Judge — September 19, 1896 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

Siage THE SCORCHER’S FATE. E WAS born in humble station with a humbler education, and his former occupation was not generally known, But he rose upon our vision with a nation’s recognition and adorned his high position with the name “The Bicy- clone.” His biographer has stated that his wheel had immolated, ere his scorching rage was sated, ghastly victims near a score; Blind men tumbled into gutters, cripples wended home on shutters, the death angel wildly flutters where his wheel has rolled in gore, Ab, the maniacs who are raving in asy- lams, simply craving silence, and all horrors braving to escape that fiend- ish bell, Jangling, jangling just before you, just behind you, crashing o'er you, at your elbow, till once more you wish the ringer was in— Havana ! By the law of gravitation ballast makes safe navigation, so the scorcher found salvation in his long and empty head; While bis feet grew stronger, bigger, and his intellectual vigor sought the base- ment of his figure while his upper works were dead. So he rose in estimation of the world and of the nation, and they gave him an ovation for his awful three-mile ride, Where he met a lady biker by the name of Susan Stryker, and our scorcher seemed to like her when she coasted by his side, They were married while the squashes with the county fair b'gosb is and the hoss-trot sprawls and sploshes with the biker round the track, And, to win the ad captandum vulgus, rode home on a tandem while the wings of Cupid fanned ‘em on each humped bicycle back. ‘There were three of them this autumn where the county fair had brought ‘em, and our artist here has caught ‘em as they entered for the prize. See this second generation and the awful consummation—give him due consideration with his eager goggle eyes. Oh, beware of pigeon-toeing, or of spinal-column bowing, think of elbows outward growing like the wings upon a bat. And a chin—oh, ain't it horrid ?—on a level with your forehead and your stomach dry and torrid wondering where your liver ’s at. A:T. WORDEN, AS UNCLE PETE SEES IT. SOME polerticians act ‘set dey gwine use dey mouf foh a ballot-box. aur CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE, Coronet KENTUCK (not knowing there had been a flood in the vicinity)—'* Who'd think there wuz derned fools thet squander money on watuh !” A BOY’S MISCONSTRUCTION. ‘6]'VE been watchin’ this chimney for more 'n an hour,” said Davie disgustedly, “‘t’ see it carry th’ smoke off, like pop said it would, an’ it hasn't moved !" MUST BE DEVOTED. Clara —" Do you think he's fond of her?” Ethel —" \t looks like it. He cleaned her bicycle yesterday.” BIASED. Wheeler—* My doctor advises me to cycle; but I don’t think 1 will do so.” Bell—* You don't?” Wheeler—" No. \ think he’s biased—he's a surgeon.” De poah man may vote on princerple, but de uddah fellah gwine ‘klect de intrus, An hones’ man ‘ll pop up de price o' hay ‘thout swarin’ at de weathuh. W’en de debbil 's on a bike de preachuh’s got t’ hussel. Allus try t' look wise. Mebbe some pusson in de crowd doan’ know ye. De contrary man is allus hangin’ ‘roun’ de mental cross-roads. ‘ BOUND TO LEARN * Well, well, this is too bad. What did it, cyclone?” Garpenzr—''S.s-sh ! there he comes now.” 1M. MACKLEY, § SPORTING TERM Getting in the pink of condition. comicbooks.com| |