Judge — November 13, 1897 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

». by Sarony. JUDGE'S FAVORITES. MAUDE ADAMS AS * LADY BABBIE," IN ‘THE LITTLE MINISTER.” Ob, your music is sweet, Lady Babbie, the voice of Maude Adams rings through. Be the witchery Maudie’s, or Babbie’s, Still its hauntings are tender and true. Tell us, Maude—do you play Lady Babbie, Or does Lady Babbie play you? WHEN RELIEF CAME TO THE MURPHYS. Related by Mr. MeGarvey. Te. WAY ¢' till a sacret ‘s t' kape it. “Twor hard toimes, an’ Murphy wor out av work. He'd come home in th’ avenin’ wid his timper hangin’ in shrids an’ his lower jaw ristin’ in th’ pit av his nick, an’ he'd put his two hands on the floor in th’ corner an’ sit down be- twane em on th’ little soap-box Mamie 'd dic- orated. An’ thin Mamie wid her smoile would hustle about an’ get out th’ brid—for th’ mait had long since been spoiled by atin'—an’ she'd sing a song av happy days, an’ little Dinnis would crow loike a staim-ingine, an’ they'd THEY DIDN'T COUNT. “ Tsee Tammany * about What for 2" “To use at the polls.” invited over all those bogus counts that you read kape it up till Murphy's jaw would go back tits pesition an’ th’ hope would be showin’ in his oyes agin. An’ they'd r'mimber whoile they forgot. Arrah, ‘tis a foine felly is Moike Murphy—but ‘tis a foiner one is Mamie. Shure, they niver got hungry, aven whin they wor all but shtarved, an’ thot Din- nis he'd smack thim lips an’ gurgle loike a suckin’ dove whin he'd be fid milk thot wor two-thirds water. One mornin’ Mamie she says t° Moike, says she, “Tis th’ great mail we'll hov this noight, Moike.” “ Yez be foolin’ me, darlint,” says Moike. “ Oi'm not,” says she, “ but Oi'm not so shure—niver moind,” says she; “ wait till yez come home.” An’ Moike wint out an’ worked all day doin’ nothin’, an’ whin he come home his chin wor down agin an’ his oyes wor spittin’ water. Thin he almost fill in a fit, for on th’ table wor mait an’ brid an’ a big schooner av milk an’ a hunk av cake an’ a miss av pickles. “ Where did yez get it?” says he. th’ midd! 1, THE REASON WHY HE SHAVED. Mrs, Robbenheim presents Mr. Robbenheim with a very beautiful and expensive dia- mond-stud on his birthday.” “Mrs. Smith brought it in,” says she. “Th’ super's woife?” says he. “ Th’ same,” says she. Thin a frown come on Moike’s face. “Charity,” says he wid his lower jaw up. “ Yis,” says she, ‘an’ ‘tis all for yez, Moike darlint, for Oi'm not hungerin’.” An’ Moike looked at her an’ took a long brith t' kape from cavin’ in, an’ says he, “'Tis s’ full Oi am Oi could- n't ate a mouthful.” Thin Mamie towld him av th’ visit she'd had th’ day b'fore from Mrs, Smith, “She towld me,” says she, "thot ivery fam ly on th’ hill wor complainin’ but us, an’ many av thim had no rai- A A YANKEE TRICK. Ett —“ Th’ grocers put all thar leetle apples at th’ bottom. o' th’ bar'l, pap. FATHER —* Wa-al, we don’t ; we put our leetle apples in . an’ big apples on both ends.” ELI — ‘* Good idee, pap ; that leaves yew safe no matter which end o' th’ bar'l they open up.”” son for it, an’ thot’s how she come t’ come t’ us. An’ whin she said she'd sind some food Oi thought av Dinnis an’ yez, an’ didn’t r'fuse.” “ What's this in th’ turrane ?” says Moike. “ Oi didn’t open it,” says Mamie, “ for Oi thought we'd open it t'gither. “Oh, moy ! oh, moy !" says Moike, * an’ yez be a woman too !" He looked about koind av doubtful loike an’ wor soilent. “Yis,” says he after a bit, “ woman, for there's Dinnis.”” Thin he lifted th’ cover from th’ turrane. “ A liter!” says he, An’ bejakers, ‘twor a liter from Smith tillin’ Moike t’ come t’ work th’ nixt mornin’; an’ Dinnis, th’ kid, wor th’ only one thot wor not floodin’ th’ floor wid tears th’ nixt minute. “'Twor Mrs. Smith as done it,” says Moike. “Shure, Smith 's th’ luckiest felly in th’ world barrin’ mesilf.” An’ thin there wor a sound loike th’ pop- pin’ av a cork, an’ Dinnis troied t’ put th’ cat in his mouth, an’ th’ happiness floatin’ in th’ room wor thot thick a bloind man could see it. DAVID H. TALMADGE. ez must be a Il. THE REASON WHY HE SHAVED. How Robbenheim looked the day after his birthday. comicbooks.com