Judge — June 13, 1896 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

899 IT Was. OUR willage wag was an irresponsi- ble‘lad of seventeen. One day an old ramshackle hotel took fire. A citizen, hurrying to the place and meet- ing Robby, asked, “Is it much of a fire?” “Much of a fire? Law! you ought to see the bugs rushing out on to the roof to tear up the shingles and fan themselves.” OH! OH! OH! OH! H, FOR a frost-covered ambush ! Oh, for a corner on ice! Oh, for a shivering snowdrift, Or any untorrid device ! Oh, for a boreal guster ! Oh, for a cool, shady spot ! Oh, for most anything frigid— The weather is so blamed hot ! AMT. IT LOOKED LIKE IT, oe W HY did Solomon marry a thou- sand wives ?” asked the Sun- day-school teacher. DIDN'T KNOW THE ARTICLE, “Perhaps he wanted to be the Eprron—"' You say you were formerly the society reporter of the Mooseville Meadow Afoderator? You don't ¢ thee of a ss ” replied t look like a society reporter.” father of his country,” replied one o} APPLicant—"* I reckon you never mixed in with Mooseville Meadow society, b’gosh !"” the older pupils. ¥/) THE BLUEBIRD. {GH vp in the boughs of the linden-tree, In a scarlet vest and a jacket gay, ‘The bluebird flitting among the leaves Pipes me forth at the break of day. He came from the south in the early year And dipped his wings in the deep blue sky, But the tender tale of his pilgrimage Nobody knows but the rose and I. Tt was long ago when the war broke out With a terrible tempest of shot and shell, Where the grass was beaded with drops of blood, In the trampled hollow, a bugler fell. ‘Then out of the smoke and the crimson haze A bird ia the gold of the morning flew, And sounded the notes of the reveille From his tiny throat, and his coat was blue. To a wee brown house on a wooded hill In the heart of the distant north he sped, But the door was fast and the hearth was cold, And the soldier's dear little sweetheart dead. But still he comes in the train of spring With the violet and the velvet bee, THE ACME OF BLISS. The bugler-bird in his soldier-coat, Tiren BatRo—"* Wot would yer radder be dan all else in de world, Barney 2° And sounds the note of the reveille ! Barney Keecan—*‘A horspittle conwalescent, pard. All yer hez ter do is jest lav dere in bed an’ be MINWA TRYING, waited on by de hull fleet dat don't do a t ing but soak nurrishin‘ feed an’ brandy inter ycr.”” a IN NEW JERSEY. Mosquito—"'T can’t keep up with this scorcher— — but I can stop him !"