Judge — November 30, 1895 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

345 Bob an’ me went for “ Bub an’ Sis,” an’ folks said ’t we carried it out first-rate. No wonder. It was Bob's idee, an’ he put me through more rehearsals than the Vanderbilt weddin’. George is good comp’ny at a party, fer although he can’t sing he can dance; an’ when Mrs. Goslin wanted t’ interduce him to a lot o’ wall- flowers he says, “Tm afraid I'll have t' go slow on roun’ dances this evenin’, Mis’ Goslin, fer I see Mary Ellen ’s beginnin’ t’ git her back up already, an’ you know how she is. She's liable, once she gits started, t' keep it up all night.” So I enjoyed myself dancin’. But I didn’t enjoy the supper very much, The sandwiches got mixed an’ every time I tried t’ get ham I got corn-beef—an’ I can't bear corn-beef; I think it’s fairly “low.” After we unmasked we had kissin’ games, an’ George got mad at me fer not choosin’ him fer “ post-office"; but I told him I jest couldn't kiss him with them ridicilous clo’es on. Jest after we got over the bridge, comin’ home, a perleeceman stopped us an’ made us show him what we had in our bundles, I asked him if he didn’t think a man oughter git six months fer wearin’ such togs as them an’ he said he did. It was broad daylight when we got home, an’ we went in with the milkman, MADELINE OKVTS. HERE was a map in our town And he was wondrous wise ;, A TRADE TRINITY. But, falling on the ** Brier-Bush,”* It has been whispered by the business enemies of Hockstein that that gorgeous He cried out both his eyes. ald-gold bloomer costume and full puff-sleeves that his daughter sported on her wheel daily was, after all, only a bright bit of business enterprise. MISS MARY ELLEN EASTSIDE AND THE MASQUERADE. WENT to a masquerade-party over in Brooklyn last week, an’ some- times I most wish I hadn't, fer then I shouldn't never have seen George in a king’s costoom consistin’ of red velvet knee-pants with lace ruffles on ‘em an’ a velvet mantle trimmed with kitten’s fur, an’ a paste- board crown on his head. It was Emma Goslin’s birth-day party—her nineteenth, so she says; but I wouldn't like t' be hung by the heels since she was nineteen years old. Two or three days before the party Mamie Darling came over t’ our house an’ says t' me, “ Mary Ellen,” she says, “I wish you'd git me a pair of Bob's old white socks, so ‘t I can cut the toes off. I'm goin’ dressed as a baby.” I says, “I'll git ye the socks all right, but you won't need t’ cut ‘em off none. You needn't give me no such gag as that; I know the size of yer feet.” “So do I know yours,” she says; ‘an’ yer toes turn up like sleigh-runners.”” “Why don’t you go for a museum fat woman?” I says. “It'd be cheaper for you.” She'd got the socks by this time, so she says, " Be sure you powder that red hair o° yours; then nobody ‘ll know it—unless they could feel it was coarse as fiddle-strings.” Well, the party was a suc- “O WAD SOME POWER THE GIFTIE GIE US," ETC. cess, an’ some of us got our MacPuerson—" Turn your head awa, Jenny, an’ dinna ye look. ‘Tis names in the Brooklyn Buzzard, shamefu’, shamefu’, thot ony female should expose her peerson in sic a teerrible 4 BUNCO IN THE ORIENT. comicbooks.com