Judge — March 3, 1900 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

HARD TO CIVILIZ: Mrs. Jones (reading)—* One Filipino got shot through the head, heart, lungs and stomach, and still recovered.” Mr. Jones—" Berrr! It's a thankless job trying to civilize such a people as that.”” ON THE RIALTO. s+ KNOCKED ‘em again, my boy—knocked ‘em again, Safe for three hundred nights. And if I do say it there isn’t an- other actor in the business who has my pull with the women. Why, only last week one of the finest society ™ “Pshaw, sir! that fellow with his swagger and his dia- monds and his waxed mustache talk about acting —a stick that wouldn't have been f a banner in the days of “ Nothing like the old school, sir—nothing like it. They can’t beat us even if our hair is white. These two boys thought they had it all to themselves last night until the old man went on, With ‘em all the way, sir— to the end, sir. I remember the time that Booth "—— “Yes, Jenny; made me three offers in one week. Went down on his knees, pulled out a pistol and swore he'd shoot himself if “—— “ There she goes, made up to the eyes, inches thick, my dear— to carry there,” idge never saw such diamonds. Had to pay Levy two thousand clear to get her opening at Hallack’s. And honest women may starve while "—— “Called us at nine- thirty, and everybody dead-letter perfect. Brute wanted to go to the races, 1 suppose "— “Chance of my life, old girl. Montague in her tantrums as usual, Swore she'd throw up her part &, and stormed out of the stage-door. You ought to “have seen her face when she saw me go in for it. And the papers say "—— “Poor Jack! looking like a ghost in his mourn- ing. Always loved her though she treated. him badly, and they say that when she was dying she REPARTEE IN ARCADIA. CntoLty Cenraur—* Say, ain't you a quecr-looking thing? Jove certainly made a bull when he made yot you.” Mike Minataur—"' Yes; and when he drew up your plan it was a horse on A LONG ROAD. Preacter—* Do you know that a drunkard can never enter heaven ?” Boozer—"* Well, heaven is such a long distance off, I guess a fellow will be pretty sober before he gets half-way . EDITOR, STORY AND MORAL, A well-dressed young man, keen eyed, broad shouldered, ruddy of cheek and firm of limb, opens a door marked “*Private—no admittance " and walks nonchalantly in. This is the poet. Seated at a desk within is a mild- eyed elderly gentleman who is gently dallying with a pug-dog and smoking a cigarette. This is the editor. They shake hands, tell a few new stories, crack a few new jokes, swap a few new lies, discourse of the latest opera and murder, and go out to lunch together. This is the story. Tt sounds strange, we know, but the truth always sounds strange when. you see it in a comic paper. This is the moral. sent for him and cried on his shoul- der with her arms around his neck, and said "—— “Got us out on the wilds of Michigan and then lit out with the Saturday night's receipts. Had to hock my locket to get home. With Will sick and everything in pawn it's"—— “Star part now, my boy. Works her eyes right along and mashes them both ways. Voice like a fog- hom. Chicago feet. Gotacinch on Lewison,who is putting up the dough. And two years ago she was slingin’ hash in"—— “ Dropped right in the street. Want of food, the doctors say. Lord! what an actor he was in his day, but "—— SAQUI surTH. RUTH is not always in season, but may always be sea- soned. comicbooks.com