Judge — July 4, 1896 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

ENTITLED TO IT. s+}How did young Downey come by the title of major?” “Why, easily enough. Don’t you remember that his father was a colonel?” A PRETTY GOOD INDICATION. Miss Fosdick— John Dillingham must be avery unlovable man.” A COQUETTE; OR, GROUNDS FOR ACTION. Exciten patiter—'' I shall want you as a witness in di- vorce proceedings against my wife there. She's letting that Miss Keedick--" What dude teach her to swim, makes you say that? RaTHR—" [don't see anything wrong in that.” Miss Fosdick —“No EXCITED RATHER—" Don't, eh? D—nit! she knows how : . ieee one ever calls him Jack.’ SHE WAS DETER- MINED, SOT HE man 1 marry.” said Miss Teeters, and she looked very straight at Mr. Whif- fett as she spoke, “shall never growl at me because I can’t make as good biscuits as his mother.” replied Mr. Whiffett. repeated Miss Tee- tel “He'll have to be able to hire a cook.” THE GENUINE NOT APPRECIATED. Summer sojourner (at a neighboring farm: house) —"You don’t need to send over any more milk. I've engaged the milkman to bring it.” Farmer—"You have, hey? ery morning it was VERDANT CONCLUSION. a thick yellow Uncie Wavpack (at Central park, solil )—" What consarned igneramoses these city chaps air ter try an’ sarcumvent natu’! Thet grass ‘Il grow from now till cold weather, no matter haow they try ter keep it off.” A NEW PLAGUE. AS THE dear old lady opened her eyes upon the sunshine of her eightieth birthday a litte of her old-time mischief came over her, and she called to her Irish maid in the next room, “ Nora, come in here if you want to see an octogenarian.” Nora (running in with great excitement) —" Where, mum— where is it? Shure, Oil soon catch it if Oi can foind it.” JUDGMENTS FROM MR. MCGARVEY. IOLINCE is a great thing whin it’s used smooth an’ aisy-loike. It's th’ wake little counthries thot do git th’ blissin’s av pace in small sictions, Th’ more ould Ingland gits av th’ Monroe doctherin’, bejak- ers! th’ wurse she fales. Th’ pictur av me frind Bar ney O'Rourke, printed in th’ pa- pers, was not him at all at all. Oi’ b'lave in drames, Twict PHRENoLocist: friend, 1 find you have a most Ole (bad ‘em, lately -whin: OL remalintle poo) shlept. If they wasn’t drames Mk MULCAHAY—"' Profissor, wud yez moind puttin’ — phwat th’ divil was they? thot down an a shlip ay paper so’s Oi won't fergit it?” H DAVID M. TALMADGR, JUMPING 11s BALE (BAIL). comicbooks.com |