Judge — July 3, 1897 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

He HAD A “BLOW-OUL." What on earth have you been doing? You look like I lunched on a pack of fire - crackers.”” THEY WERE EXPERIENCED. ‘ sTHAT poor fellow would make a good subject for a writer of detective novels,” remarked the baking-powder drummer as a strangely distorted cripple limped slowly by. “It seems to me that the ordinary sleuth would go mad trying to solve the mystery of his tracks in a dusty road.” “TL guess so,” replied the Ruralville merchant, “He is an unfortunate chap who lives over in the eastern part of the county somewhere and comes here begging now and then, I believe he received his injuries in a railroad wreck, which broke several of his bones and twisted his left leg till that foot points almost directly backward when he walks, The first time he came here was in the night, immediately after a snow- storm, and next morning, when his tracks were discovered in the snow, one foot pointing east and the other west, everybody who saw them was completely puzzled as to what manner of man had made them and which way he had been going. But at last a couple of citizens came up and promptly solved the mystery without even seeing the author of the tracks. They seemed to know all about it by intuition, you may say.” “Indeed? Who were they?” “One of them was a high-tariff Demo- crat and the other a free-silver Republican. They were used to walking in peculiar ways, themselves.” TOM PF. MORGAN, FOILED. Freddie —" Oh, pa! the goat swallowed my big fire-crackel Cobwigger crying about.” Freddie —“Yes, it was, pa. The blam- ed thing never went off.” «Well, that’s nothing to be CS ORTHODOX. Isaacs (the pawonbroker) — ** Goot Mister Kobber, if you must kill me don'd shtick me mit dot knife like a pig, bud put t'ree balls in me mit your rewolver und led me die like a Heprew pawnbroker should die.” SCIENCE IN FICTION. SINCE it has been discovered that every disease or malady has its own individual odor, we should not be surprised to meet with something like this in the forthcoming scientific novel : : “As Arabella was admitted by the footman her nostrils were greeted by a peculiar and penetrating odor of violets, which, even as she paused, deepened and changed to that of pineapple. Seized with apprehension, she sprang up the stairs and threw open the door of her friend's boudoir. Her fears were realized. Upon a couch in the darkened chamber lay the girl struggling in an unusually severe attack of hysteria.” Or this: “ The doctor took the woman's hand in his and sn fied audibly. Then he turned to the husband with a meaning look and they retired. “ «What is it?’ asked the man fearfully. "*Calm yourself, my dear sir,’ replied the d ‘The odor is unmistakable. The poor lady is insane. FATE, TIE Fourth you might just as well have your fling, For life is a wonderful plot. It's the fellow who never was doing a thing Who always is sure to be shot. O A TERRIBLE CALAMITY. Little Aaron (rushing. in) —"Oh, Miss Philenda, Miss Philenda! Charles Henry Pritchett’s team ran away just now with the mowing-machine and threw him in front of the knives and cut off his head.” Miss Philenda Fortysmith (terribly agi- tated)—" Dear me, suzz! And men are so scarce around here too!” AT THE CLOSE OF THE DEUTSCHE PICNIC. SrINcLeMEYER (last on the grounds)—"' Dot beebles all avay gone fon der hicnick und forgit all der pretzels mit to dake alreatty, — — Holy Moses, Spinglemeyer! hef I got der telerum chim-chams, ain'd il?” comicbooks.com