Judge — August 13, 1904 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

‘PUBLISHED WEEKLY Ax rue Parxen Buripixc, FounTm AvENce axp Nivereentn Sraxxr, New Youre. Wasraen Avvexnsine Ornic riford Building, Chiwage, Ut. One copy, one year, or sznumbers- = ‘One copy, six months, or 26 numbers - ‘One copy, for thirteen weeks ‘OREIGN: onorean satns-acuxTs—/ntermational News Company, Bream's buil Including the Cunisruas Juoce. UPSCRIPTIONS—To all foreign countries in the postal union, $5.00 8 year. ing, Chancery Lane, E.C, London : Brentano's, Avenne del’ Opera, ‘ Suaréach's News Exchange, Mains, Germany, The contents of FUDGE are protected by copyright in both the United States and Great Britain. Infringement of this conyrigh will be promptly and digorously prosecuted. CONTRIBUTORS must inclose a stamped and self-addressed erfdelope with all manuscripts, othefwise return of the latter when found unavailable cannot be guaranteed. DRAWINGS and all contribations sent to the Art Devartment should harve the sender's fail name and adress ‘written plainly on each and every separate sketch. The accompanying foke or descriotive letter-press should in every instance be written upon its indtoltual picture, and NOT upon a separate slip of paper. Lictosure of stamps 10 the full amount of postage is also required, 10 insure safe and prompt return of matertal not accepted. PARKER may be this and Parker may be that; but after all is said and done concerning this political sphinx, he is still that which is or should be sufficient to damn him in the eyes of all intelligent voters, which is but another way of saying that he is Hill’s man—the man of the man of pea- nuts—the unspeakable Hill. ei THE PARKER TELEGRAM is now being boomed and developed into a campaign document, and the Democratic managers, press-agents and barkers fondly hope it will carry the election-day. After all, it is a diapha- nous screed, through which people who are not wide awake and lynx-eyed will have little difficulty in seeing. It will not come quite so near to beat- ing Roosevelt as the infamous Morey letter came to defeating Garfield. Between the lines of this theatrical message the people who can see and read aright will note the old familiar picture of wrecked hopes, ruined industries, free trade, tariff for revenue, and the Democratic dinner-pail that is quite as empty as the average Democratic platform promise. No matter how often and how skillfully this telegram may be juggled and twisted and perverted in meaning by the tricksters of the party, the people who look will see the rickety fabric behind it, and the reading will not be so pleasant as it other- wise might be. The merchant, the farmer, the capitalist, and the bare- breasted swinger of the pickaxe remember that in 1893 Grover Cleveland wantonly pawned the country, and that they were bitten hard and deep by the said pawning, and each of these worthies, like the proverbial burned cat, is naturally anything but partial to the fire. Mr. Parker will probably go into history as the man with the telegram in which he proved, to reverse the dictum of the Concord sage, that he knew better than he builded. With the ingenuity of the average clear-headed American woman, Mrs. Parker could have improved the judge’s justly-celebrated message in saying more by saying less, and at the same time keeping it down to the ten-word financial-triumph limit. wee WHEN THE DEMOCRATIC DONKEY made a trip to St. Louis, not long since, he went for the purpose of having what is known as a good, long, button-bursting laugh; and if laughter be infectious, the but- tons must have flown in every direction from the hearers of the fat-building guffaws of this mirth-provoking quadruped. Just what caused the hard- headed, iron-heeled beast to turn on his melodious voice in so wild a man- ner it is very difficult to say. It is more or less of a deep mystery that challenges the probe of the critic. Was the laugh on Bryan, or was it on Tammany? These are grave questions, which cause the seer to shake his head and to weep bitter tears into his moth-eaten whiskers in leaden-eyed despair. Perhaps the laugh was on the donkey himself. If so, he proves beyond all peradventure that he possesses a rare sense of humor, and is quite without prejudice or partiality when it comes to a keen, soulful appre- ciation of the sort of thing that is good, solid food for laughter. That grand and’ever-frisky antique, familiarly known as Uncle David, who is at pres- ent so great and conspicuous a part of the background against which the aforesaid donkey stands out and shines in the snow-white glamour of Aphrodite’s dove, might be able to throw some light on the situation, and by so doing solve the momentous question. Perhaps the donkey was sub- sidized by Uncle David and commanded to perform this act of rapture with a view to creating the impression that the laugh was on something other than himself. It was a grand, grand laugh that split the Democratic welkin, and echoed the feelings of the grand old Republican elephant that rocks lazily to and fro and chews the peanut of content, and dreams of the days that will be more than melancholy for him that did the laughing at St. Louis. ‘Up EXONERATED. Jupoe—' Prisoner—"' lvanoffsky Robyknvits! blofsyosky."” Jupoe—" Discharged! Prisoner, the officer says you were so drunk you didn’t know your own name. What's your name?" You wouldn't have to be very drunk to forget that."” comicbooks.com