Judge — March 28, 1903 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

A MOONLIGHT PASTEL. HE moonlight fell full upon the greensward of the park at Palm beach. The greensward was soit, however, and the moonlight sustained no serious injuries. Two figures might have been seen sit- ting in a secluded nook. They were economizing space in a painfully evident manner. The voice of the youth rose and fell to the music of the sea, and finally staggered to its feet and remarked, “Winsome damsel, I am in love. I have ar- rived at this conclusion not hastily, but after care- ful introspection and experimentation. Since first I met you I have been troubled, my most alarm- ing symptom being an aching void. To-night the throbbing of that vacuum has been so strong that I have been able to locate it in my heart.” The voice of the youth choked with mingled emotion and tobacco, both of which he had been swallowing right along. Spreading a handker- chief upon the ground, he fell upon his knees, severing in his impetu- osity the last bond of connection between his suspenders and his sky- blue trousers. “Oh, fairest of maids !” he pleaded, «enter now into that emptiness and fill it with thy light and lavender per- fume.” 1 ss > I Ss 25 iG GSB Sous — dt Se: wes ve Ny == SP 55 29> GENUINE INSPIRATION. S6QAY!" exclaimed the author, jumping to his feet; “say! just got the inspiration for a story that will sell a million copies before the ink is dry.” “Good !" declared his friend. “Good? Why, man, it’s superb! I'm going to write a story that will be cherished in the boudoir of every woman in the world. I've only thought of one character, and that is the hero; but he'll be the dream and the despair of every female between the ages of eight and eighty before my book has been out for a week.” “You don’t say! What sort of a hero is he?” “He is to be the man who invented bargain-sales.” T've SHE WAS A BIRD. 66.4 MOS,” sighed Mehitabel Scruggs, “doesn't the spring bring an inspiration to your soul ? “ Mebbe it does, Mehitabel,” answered Amos Medooney. “Doesn't it bring to you tender, soulful, thrilling thoughts when you see the little birds making their nests and choosing their mates ? Doesn't it make you think of a nest for yourself and—and—and "—— “ Mehitabel !" gasped Amos, reaching for her hand, “ you've got me up a tree.” The fairest of maids smiled sadly and abruptly. Her face wore that far-away expression so characteristic of Pike’s peak. Her mind was wandering down the dim corridors of memory and had far to go. Her silence had the delicate odor of pepsin gum. The youth pressed her for an answer until his arm ached with the exertion. Finally, after consulting her note-book, she made reply, “At present Iam heart- free. However, Jimmie Brown is scheduled for two weeks from next Monday; until then [am thine.” As the fateful words fell from her lips the youth caught them before they hit the ground and pressed them to his bosom. The maid leaned over and planted a kiss on his youthful brow, coyly removing her teeth as she did so. After regulating their hearts so as to run neck and neck, and combining their thoughts into one idea, they wandered out into the cold, unfeeling world, and naught could be heard in the palm- punctured atmosphere save the strident bazoo of the dys- peptic toy alligator. ERCULES had just cleaned out the Augean stables. “But how,” asked his companions, “did you manage to do it?” « Easy,” replied the hero in a whisper. “You ought to see my wife clean house.” With an involuntary shudder he rushed forth to meet the Nemean lion. reall TT THE BRIDGE-JUMPER'S LEAP FOR FAME; OR, WHY HE WAS GLAD TO CLING TO LIFE. comicbooks.com