Judge — August 28, 1897 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

438 uage THE AMENDE HONORABLE. OOK here, ma’am!” said the leader of the vigilantes, “TL ain't here to deny that I'm dretful cut up about this here business. I'd ruther lost a week's pay-dirt than had folks know that a posse with me a-leadin’ of ‘em sh’d a-lynched the wrong man, An’ I sorter hated to lynch your man anyhow, bein’ as I ruther cottoned to the ornery cuss, But what's done is done, an’ there ain’t no use cryin’ over spilt milk. What these boys is here fur is to make it all right with you.” The weeping widow looked up with a faint show of interest. " Yes, that’s what we cackilate to do. It sha‘n't never be said of this here gang that it didn’t do the squar’ thing. We'll do jestice by ye, or my name ain't Deadwood Dick. Jest you cast your eyes over this yere B gang an’ pick out any man you want—an’ ef he don’t marry ye it'll be because they ain't enough hemp-rope in these yere diggin’s to make him, nor men enough to give him a bang-up lynchin’, with you a-pullin’ of the ALUERT B. NoYT. MIRACULOUS METHODS OF INFORMATION, Dear MaN—""I heard this morning that the authorities intended to pro- hibit begging on the streets.”” BLIND MAN—"* Yes; i saw something to that effect’ in the newspaper to- day.” THE WAY TO PILOT KNOB. THE average mountaineer is iiothing if not indetinite when he gives one information regarding the distance from one point to another. Friend, how far is it to Pilot Knob,” inquired Lawson Burnett of Ohiv, meeting Jake Ryestraw of Kentucky, “ Wa-al, stranger, if ye’ foller THE DEATH OF SPRING GIZZARD JIM. A ROMANCE OF THE WEST. The sun had almost touched the horizon and a holy calm pervaded the spot. Against the massive trunk of a primeval pine rested the sinewy body of Gizzard Jim; by his side, grasping his trusty rifle, knelt Bunco Warts, the trapper, scalper and distiller. Bunco,” said the dying hero of a hundred combats, ‘* them shots.I got las’ Sunday when I wuz firin’ de church has cooked me goose, an’ dis ole car- ine ain't no furder use. But | will die like a yellow-covered warrior, an’ don't yer fergit it. Wot is death anyhow? Nothin’ to de man who can pick his teeth wid a bowie widout cuttin’ his gums, or kin strike an eagle on de wing. I ain't made no will, Bunco, but de trophies w'ot I leave behind I want yer ter give to de boys as follers : “+ De strings of ears w'ot’s a hangin’ by de fire-place in de cabin, an’ wich I cut off in fair fight wid gov'ment officers, I leave ter Baldy Hamface, an’ 1 want him ter wear ‘em under his chest-protector, near his heart, in remembrance of de many drunks we's had togedder ; de pair o' buckskin shoes containin’ de fingers of de peddler, I give ter Hash-lipped Charley. ef he lives ter git out o° jail. Den dere’s a deerskin bag full o” front teet’, which [has butted from der jaws of cussed redskins ; | want yer ter string ‘em and send ‘em to Daisy Hare- lip, an’ tell her ter wear ‘em fer ole times’ sake. ** Raise my head, Bunco—so—an' put a tuft o' cool grass in me ears, fer me head's all afire—so— t’anks, Bunco, t'anks ; you'se a Jim dandy. Dere’s a couple o' eyes in a sardine-box—you'll find dem in der cupboard. Dem I give ter you; I won dem fairly in a fight wid a half-breed two mont’s ago. I'd ha’ got his nose too ef his tribe hadn't come to his reskoo. “An’ now, Bunco, turn me wid mer face to der settin’ sun an’ wiistle some church-music to der tune of ‘On der Bow'ry.’ Good-bye, Bunco. good-bye—1 am a-goin’ to dat born where travelers return, w'ich I learnt in Sunday-school ” ‘And so he died. ACCURATE INFORMATION. +s LJOW old are you, dear?” asked old Mr. Trotter of little Ethel Gazzam, “Lam ten and five-twelfths years, sir,” replied Ethel, who has just got into frac- tions, WHEN commencemen goin’ te He'll make a s th’ state ie kin run a German Do not be lions. Dr. Si ears. The scienti: 1:9 mosquitoes A PAYING WHEEL, the road goin’ to the right it’s a leetle nigher than the tother way ; but if ye go to the left it’s a leetle furder than the nigh way "Yes, but how far is it?" 1€ go at a purty good gait it won't take very long to git thar. It's a good piece, | reckon, anyhow, stranger, Git a-a-p-e, thar, Samp- son! Haw, thar, Sambo !" ‘Then he cracked his whip and drove on, leaving the Ohio man measuring the distance with his eye. WALTION CHAMP. PLEASURE'S BY-WayY. CHAPPIES who lead rapid lives Cactus Tom — ‘Bill, did yer hear Tenderfoot Jim —** What has become of your wheel ?* Jake —"" Oh, plasters and arnica.” Find with quite a shock druggist attached it for money «due for ‘That the road is very short From champagne to hock. lamb. Jim is dead ?* Pawnerk Bit Cactus Toxt ‘No. What was the trouble ?” * There wa'n't any—he died like a comicbooks.com