Judge — December 3, 1898 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

long as ladder. jast shi “Don't let that worry you, sir. Three months is as you'll care to live in Lonesomeville—I'll guarantee you that.” ROM JUDGE'S DICTIONARY. Gayety—A lightsomeness of deportment affected by persons who are too young to know what life is and by others who are too thoughtless to appreciate what it isn't. Hypocrite—One whose lips are in collusion with his intellect to defraud his soul. One whose conception of truth is synonymous with expediency; who wends the primrose path of dalliance with heavier tread than good men travel the straight and narrow Way. The hypo- crite is like a weak city in a state of siege—his professions may any time be put to proof, his motives laid bare, and the reputation a life- time of dexterity and dissimulation has earned blasted in a moment. Of all sinners the hypocrite is most obdurate, for it would require a high degree of heroism, after receiving for years the respect and ad- miration of his fellows, to acknowledge himself an empty vessel of deception. RDWARD CLAYTON SAVAGE. QUATRAIN. THANK God for peace; again thank God for war When wrongs are righted, though we much abhor The clash of arms, Yet right must ever rise Upon the firm foundation, sacrifice ! EDWARD WILLIAM DUTCHRR, OBEYING ORDERS. THE proprietor of a Third-avenue restau- rant hired an English cook last week. The day after engaging him a native of Boston strolled in and called for a hot mince-pie for his breakfast. The proprietor took a cold pie from the case, walked back to the kitchen, handed the pie to the cook and said, “ Heat that pie.” Five minutes later the Proprietor went into the kitchen and made inquiry about the pie. “Well,” said he, “did you heat that pie?” “Yes, sir,” re- sponded the English cook (. \ faintly, and rues fully rubbing | his solar-plexus; — / - A “Hi beat hev- 7-7 ery bit hof hit. Hi didn’t want the blooming poi,sir,has Hi'm just hafter h’eat- ing my break- fast; but you told me to h’eat hit, h’and Hi h’ate hit. Hi halways hobey horders, SOMEWHAT OF AN EPICURE. Mrs, Hayfed— How strange Towser did not run at you. He generally seems to divine in some way that you fellows get the food reserved for him.” Tatler de Mation—* You wrong de faithful animal's sagasserty, mum. He evidently deduced from me genteel appearance dat I wuz not after dat class uv food, mum.” NO EXPOSE. Panson—"* See that superstitious ignoramus, afraid to walk under that ‘The idea of walking under a ladder bringing any one bad luck ! bat jow up the nonsensicality of the idea.” But unfortunately for the parson, while passing under the ladder, a stépid painter dropped his paint-brush. comicbooks.com I