Judge — May 8, 1897 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

A SUBSTITUTE. TOMMY went t6 dine with his uncle, “ Did you ask a blessing, dear?” asks pious mamma, No, mamma; not exactly. But Uncle Dick said ‘Blast the cook!" when we sat down,” THE “NEW” RUINS AT ALBANY. Assemblyman Si Low—"Can't git no armory fur Podunk this year. Gav's dead agin it.” Assemblyman Ote Field— Jes! like him—jes' his style, that is. What kin ye expec’ of a guv'nor that wants ter take the bread out o' folkses mouths by finishin’ the capitol?” “NOT ON YOUR LIFE.” THE FOOTPAD’S MISTAKE. Alkali Tke— Colonel Handy Polk, the real-estate agent, was held up last night.” Editor (ot Clarion)—" That 30? What did the robber get?” Alkali Ike—" He got away, ‘The colonel is wearin’ a new watch to-day . aoe an‘ has a middlin’ good six-shooter to sell.” A; MARTVRUTOAHIS- CONVICTIONS. _ Mus. Cowms (rushing into the room)—" Ob, Tkey ! vat is dee matter FORCE OF IMAGINATION. a eee ce: eaten yeee OM Re sas put testing er: gold la he teet Short-sighted guest (to hotel-clerk)—" 1 was chilled to the bone. What mit acid undt he burnt his mou” a blessing these registers are!” HIS PREDICAMENT. Clerk— Excuse me, sir; but that’s a perforated mat you're standing on.” First literary man— Hang it all! There I've sent that shirt to : the laundry and have forgotten AN INVITATION, 1 APVIVG to remove those silver cuff-but- STAND beneath your wine ) |\S' ms =: f| tons my aunt sent me. last dow, sweet— ‘i i The building ’s tall, love. You could not see me here, I weet, Nor hear my call, love. I couldn't throw a pebble, for It is too high up, Thaven't got a little bird All trained to fly up. T'll send:a note, then, by the boy, instead of i In proper medizeval style, ** C love, let's go a-Maying.”” If I should crown you with a wreath And my devotion Some bright reporter ‘d write us uy And like the notion. We may not roam through mead= ows green And pied with daisies ; Nor would ,1 dare (upon the street) To chaunt your praises, So, let us just go down to Del's, no pranks a-playing, And roses in the finger-bowls shall crown our Maying. GREEN, *"MaNDY—"' That sign may be all right, but IT would hate to wash the feller’s stockin's thet wears them boots.” A PNEUMATIC REVENGE, Christmas.”* Second literary man— “Why don’t you run over and get them?” First literary man—" Vow can I go without my shirt?” A LEGACY OF THE GRIP. 66 VELL, how are you feeling W this morning, Mike?” “Oi'm waik, sor; divilish ik. It’s ivery bit av backboni 's gone frum me ligs intoire! A MAGNIFICENT SIGHT, Mrs. Pawnstien—" Vat are you going to geef Ieedle Mosey on his pirthday Mr. Pawnstien—"1 vill led him look ad der tiamonds in der show-gase mit an obera-glass.” Mr, Bancrns (az the bard starts up) “Boom ! Ph-th-wit !” comicbooks.com |