Judge — May 16, 1896 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

Suape churned, gardened, sewed, cooked, etc , ete xy like other human slaves of her class. The farmer was plowing the hill-acres one day when a messenger came from the house saying, * You better git home; Mis’ Ellis is took bad.” Farmer Ellis grunted to signify that he heard, but went on with his plowing. ‘An hour or two later the messenger returned breathless.“ You better come,” he panted. “ Mis’ Ellis is awful bad, an’ the doctor says she may die before you can git there. “ Well,” and the hardened old rustic smiled grimly as he drew off his oxen, “now you're talkin’, Looks like somethin’ might be goin’ to happen this time, eh?" FREE OF CHAKGE, A MATTER OF OPINION, Just outside of one of our eastern cities-is a lakeside hotel where the same families A FELLOW FEELING. go summer after summer because of its accessibility for business men and the attraction Jack PLUNGER (loisterously)—"* Shake, old man, Tim going the lake offers for hours of leisure. The table one season grew so poor that in self- to get married ” defense the regular boarders made up a purse to send their rustic landlord on a little Fatexp (soherly)—""And my doctor has just given me up to die. Let us drink to each other.” REQUIESCAT IN PACE. Speculation ran high during his absence, as to the result of his awakening, some THE dying man raised himself painfully upon his elbow. guests prognosticating real coffee and cream, the hopes of others soaring as high as His solicitor sat by the bed- side. journey in the world, that he might thus delicately be instructed in the benefits other hotel-men bestow upon their guests for value received. “Has my wife got her di- vorce yet?” he gasped. “She has.” “Has my daughter eloped with anybody yet ?" “With the coachman, last night. “ Where is my only son?" “In jail.” “Has the mortgage been foreclosed on my property ?” “Two days ago.” “T suppose the newspapers are defaming my character ?” “They are.” “ Have the New Yorks won a game yet?” “They ha THE BETTER WAY, Ba ., Farmer Brown —* Why don't ye try th’ new trolley-cars, neighbor ?” “Thank God! Idiecontent.” FARMER Greene —" Not much; old Dobbin ‘s safe an’ sure, an’ good enough fer me an Hannan, Ain't ye, Dobbin? — vegetables from a garden not walled withtin, and an occasion- al rib-roast of beef. The rustic and insular host returned at last, seated himself on the piazza and smiled with proud satisfaction at his expect- ant guests. “ Well,” he said, “I've ben to your Newport an’ your Bos- ton, an’ I don’t care a hang fer any of ‘em. This hotel of mine is the only place I've struck where you can git seven kinds of pie fer dinner.” yc. canper. APPLIED SCIENCE, [7 JS my neighbor, Tappington, He tappeth me for ten; My soul is wrung with agony, I'm angry and—but then, What can I say to Tappington? Hold! I will mark his ways And learn, like him and Edison, ‘To make the great X raise. WALTIH JUAN DAVIS, RUSTICANA, NGTH OF HER DYING. :R ELLIS'S wife was his one grievance.“ She's al'ays ailin’ an’ ain't no help to a man,” he complained. Not- withstanding, she washed,