Judge — July 19, 1902 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT THE JUDGE BUILDING, 210 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW TORK. Terms to Subscribers. unireo st ND CANADA IN ADVANCE Ove copy, one year, or 52 numbers = - $500 Ove copy, six months, oF 20 numbers + "3-50, ‘One copy, for thiriren weeks cs = has facluding the Cumistatas Jurce FORFIGN SUPSCRIPTIONS—To all foreicn countries in Wesruxx Ornce—S28-829 Marquette Building, Chicage. Ever an satis. EC, London. Germany 1e postal union, $5.00 a year ame and address written plaialy oa each and every separate shetch. The accompanyiog jote or descriptive letter-press should in every lestance be written opon its individual picture, aed NOT upon a separate slip of paper. nclosure of stamps fo the fall amoust of postage is also required, tetera of material not accepted. PON the turquoise billow’s crested top The summer girl, the pearl of all the sea, With gay abandon bobs in boundless glee, The sweetest of the peacherino crop. The man who sees her yearns to be her prop For life—that is, to hold her heart in fee And plod to glean for this entrancing she The golden wherewithal w th which to shop. A brief space hence he sees this siren cute Lean from the window of her perfumed lair And envies, while he heaves a wistful sigh, The hyacinthine zephyr, rapture mute, That nestles in the tangles of her hair She sweetly shakes athwart the sill to dry. [7 BEGINS to look as if the coal crop will be more or less of a failure this year. ITIS the grim hand of fate, And it knocks us awry, And we sadly gyrate As we sing with a sigh, “Oh, there’s nothing but froth in the beer-mug and there’s naught but meringue in the pie.”” ‘THANKSGIVING. F HILL should be nominated in 1904, or in any other year for that mat- Aer, it is quite safe to say that his party will have bitten off more than the public can chew. . F THE DIFFERENCE between tweedledee and tweedledum should be settled by arbitration one of the finest and most elastic figures of polit- ical speech would be forever wiped out and lost. THE KIND of party chin-music that passes current for Democratic har- mony is about as dulcet when discoursed to the accompaniment of the bass-drum as it could possibly be to that of flutes and soft recorders. I" IS BELIEVED that Grover Cleveland will make another attempt to tise from the ashes of defeat. Although many ornithologists consider him more of a pheebe-bird than a pharnix, the fact still remains that he has an ast intellect and a twenty-four-inch neck. ROKER fondly fancies that he is the entire meringue of the Demo- cratic pie in New York, when in reality he is not more than two gat= goyles and a half of it. At the same time he is all meringue of a quality that makes this unique pie anything but digestible and nightmare-proof. A LITTLE imitation pearl of oriental wisdom that Tom Johnson should paste on the inside of his bonnet, where it may be read and digested by the presidential bee while the latter is giving his frou-frou a brief rest, is that the seventeen-cent straw bathing-hat never makes itself ridiculous by attempting to be a forty-dollar panama. R. BRYAN rises to remark, and with great verbosity and pomp, that Grover Cleveland has wrecked the Democratic party. Up to the time of going to press we had always been of the opinion that if the Dem- ocratic party ever was officially wrecked the wrecking was accomplished by the statesman with the pugilistic gift of gab—in other words, the ir furnace whose cloud of deep despair is still said to havea Mr. Bryan, with all due respect, scatters too much. If he at his best as a political philosopher he would better lose no time in putting a hot-air brake on his organ of speech. HAT flies like an aureate comet aglow, Surcharged with an anguish we never may feel And filled with a terror we never may know, Our heart-beats to stop and our blood to congeal; What flies like the wind of the storm on its way, A-brim with a turbulent worry and fret, So wild-eyed and swift? ’Tis the café au lait Bow-wow as he leads by a length the scap-net. meen ie Mrs. Hanoout—"‘ Poor fellow! I suppose you have nothing to be thankful for."* Traup—* Wot! after catin’ dis grub, ma’am—an' still livin’ 2” or 2 9-—— comicbooks.com