Judge — November 9, 1895 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A MEMORIAL QUILT. Crovextor—** Yer see that quilt, young man? of ragged pieces of pants.” Marthy Ann made it out Sage point was approaching, a dty wag of the party slyly poured out a boiling hot cup and substituted it for Charlie’s cool one. The story came to an end, the climax arrived, and Charlie raised his cup, which he imagined to be cool, to his lips and took a deep draught. The next instant he spurted the scorching liquid from his mouth and emitted a yell that would have done honor to an Indian. And then, when the tempest of merriment had subsided somewhat and he had cooled his blistered palate to some degree with spring-water, he commented in his customary drawl, “*Well, by Jove! I think if I'd ‘a’ left that there a little longer it would have boiled.” “ You see,” concluded the practical man, “that, with all his imagina- tion, the hot coffee got in its beautiful work just the same.” Nano PAYNE. OF TWO EVILS. THERE is a welcome quiet in the block across the way— We do not hear the piano-forte a-jingling night and day ; The girls now work another set of pedals up and down— We have a respite since the cycle-craze has come to town. ANNA B, PATTEN, THE RAW MATERIAL. ++ PAPA, don't they say that ‘matches are made in heaven '?” "Yes, my son.” “ But what is the reason, when the brimstone.and sulphur are in the Citarpicn — “Aw, may I ask where you got so many fine samples of other place?” twoserings ?” Cuoverror—* Oh, Tige got’ em. He captured ‘em from fellers what come ter see my darter Mary Ellen.” FACT VERSUS FANCY. RY THING depends upon fancy—imagination. All our sensations, pleas- ing or painful, are tempered or accentuated according to the strength or subtlety of our imagination.” * You think so, do you ?” questioned the practical man. “1 know it,” retorted the man of theory bluntly. “As an illustration, let a per- son stand with his back to a hot stove or register with his hands behind him; then touch his hand with a bit of ice. What is the result? The person jumps: is burnt! As truly and veritably burnt as if he had been touched with a hot iron. “Very good for your illustration,” said the practical man. “ Now for an ex- ample which proves the reverse of your theory. There were six of us roughing it for a fortnight in the Adirondacks, Five of us had seen a good deal of camp-life— some on the plains, some in the army. But it was Charlie Manhattan's initiation. His palate, no less than his feet, was tender. However, he was a prime story-teller, and that made up for everything. A camping-party without a story-teller is like a fiddle without a bow, a ship without a rudder. We were lying prone upon the grass, devouring our mid-day lunch, and Charlie was plunged, heart and soul, into one of his best yarns. As the meal proceeded the various armor-plate palated veterans poured from the steaming kettle the scorching black coffee into their tin-cups and gulped it in that torrid state, utterly innocent of milk. All save Charlie. His palate being too soft for such heroic draughts, he was obliged to pour out his coffee and allow it to cool previous to drinking. “Thus he had tilled his cup at the beginning of the meal and set it beside him, and, as I say. had got to soaring in the ether of romance, We had all come to know that just as he was reach- ing the climax of his story he would lift his cup half-way to his lips, and then the moment the climax was reached and the rest of us were exploding with laughter Charlie would calmly drain his cup. So, upon this occasion, just as the laughing- oe But it was Spynx, the detective, with his great face-in-the-hat trick. THE BAD BOYS AND THE HORNETS’ NEST. comicbooks.com