Judge — October 1, 1904 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

BALLADE OF THE CAMPAIGN. THE Democrats in rage complain, And Taggart sounds a fearful cry, For Davis is too safe and sane— He lays but fifty thousand by, And deems that figure rather high For funds to wage the coming fray ; But then, he knows, they can't deny He simply throws his dough away. What good to let his dollars drain Until his barrel has run dry? He has no show ; he fights in vain, However bravely he may try. Bat Thomas Taggart 's after pie, Bill Bryan only talks for pay, And Davis gives and heaves a si He simply throws his dough away. It goes against his frugal grain To let his purse-strings freely fly ; It fills his soul with poignant pain ‘To watch his bank-account grow shy. Judge Parker sees his chances die As Davis stands them off each day. Defeat and doom they both decry — He simply throws his dough away. LENVOL. Oh, Mammon! god of gold, they fry, No win the fat for which they pray. And Davis knows the reason why— JUDGE'S FAVORITES. BLANCHE BUCKNER IN ‘' THE ISLE OF SPICE.” When we hear the music ripple unt the tempo of your fet , “i "That the band ean never beat, A FACT. And we watch your graceful acting, OOL'S day really begins upon Thal e'er sky-high ast we call, first of April and ends upon We are sure the triumph 's owing . To the girl behind it all. thirty-first of March. He simply throws his dough away FRANKLIN P. ADAMS. A MARINE MEMORY. I SHIPPED an awful bad crew one time, although they tried hard to do their work and was very well behaved. Thinks I to myself, these chaps ain't sailors—they've chosen the wrong road in life. Mebbe there is among ‘em them that could ‘a’ been great as, for instance, writers. I had bought four new novels to read durin’ the v'yage. I read ‘em. Then, thinks I, the fellers that I * ought to got to sail my ship are them that wrote these books, whether the men I have got to sail it are the men that ought to wrote these books or not. WHY HE COMPLAINED, MY BROTHER owned a milk-route. He says to me one day, * There's one man that I ain't goin’ to serve no more, because he’s always kickin’ on the quality of the milk. He says it ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.” * Who is it?” I asked. «They call him Appetite Joe," he answered. “You've read about him, He's the chap who's been arrested such a lot of times for sellin’ of gold- bricks to farmers when they come to town.” CHANCE TO RISE. need a boy about your size, and will pay you three dollars a weel Will | have a chance to rise?” Burcner—"'Oh, yes. You must be here at four o'clock every morning.” ‘pace fee. { A CHROMATIC CHARMER. SABELLA is brilliant in yellow, Isabella is dainty in pink ; And when she wears red She goes right to my head— Bella "s dearest in scarlet, I think. Purple sets off the fringe of her lashes, And orange becomes her well, too, While a violet gown Makes the envious frown— T never am “blue” when she's blue. 's stunningly svelte ina black dress, She's equally slim in a white ; And if you should ask me T think it would task me To say when she isn’t all ri What is it you hint? Tam partial?” Oh, skeptics you quite take the Yes—of course—bet your life Isabella 's my wife. What diffrence on earth does that make? CHANNING POLLOCK: A BARE POSSIBILITY. T HAPPENED that we overheard two serv- ants talking on the train as we went home. Said one, “Oh, th’ wages wor good an’ th’ wur-rk wor aisy. Shure, Oi do be sorry sometoimes I left th’ place.” It seemed intrusive to listen longer to such an intimate confession. Could it be true? Ex- perience is against it, and yet, and yet, does any of our former cooks look back sadly to her visit to our humble home and wish that it had not ended? Perhaps—perhaps ! comicbooks.com