Judge — September 2, 1899 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

HIS FATE. A-AL, no,” said honest Farmer introck, in reply to the ques- tion of the inquisitively-inclined map-peddler. “ That ‘ere curis- lookin’ contraption that you seen out in the field as you was driv- in’ up ain't a scarecrow of my own invention, although I use it to frighten the crows ; it is sim- ply all that we have left now to remind us of our ingenious neph- ew, Lyman J. Gapperson, who invented a flyin’- machine, once ona time, and hasn't done any- thing since. Tell you about him, if you like. “In other respects Lyman was all right, but he got the no- tion stuck in his head some way that he was cut out to revolution- ize aerial circumnavigation, as 1 believe he described the interest- in’ process; and I honestly ‘pose before he got his plans perfected to suit himself he wasted enough gray matter, thinkin’ over it, to have, at a rough es- timate, greased all the ox-cart axles in the state of Vermont, most of the squirt-gun pistons in existence, to have greased a ring on the wall-paper all around half of the settin'-rooms in the whole state of Connecticut, and to have fooled away enough more besides to have lavishly anointed the greased-poles at five or eight well-attended pop- ulist picnics. He was a very profound thinker, Lyman was, and when he was in one of his dark-brown studies you could almost hear his brains ON THE SLY. hornets, A LOWLY AMBITION, Mrs. Jones —‘* Tommy says he'd like to be a pirate.” Mr. Joxes —"* Where did the young villain get such a low idea as that? Why, them Pittsburgs are way down on the base-ball list and still dropping.” Tue ric—'* Wouldn't the farmer be just wild if he saw me taking this anti-fat 7" buzzin’ like a swarm of angry, yaller-tailed “He ain't with us any more, poor Lyman ain't; he waved his hands in an appropriate gesture one day to his relatives and friends, sailed three hundred and seventeen feet through the atmosphere, and lit all spraddled out in kingdom come. He is there yet, as far as I have ever been able to find out. Accompanied by several of his admirers, he ascended that little hill over there, intendin’ to sail majestically across the valley and alight on the opposite hill, where a party of youths and maidens had assembled to strew him with flowers when he Itt, to sentimentally express the lea. “ He buckled on his wings, tail and etcetteries, waved his hands as before my business.” iF WaT reRS i | Wt tcnus oat Jeawr sine) Be CAM! Ze” new T¢ ORGANICED BE FUST NITE | DAT ROMDISHUUS HIS REASON. Why am yo" sech a rabid anti-expansiouist * Cause I's forever opposed to any kind ob a game dat hain’t got a *anty ’ in stated, and hopped off from the top of the hill. A few minutes later his tail fetched loose and dropped off like a sere and yaller leaf in autumn, as they say in stories, displacin’ his centre of gravity and destroyin’ his calcu- lations, or something of the kind, and down he came, whirlin’ over and over like a circus-clown, toward the lightnin’-rod on top of the pizarro of the summer hotel you notice down there at the foot of the hill. “ They didn’t have time to move the hotel, much as I s'pose they would have liked to, and so, with a fiendish yell, he implicated himself, as you might say, on the lightnin’-rod; and there he remained with the point of the rod peepin’ coyly out of the middle of his back, till they spliced a jag of ladders together and got him down. “We buried him, bein’ as that was about all there was left for us to do, and the youths and maidens before referred to came and strewed his grave with flowers. I keep the remains of his flyin’- machine out there in the field for sentimental rea- sons; it reminds me of poor Lyman, and it skeers the crows into fits. * Tom F, Moncan. ONE OF THOSE NEEDLESS QUES- TIONS a 2, Tue rourer—" Well. I guess ; tha Des fenowr over tt comicbooks.com