Judge — December 4, 1897 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

HE IMPROVED THE OPPORTUNITY, Jupce—‘ It shall be moved to discharge you. Prisoner — let no sech chance ez that slip, Yew know haow it is yewrself.” TURKEY TIME, “Ye shall eat of the fat of the land.”"—Gawasis xtv., 18, H, I love to hear the cheery little bluebirds on the wing ‘As they warble out their high delight so early in the spring. "Bout the time the buds a-bus waked up the honey-bees An’ the flicker finds the sap a-risin’ in the sugar-trees ; When the fiel’-lark an’ the robin an’ the tomtit an’ the wren Seems to be all in a flutter ‘at they've got back home again ; For it's then the turkey-hens begin to hunt a place to lay, An’ I count the speckled eggs an’ think of next Thanksgivin’ day. Then I love to hear the redbirds whistle when the fields of wheat With the summer winds acrost ‘em seems to sizzle in the heat, An’ the shadders of the buzzards flyin’ round an’ round the sky Makes you look up where it's nice an’ cool an’ wish ‘at you could fly, Till you sigh an’ wipe your sweaty face an’ lay down in the shade Just to watch the turkey-pullets actin’ like they're on parade, ‘All a-struttin’ ‘crost the medder, pickin’ crickets by the way, ‘An’ a-wendin’ slowly forrards up towards Thanksgivin’ day. Oh, the cheery little bluebird brings the spring-time in his throat, Wakin’ up the daffodillies as they listen to his note, ‘An’ the redbird scatters summer blazin’ from his scarlet wings, s lots o' ripe tomatoes an’ all sorts o' pleasant things. when I hear the mottled quail fling out his breezy call *At | think the fall-time o' the year 's the best time of ‘em all ; For it’s then you're apt to want to bet how much the gobbler ‘Il weigh, Just to brag about how nigh you hit it on Thanksgivin’ day. Then it’s always in the early fall you feel so sort o' sad, For you git to callin’ back to mind the blessin’s you have had, ‘An’ your friends an’ feller-nabors ‘at's done died or gone away, Till your eyes gits kind o' misty an’ you don’t have much to say, ‘An’ you want to.be alone an’ yit you want somebody nigh, An’ you git so kind o' restless, you can't tell edzactly why— But the’s others, as I've often found, is apt to feel that way, ‘An’ it's when they've et too much fat turkey on Thanksgivin’ day, EDWIN 5. HOPKINS. a OT THE RIGHT KIND. Crty—"“Are you interested in current literature, Uncle Josh?" Uncte Jost —** Wa-al, I was readin’ a book about small fruits yis- terday, but they ain’t no money in raisin’ currants this year.” MANAGERIAL DISCOMFITURE. MASTER OF CEREMONIES—"" Hay, Mike, have dis bout dat'’s on scratched! D’ bot® principals are so scared of each odder dat we can't get any perfeck films ov dem ter work in der kineteoscope.” A TRIFLE BACKWARD. ++ POKETON is a pretty slow place isn't it?” “Well, rather, The styles for the fall of 1890 haven't got so they look thor- oughly comfortable there yet.” THE ORIENTAL WAY. Little Mickey —* Oi saw Hop Lung. the laundryman, radin’ a Choinase book jist now, Instid av doin’ loike a whoite man, shure, he begins at the back an’ rades upwards,” McLubberty—" Begorra! is the poor divil lift-handed or cross-oyed, or phwat?” ‘ems strange that so respectable-appearing a man as you should be arrested for intoxication ; but if, as you say, you lost your wife yesterday, I Phankee. jedge — yew see, 'Mandy an’ I kum tew taown yisterday tew see the sights an‘ I lost her in Central park, an’ of course I couldn't UP-TO-DATE. comicbooks.com