Judge — June 17, 1899 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

375 because they are profitable spend- ers; but I must confess that’ my sorest trial is the realistic novelists who are indigenous to the intellect- ual hub itself.” “Why,” exclaimed the sympa- thetic visitor, “I should think that you would be’ proud to have-them make your cozy Bittle café their head intellectual tone you toves” “Quite, true, said’ the: restau~ rateur; “but you ‘overlook. one thing. “ What is that?” "They are so earnest in their work that they bring their local color here to dine with them, and its presence lowers the tone of my establishment.” EASILY EXPLAINED. ONLY men cashiers have faithless been At such theft no woman connives, A DOUBTFUL IMPROVEMENT. Pat—" Th’ divil ! Olive crop Mixe—" Shpoiled nawthin’, dudes shmoke.” ped me poipe roight into me custard pie an’ shpoiled half a bowl av good terbacker” Why women yield never to that sin, ’at. It'll tashte an’ shmell now jist loike wan av thim perfumed cigaroots thot th’ ‘They have no extravagant wives. WHERE HE DREW THE. LINE. keeper; many peculiar ex- periences, and some of them try, my tem- per sorely. - Ijeing the receipts from my little shop for the living of myself and my growing family. am unable to be as strict about the people I enter- tain as I would like to be. Men from New York and Chi- cago come here and SS enterain their Bos- ton friends at lunch, and offend me grievously with their slipshod English, but I say nothing, Vulgar pugilists. and sporting mén discuss their prospective AbjUTANT—" Do You"find that the mustard-plasters I recommended have done the cold in your elms ~ chest any good ? t fights over a bottle in my back room, and | suffer it Tuk OstricH—<"" No; strange to say, they haven't. But I've eaten only six.” THERE WERE SEVERAL. +sQO MRS. DEARBORN is dead?" said one Chicago woman ‘to another. Yes." “How many ex-husbands did she leave?” “3THE..SUBURBAN GIRL. | KNOW by the way all salute her, If in love I could be her fond tutor, T'd pick up my sticks, Move out to the chicks, And live all my life a commuter. CURTAILING HIS ‘FAITH Farmer Burgosh="Ye know Gap Swank didnt believe in banks an’ kept his money in an old boot under the bed?” IN THE “CRACKER” COUNTRY. Wine sa ened MS t Gracious, "Mandy! what sort uf moth ‘s bin at yer blankit?” : noe W gallo MaNpby—'* Oh, thet wa’n't no moth. Our roof leaks some, an’ wherever the water struck it shrunk so fast it tore wg OL fi ,, out a clean hole.” don’t believe in old boots now. comicbooks.com