Judge — May 15, 1897 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

330 Sage THE RUSSIAN GROWLER. oe HAT are you growl- ing for?” said the British lion to the Russian bear as they strolled side by side on a board- walk that was sprung out of shape. “ Because,” the bear chuckled, “ we are both on the warp-path.” The British lion howled as though his tail had been twisted again. WHAT HE WANTED. Applicant —"1 é called in answer j ia Cas your’ adverts 7 7 * ment for a com- le Ade ee arENPORCEO RETRENEIS fakin ch jour soy No more equestrian statues for our distinguished men, Gaces \ce his marriage Scorcher, the champion age to the north pole. I can steer a ship, drive a dog-team, walk on snow-shoes, compute cyclist, has had to take a back seat.” pees « How's that?” longitude and latitude “—— Ga He rides a tandem now.” Arctic explorer—" Can you work a stereopticon ?” " > BLUFFING. f A BICYCLE TRAGEDY. LORD FFOLIOT’S PHEASANTS. seYOU'RE nothing but a little girl,” he said +S] OOK at ma letter that's goin’ wi’ the hamper, To pert fourteen, who shook her saucy head And stamped her foot indignantly.‘ You dare To speak to me like that? Proud sir, beware !" Sandy,” said Lord Ffoliot’s game-keeper. “ Hov I spelt peesants right?” “Nae, mon,” said Sandy; “there's nae p in fees- ants. Begin them wi’ an £.” “But how many f's? His lordship begins his ain name wi twa.” “ Weel,” said Sandy thoughtfully, "it depeends on the number of feesants.” So the game-keeper wrote, “In the hamper your lordship will find four fiffeesants from the presarves.” The years rolled on. At last he told his love To sweet eighteen, but vainly sought to move Her stubborn heart ; for, by coy mischief led, “You're too tall for a little girl,” she said. waLen CHAUNCRY. THE POWER OF EXPRESSION. Jimmy—" Say, father, | want to know "— Father—* Phwat?* Jimmy—*1 want money to get my wheel fixed.” Mother—" Don't vex yure father, Jimmy. Don't yez see he hov his bicycle face an him this marnin’ ?” FOOLS OF THE SEASON. HE girl who wears thin clothes while skies still lower, ‘The overcoatless men who spring days brave, Alike forget the unexpected shower— ‘The open street-car leads but to the grave. BAD WALKER, GOOD WHEELER. PERHAPS you've noticed it of late. Few women walk as they would like ; But any with ungainly gait Might change that carriage for a bike. NOT SO VERY SIMPLE, Miss New Boston— Mr. Simple, don't you find it difficult to decide whether the cell membranes of protoplasmic particles combine by cohesion or by chemical affinity ?” Mr. Simple—"No, ma'am. If anybody asks me troublesome questions I just say, ‘Well, in general 1 agree with Huxley and those fellows, don’t you?’ and 1, JEALOUS EAVESDROPPING RIVAL IRISH AS SHE IS TAUGHT. Judge Mott (to Officer O'Gilligan)— If you don’t stop those people from shuffling and scuffling I'll clear ° RIVAL the court.” that shuts ‘em up, ‘cause they never remember what {fensishi) “Ob. you're again Oficer O'Gilligan (roars) —" Howld yure tungues, Huxley does say.” fortune I'm ridin’-instructor dere.” there, b'ys, wid yure fate!” 2. VictIM—"* Y-y-you'll hold on to th’ wheel, won't you?” 3. Jeatous RIVAL (swish —** You bet I" comicbooks.com