Judge — August 28, 1897 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

iage NSIBLE ALTERNATIVE. +P RAPS yolll wondah wha I's got up dat sign an’ ain't plantin’ dem lots toe watahmillyuns dis season, * re- marked Deacon Featherly as he slowly turned and rolled his eyes at a few near-by darkies. “P'raps yo" may hab an alley- gashun up yo'r sleebe dat I didn’ hab suffishunt cllatteral toe pu'chis de fertilizer necessary, but yo'd be wrong. Doan’ t'ink fo’ one moment dat dere’s enny puss’nal ostrichcism agin de African nashunal fruit emblem, kase dere ain't. De trubble wid de watahmillyun show I managed las’ summah wuz dat dere wuz toe menny actahs in mah ploc—an ailiment dat cud * ‘a’ bin remedied, howebber, by a good dawg an’ a few doses ob gun. Enlightenment doan’ seem toe be desir'ble by de cullud man ob toe-day— ‘specially watahmillyun season. Above all ud- ders, he had radder be in de dark. De raal reason ob dat sign "—and here the deacon glow- cred —" was de lamentible fac’ dat a numbah ob cullud pussons secured de adjoinin’ lots fo a buryin’-groun’. De grabity ob dat situashun erected dat sign. A man has toe hab sum sleep —he kain’t watch night an’ day; so dose lots is fo’ sale. Do I look fool enuff toe be chief mourn- er toe ebery niggah funeral-persesshun dat passes intoe dat adjoinin’ semmetery? Dose lots is fo’ sale. Does I maik mahse’f plain?” A SEI qo \pens LOT A MODERN INSTANCE. [TWAS a sultry night—sultry enough to crush every living thing but mosquitoes into amor- phous desuetude. Jones couldn't sleep; neither could Jones's wife. It was too hot to talk, and Jones blessed providence for that, for he was deaf in his left ear and always lay on his right, so he did not take kindly to vocal nocturnes. But Jones at last got restless in his favorite posi- tion and turned over to find a cooler spot. As he did so he heard a very distinct noise in one of the outer rooms. He promptly turned his good ear to the pillow again and the noise ceased. Mrs. Jones, however, had two acute ears, and they were very much awake. She too heard the noise, and guessed what it meant. She nudged Jones. He had become very drowsy. She gave him a vigorous shake and whispered, “* John !—burglars !" Ugh" mumbled John sleepily. “Oh, you got sleepy very suddenly, didn’t you a fine sarcastic inflection.“ Oh, the silverware!” “It’s only rats in the pantry. 1 saw a big fellow there yester- day,” returned Jones, waking up in good order. "Do rats sing‘ My girl's a high-born lady'?” urged Mrs. Jones, for the strains of that melody floated in front the adjoining room. This was pushing Jones pretty hard.” There was a gun under his pillow, but he was afraid to take it out lest the burglar come in and find him with it. Before he could reach a decision a dark form strode through the bedroom door, humming, I love my black | Venus; no one shall come between us.” He walked to the chair at the bedside, sat down leisurely, and began to fumble in the pockets of Jones's trousers. His back was turned to them. said she with THE WAYS OF FASH CHANGED HER NAME IN THE EVENING. Reporter—"' Here is an account of the wedding of Gray and that New York heiress. City EDITOR—"An evening wedding, wasn't it?” Reporter—"' Y City epitor—"*All right. I'll head it ‘Turned Gray in the night.’ * Shoot him, John!” said Mrs. Jones in a stage- whisper which might have been heard in the dining- room. The burglar kept on humming, and Jones be- gan to take heart; began to see visions of news- Paper notoriety, etc. Slowly and cautiously he got out the pistol. pointed at the broad back, shut his eyes and pulled. The burglar never budged. Jones pulled the trigger again. Their guest chuckled quietly. “A. ghost!" whispered Mrs. Jones, considerably relieved, for | ghosts don’t steal silverware. |" “Naw, I ain't no ghost,” said the burglar, turning abruptly. “I'm on'y plain Jack de cracker. Bein’ a 1‘ ION. Remember that this tie is the proper style for you— casheer used ter be de swell ting; but since de bullet-proof clot’ came in house-breakin’ ’s de on'y perfession fer a gent.” Then he dumped the spoils of Jones's trousers in his pocket and de- parted. RDWAND CLAYTON SAVAGE, IN TIME TO COME. s6] THINK it’s just too horrid, the way Mr. Jimson . dresses,” remarked Mr. Teeters to Mr. Richards. “What has he done now?” “He has had his last year’s straw hat made over by putting a new ribbon How old is the oldest inhabitant of this village?” beh a on it. —and don’t forget that this one for your three- There ain't none, Ile died last week. heh ie year-old son is the thing. comicbooks.com