Judge — May 7, 1898 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

SYNONYMOUS. SMiTH—"* Yes, Jones; I'm go- ing fishing. Won't you go along?" jon No; thanks, old fel- tow.” T ain't drinkin’ now.” A SPRING TRAGEDY. A GIRL in a gray gown wan- ders through the shadowy sunshine of an April day. There is hesitation in her step, but resolve is in her clear and steadfast eye. A brawny-armed laborer is digging, digging. ‘The hard clods of earth fall with dull thuds on the soft spring grass. The fair maid pauses and looks into the yawning gulf he has made. “You are digging that for me?” she says slowly. "Yes, lady,” answers the man as he bends again to his work. ape “Yes, lady,” answers the man with a pitying glance at the fragile girl. How young and fair she is! How pink her rose-leaf cheek! She looks down into the gaping chasm and sees a tiny worm wriggling there. She shivers. “Dig it deeper,” she commands with a strange vehe- mence; and she mutters to herself as she grasps convul- sively in her hand a tiny white packet, “To-morrow I shall fill it.” Again she looks at the dug depths. “To think!" she muses, and a sad smile curves her lips, “in a few months the grass will grow again and the bright flowers, like butterflies, will hover above it.” And with one last look at the moist, brown earth she turns and walks slowly away. “Yes,” she says to herself, “1 am sure | am right. Though others may try to persuade me to a different course, | am sure that is the best way to plant sweet peas.” CAROLYN WELLS. WHY are agreeable men so mean and good men so disagreeable? Johnny having broken a rule, the teacher breaks a rule also, A RHYME FOR MOVING- DAY. OF ALL the nightmares ever dreamed Since Adam's life began, This nightmare of a moving-day Is quite the worst—to man, Wild chaos reigns. If out of #his My wife can order bring I swear I'll never move again— No, never—till next spring. JUDITH srexcen, THE NEXT THING. Young Mrs. McBride (at the telephone)—" Hello! Is that Dr. Doce? Well, I wish you'd come and see baby right away— she has the croup, But stop a minute. Do you give trading- stamps?” AT THE RECEPTION. Mrs. Sharpe—" Excuse me, Mrs. Uppby; but your— AN APPLICANT. your”. Mrs. Uppby (who has on one of her husband’s neckties) —"Oh, what is it? Is anything SaTAN—"' You want a job as overseer in the torture department, eh? Do you know that it takes an experienced hand—one who has the instincts of a brute and is Broof against human suffering?) How am I to know that you would discharge the ties of such a positon faithfully?” Well, your highness, I'm a Spaniard, and"—— (Je gets the position.) wrong with me?” Mrs, Sharpe—" Yes; 1 be- lieve your—your belt has got up around your neck.” “Dig it deep and wide and long,” she says; and her voice is like the wail of an xolian harp. 3 comm: caste THE WESTERN METHOD, City Nernew—"* Ring the bell, Uncle Cal ; this is our corner.” CaTAMOUNT CAL (just in from the west)—"' Sartinly comicbooks.com