Judge — October 22, 1904 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

FAME, ROM head to foot I'm picturesque In decorations, don't you know’; In filigree and arabesque T simply glimmer, gleam and glow. All sorts of court-plaster conceits My gargoyle-grinning head adorn, And nothing in the art line beats The Maltese croxs upon my horn. These high-art patches make me proud Until T don’t know what to do. No more the girls would round me crowd Were Ta lion in the 200. And Tam brimming full of glee, For highest fame 's now mi A football idol, after me They're going to name a cigarette. you bet. THE PRACTICAL POET. Se THE manipulation of the rhythmic ad. is all very well,” said the practical poet, « but there's still easier graft in this honored profession. The nervous prostration that followed my three years of toil as a poetical adsmith was only softened by the golden returns from the game. But there came a time when the spondee and anapest refused to work and the iambic pentameter went on a long vacation. My verses grew so weak and invertebrate that, horror of horrors ! I feared that I would be compelled to write for the magazines for a living. But when I opened this office for the examination of manuscript, with advice as to where to land the commodity, I was astounded at the extent and variety of budding genius in the country. Now the creative agony is over, the stuff and shekels pour joyfully in, and Ican lay good and sufficient claim to shine as one of the step-fathers of American liter- atu Sete Man THE INTELLIGENT BUNNIES. 1, ‘Squire Goopman—"'If I only knew you would quit nibbiing my cabbages | would try an’ stop hunters from shooting you.” BUCKWHEAT PARADISE. ‘0! ax me what de matter An’ why Tam so gay. De cook am mixin’ batter, Theah de missus say. Dat batter made ob buckwheat, An‘ buckwheat am de cake, Yo! always want ter eat it Fas’ as de cook kin bake. De buckwheat am de pancake Dat comes fust at de meal ; Den spa’ribs, den mo’ pancakes Ob buckwheat, Dat's de deal. Yo" sta't de meal on buckwheat, Wid hog-meat on de side ; An’ when yo" finish hog-meat Yo'r mouf yo" open wide. Fo’ anudder stack am comin’ Yo'r way ef yo" but wait Den pour de ‘lasses, hummi “Hallelujah! dis am great.” GOLD COIN IN IT. “ Our firm has acquired the Bonanza gold-mine.”* “Why, that mine was worked out long ag. “No; not yet. Two thousand ‘suckers’ have answered ‘our ads."" THE REGULAR OCCURRENCE. THE stars drop fading out of sight, The bursts and diadems, And thus it is that Actress Night Contrives to lose her gems. THEY WERE ALL RIGHT. E WAS a typical backwoods farmer. His first visit to a city restaurant, however, had taken away none of the appetite he had at home, where everything was placed in large dishes on the centre of the table and each one helped himself, The waiter had piled the food around the plate in the customary little dish- es, which the farmer cleaned up in turn, Settling back in his chair, he hailed the passing waiter. “Hey, there, young man! your samples are all right. Bring on the rest of the stuf. DISAPPOINTMENTS. F WISHES were horses Small good it would do. You'd find they would mainly Be “also-ran,” too. GOLF, [TS strange you don't play gol. All the high-toned set do. Maybe they think it's funny to knock a homeopathic pill with a retroussé-nosed stick over half a township. But I don't