Judge — April 4, 1896 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

DADDY’S JOY. DARNDEST cutest litte feller, hear him laugh an’ cry an’ beller, makes things hum frum roof tew cellar, { Daddy’ Ever'thing he does is cunnin’—shoutin’, kickin’, fightin’, runnin’; Lordy, ain't they lots o' fun in Hevin’ sich a boy! jor. Lut the neighbors livin’ near him hate. despise, mistrust an’ fear him, an’ would like tew shoot or spear him, Daddy's joy Throw out water jes’ tew splash him, set up deadfalls, try tew smash him, git profane an’ softly — dash him, That internal boy ! A PENITENT. T WAS our good old friend and national sustainer, Weary Willie, who spoke. Our dear old pal, so oft belied and becried by the caricaturist and the joke- writer. Ic was true, as he had often said, he was but the“ rimblits " (meaning remnants) of an ill-spent life: yet the germs of good, ever present, e’en in the roughest heart, only slum- bered in him. ‘They were not dead; they were in a state of “innokuus deswetud.” (See Gro, Cle; VOL. XXVIL, PART VIL. pp. 9-25) His moral furnace was going all right, but it had been banked down so heavily and = as was so full of clinkers you might not have known it. A VENTRILOQUIAL BUNCO. Weary was veracious. Willie was sincere Weary Willie was an honest man, up- UNCLE ABNER (rho has heard selection from machine, right and just. goed naturedly) No, yer doan‘t, young feller! No, yer So far superior to his critics and delineators is that true artist, that child of nature, Younc MAN (surprised)—"" Don't what?" that international genius—the tramp. But the public doesn't know that — not until it UNcLe AuNek —"* Try ter make me bleeve yew hain’t meets the critics Our friend had knocked at Mrs. Goodman's back-door and she had _ 0n€ 0’ them air ventrillercusses ! It's a wonder yew hain't ast : me ter lissen ter some chap sawin’ wood in th’ cellar, but_ yer opened the portcullis about an inch uncle hain't no greeny ef he does hail from Jaytown ; tho’ I'll “Madam,” he said gently, and with that reverential deference peculiar to the celtic allow yew air cute at it!" race when addressing their wives and others, “madam, here you see the rimblits of an ill- FAITHFUL FOREVER. spent life. Lam a thief, a liar, a homicide, a incendiary—wich means fire-bug, lady—a drunkard an’ a ward- TWO bright eyes at the window cian — I stan’ confessed.” That watch for me ; ‘True lovelight in their greeting, From guile so free ! Oh, how my heart would miss them, ‘Those orbs so meek ! What carnest, pure affection They ever speak ; ‘The day be sad, the day be long, ‘Those eyes to me awake sweet song ! . poor fellow! can I say nothing ~de nothing —to aid—to save you?” cried Mrs. Goodman between her Dusé sobs, “Madam,” the words came from his heart the impress of God-given truth, “madam. it lies wid yerself whetter Iam ter be resusitated, rehabilitated, an placed upon de upward pat’; madam '— he hesitated, and the evil within him struggled a moment for the mastery. The contest was short. His better nature triumphed, and with an ec id holy light shining from his transfigured countenance he cried, * Mad- am, ef yer'll guv me ten cents Vl reform.” css, west nd bore The ruddy fireside glowing Makes pictures quaint ; ‘Those lips have never spoken One small complaint ; A graceful form that nestles Close to my side, As if from me all shadows It fain would hide, My hand caressed with sympathy, Returns the touch so lovingly. I know her fond affection 's Unseliish still, And neither time nor fortune Its warmth can chill ; T trust her for her faithful, Her loving heart, ‘And only death can sever Our lives apart ! A true wife, you will say? Ah, no; Only my little spaniel, ** Flo"! MONKOK HM. KOSRNYE A SOLOMONETTE., oe u you find a fath- ef who worships his ancestors," suid Uncle Tree- top sadly, “you don’t have to look far for a son who “CHECK MY TRUNK. TO APRIL. FICKLE maid, the cap and bells Fit you better than the clown ; How I long to “call you down" — Fleeting smile and chilling frown— In your passage through the dels | All things earthly seem vour toolk— First, you make the crocus smile, ‘Then the ** slow cuss" you beguile Out of doors devoid of fears Till you wet him with your tears, Take the starch out of his style, Chiefest of the April fools! Ah, T know you; and my rule Is to arm against your wile, inst your disposition vile, inst a hundred human ills 1 AN APRIL-FOOL REPETITION, UNctr WAvHaACK (vith a battering-ram rush)—" Them Lurking in your sudden chills— 2. AN APRIL- FOOL REPE’ cubs lamed me fer a fortni't last April wi' their pesty brick- For I've been an April fool ! But, unfortunately for Uncle Wayback. the boys had in-th'-hat eaper, but these boots Il fix their brick !" (7Areack J) kanvatt x. saunpans, already taken out the brick. comicbooks.com