Judge — June 20, 1903 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

age PUBLISHED, WEEKLY AT THE PARKER BUILDING, POURTH AVE. AND NINETEENTH 8T., NKW YORK. Wasreen Aoveerisinc O quette Building, Chicage Terms to Subscribers. UNITED STATES AND CANADA IN ADVANCE. One copy, one year, or s2 numbers. = Se b500 One copy, sx months, or 36 numbers - e co ‘One copy, for thirteen weeks Ker Toctuding the Cunistaas Juocr. To all foreign countries in the postal union, $4.00 a year. Evnorean SALEs-acents—/aternational news company, Bream's building, Chancery lane f EG, London, Brentan's, avenue de bOpera, Paris; Saarback's news exchange, Mains, Germany. The coatents of JUDGE are protected by copyright in both the United States and Great Britale. ¢ prompt i IST, gentle reader, to our gentle toot— By their canned fruits the grocers shall be known. eee WHen NATURE put great knot-holes in the tree, Perhaps ’twas that the small boy might observe The baseball match for nothing through the fence. cee Love sing the praises of the golden straw That slants aloft at forty-five degrees— The frail, connecting link that weds serene The rapt soul and the julep lush and cool. HE luscious oyster gayly abdicates, And in his stead the fat, ambrosial clam Taps the blithe timbrel, and enravished we List to the Dorian note that syllables. His madcap rapture while the dog-star shines. THE watersly on the silvern wave Is tilting to and fro in sweet unrest. Its heart ’s a maze of dreams of fairy gold, In none of which the trembling lily learns The fact the boniface ne’er trumpets loud— It is a moon-kissed cup of sculptured grace, Filled to the very brim with typhoid germs. [UNCLE SAM is well aware of his limitations, if he can be truthfully said to have limitations, which is not absolutely certain, as he has never yet faced a proposition that could push or make him hustle. It even seems to the crowned heads that his patience, endurance and good-nature are also without a limit, and to this conclusion we attribute the fact that the various rulers are endeavoring to gather unto themselves many parcels of real estate to which they have no just right. In fact, to use an expression that has more force than elegance, each of these various monarchs wants the earth: They are not satisfied with what they have, but, Oliver-Twist-like, want more. They would better keep their hands off Uncle Sam’s preserves and not stir him up. Although he does not make a practice of strutting de- fiantly about with a chip on his shoulder, he will always be found ready to proceed to make the proverbial fur and feathers fly at the shortest possible notice when sufficiently and properly provoked by these poster-like person- ages that call themselves potentates and are always prepared to grab any- thing within reach. Uncle Sam is more grabbed against than grabbing; and while he never fractures his deltoid muscles in reaching out for the property of others, he understands the high art of holding on to his own with a cast-iron grip so well that, if the heads under the aforesaid crowns are clear and level, the owners will immediately put the air-brake of every- day common sense on their everlasting greed and not further worry and annoy their dear old well-wishing avuncular relative, who is too fond of harmony to care for discord when the weather is so oppressively hot. R. CLEVELAND is ever before the public, and is therefore practically a continuous or vaudeville candidate. Wherever he prances and capers he never fails to coruscate, so to speak, in the similitude of a candidate. He is now peregrinating about, Diogenes-like, in quest of a strictly honest man to bear the Democratic banner next year, while feeling in his bones that he is the one person possessed of all the requirements necessary to impress the country and to make a successful run. Mr. Cleveland is certainly the possessor in fee simple of a red-hot fancy and a quick, though not free, silver imagination. He is a dreamer of dreams and a schemer of schemes and a forecaster of forecasts. He juggles the names and the memories of Jefferson and Jackson with the skill of a necromancer in the performance of his little peanut-shell game of politics, and by so do- ing he has actually succeeded in impressing a handful of people and himself that he is not an eighteen-karat political gold-brick. He is busy bellowing and braying up and down the lanes and byways, a solid three-hundred- pound beauty moving like a phalanx to the Dorian mood of flutes and soft recorders. He may be easily recognized as Diogenes by his huge wash- tub—which, by the way, will not help him with his party, which has only a cat-like appreciation of water—and by his lantern, which, like the lamp of the wise virgin, is kept filled with oil for business purposes. He is a picturesque proposition physically as well as politically, and if his support- ers will but respectfully listen they will hear the mellifluous and persuasive accents of the three speeches which he delivers simultaneously—one by each of his three separate and distinct chins, that work like an accordion. But these henchmen will probably find more rational enjoyment and a new promoter of digestion and assimilation in watching the oleaginous sylph of Princeton as he skips the airy saraband before the amorous looking-glass of his fantastic all-round greatness. WHERE HE'D LIKE TO WORK. Farmer Hayrick—"'I have no use for such men as you.” Weary Wituie “Gee! dis is de very place I'd like ter git a job.” comicbooks.com