Judge — February 29, 1896 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

He undertook to teach her to skate backward — A LOST BOTTLE. LOST—A satchel containing the manuscript of a book on temperance, a promissory note for one hundred dollars, and a small flask. If the finder will return the flask, with its contents, he may keep the other articles for his trouble. WOULDN'T DO. Clara —" Ed, if we don't hurry we will miss that train. Can't you be a little fast?” Ed—"\mpossible, my dear. We are Methodists.” MUSICAL NOTE, GHORTLY after the singer had reached the high C she ST thy HE UNDERTOOK TOO MUCH. —with this result. THE KING’S REPAST. HE king pushed back his plate in sudden disgust and set his goblet on the board with a splash of ruddy cordial. “Is aught wrong with the food, sire?” questioned the one who served. “I have no appetite,” the king replied.“ Yesterday I ate without gusto, and to-day I eat not at all. Where is the knave whose care it is to see that my appetite fails not or my palate lose its delight? Go, fetch him.” The moments sped; an hour passed. The king in sullen dis- Wa Ul PREPARING HIS WEAPON. “Going to shave, Sam?* “No, sah; dance.” temper awaited the man of vials and herbs and refused to leave his chair, But little used was he \ sailed majestically out of sight. 16 ses bis commands grow Gold, and the servants moved uneasily. At length the delinquent came. “ Pardon the delay, sire,” gasped the man breathlessly, “A woman with a flock of weeping children has just died of starvation in an alley ” back of the palace. What duty has your humble servant the happiness to per- form for your maj- esty ?” KATHRINE GROS)RAN. SHOCKING. Cholly—" What's youah hand band- aged for, old chap?” Archie —" Weu- matism, old man. Me bwute of a man bwought me a cold saucah with me cof- fee this mawning.”” Cholly —" The wascal !" ti F | i A FORTUNATE ULTIMATUM. THE substantial Weary Wituir. (terrified, glancing at fallen tree)—* Talk erbout yer dregs dish is the or- o' distress! Dis is de acmer. "Ef 1 don't flag dis oncummin’ train I'll git hung fer fat train-wreckin’. Ef I does flag it I'll be jailed fer bein’ in complicity wid de wind, "ament of the | (Suddenly waving.) Hooray fer me chances an’ de ol’ bandanna !" feast. DOKSN’T CUT ANY ICR. comicbooks.com