Judge — May 9, 1896 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

318 Mrs. Jonxsoy —"Am yo'r son, who entahed de chu'ch as’ yeah, gittin’ up in hees callin’?” Mrs. Jack R. HAZE! A SAD, TRUE STORY. . with his wife and child, lived at the top of a large apartment- x—"* W'y, yais; he’s va'y neah de top now—he's paintin’ steeples fo" | alivin’ now, Sais dere 's moah money paintin’ steeples dan poundin’ pulpits.”” house in Brooklyn. One night Mr. Hazel, who wore a long flannel night- gown, was awakened about twelve o'clock by the smell of smoke and coal-gas. It was a cold, bleak night and he was loath to leave his warm bed to investigate, but visions of a delinquent jani- tor and of firemen rescuing them from a burning building, and other visions wherein he wasn't rescued, disturbed him, and he at last stepped into the public hall. His wife followed him, and while they were discussing the matter the door of the apartment blew shut, and the night-latch was down. They lost all interest in the smoke and in the janitor, and frantically they tried to get back to their own again. Mr. Hazel pushed with his feet and pounded with his fists, and called and shouted for his little girl to open the door. But the girl was a healthy child and a sound sleeper and she slept on. Mr, Hazel was in des and sat him down on the landing, crossed his legs under him, and declared he would have to stay there all night, incidentally abus- ing his wife in a mild way for fol- lowing him out there. His wife suggested that they might get in through the elevator-door, al- Husnaxp madly in love with you though in her secret heart she thought it was fastened. ever, climbed the stairs to the roof and stepped his feet on the cold and slimy roof, for it was raining. 1. GOOD MEASURE. Isaacste ‘The wind blew his long night- HE GOT IT IIMSELF, Do you believe in retributive justice, John ?* I married you to get even with Jack Robinson, who was “DOWN WITH THE DUMPS.” blew shut, and he was in utter darkness except for the blue light his remarks lent him. He thought ‘he might get help down in the basement, so he let himself down, sighing as he passed the other doors, where people were safe | and warm in their beds. When he reached the basement he found the opening was not deep enough to let him off the top of the elevator. Alas! there was nothing to do but pull himself up all those weary flights to the top again. His hands and feet were blistered with the rope and the pounding, and his nervous sys- tem was completely demoralized. He began to think he would never get nearer heaven than his flat or that mean elevator. After that long journey he found his wife again, still stand- ing and shivering outside their own door. Then he thought he might pry open the door with a hatchet. But he hadn't a hatch- et; so he mustered up courage, awakened his nearest neighbor on the floor below, stated his position, secured the hatchet — kindly refrained from braining his wife for following him—and, Mr, Hazel, how- heavenly joy! pried the locked door open and stepped with his dress around him in a wild fan- tastic way and the rain_ pelted his bald head. He hurried across the roof and drew the elevator to. the top of the building (it was at the basement, of course). He stepped on top of it and pulled himself down to his own lodging. “AR.” he said, “1 am allright now! I'll soon fix this matter.” But the fates were against him. So was the door, for it was fastened on the inside. He sat down and pushed and jammed with his feet, and swore softly but frequently, but the door re- wife into luxury and comfort once more. Then he had a hot bath and a hotter toddy, and felt at ease with all this wicked world. IsaacsteIN —"*Goot veight—very goot veight. Drife droo anudder puddle, Michael, pefore you ged to der house— Then the door of the shaft you may lose some ohf id. —"' Drife droo dot mud-puddle, Michael, ined obstinately shut. pefore veighing dot coal.”” comicbooks.com