Judge — August 19, 1905 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE'S FAVORITES. MADAM EMMA EAMES, WHO WILL MAKE A CONCERT TOUR OF THE COUNTRY THIS PALL. Our poor pen balks before such Art as yours: our muse is dumb. We want to say so much That's fine. Instead we're mum, We'd like to link you with The lark somehow that soars Aloft on happy wing and knits Together into something almost Joyous the noisy dissonances of the world jut we don’t know for sure that The lark does this. Again we hear you sing, and The shimmering tresses of the moon Upon the sea at night comes to Our fancy. The trouble is it don’t Come in just the right metre. But that, just the same. 's About the way we think of you, Madam Eames. ALWAYS A SCATTER-BRAIN. 46] HAVE come, seh," said the southern sheriff to the rich cotton- planter, **to tell you, seh, that your son put a thirty-two calibre bullet into a cullud preacheh, just between his eyes, seh, yesterda immediately afteh chuhch.” “My, my !" said the planter in a tone of keen annoyance. + The young jackanapes! I'll chide him. But he always was a scatter- brain.” WHY SHE LOVES HIM. She—" Which would you rather lose, Jack—me or my mone He— You, sweetheart.” She—" Oh, Jack!" He—«But I would. Because, don't you see, dearest, if I lost you I would have the money to offer large rewards for your recovery and get you back again.” She—* Dear Jack !" MUST DO AS THE OTHERS DO. Howell— You don't seem very happy over your promotion to be cashier of your bank.” Powell— Well, you see, I have always been an honest man, but I suppose I must live up to the tradition.” HIS CAUSE ENTIRELY JUST. oe HY do you want a divorce ?” the judge asked. «Because I can’t look at my wife without being tempted to commit suicide or murder.” “What brought about this state of mind ?” She put moth- balls in my cigar-pock- et “Petition granted.” THE SPIDER AND THE FLIES. Mr. Srioer—"'They must be fierce housekeepers around here when they leave all the food on ‘he rugs."" VACATION IN A CITY CELLAR. (With apologies to the Family Doctor, the late Messrs. 0. Khayyam, W. M. Thackeray, R. Heber, and others.) TIS but a cellar—let him smile who will— An humble excavation in the mould, Crudely contrived and walled with no great skill ; White-washed, a load of kindling in its hold. Lowly it seems and commonplace. Ah, yet So, too, the mine where hide the golden heaps ; And here, secure from summer fume and fret, T revel in the damp and restful deeps. ‘There is the chair, the worn veranda chair, That spreads its arms inviting out to me ‘There waits the well-browned corn-cob pipe, and there Tobacco in a flower-pot I see. A book of verses underneath the house, A cool, calm place to loaf and dream and puff. Away with Pullman car and hot carouse! Sweet cellar, thou art paradise enough. Some for the glarings of the beach and some Sigh for blue hills where naught but man is blue. Ab, let the torrid tourist go or come ; This cellar for my holiday shall do. Prate not to me of nature. Nearer ground Am I than any man with rod or gun. Here will I bide, serene within this bound, In the dread days when it is ninety-one.* Lm. Ronnies, + Out of doors. COOKED THE MEAT THREE HOURS. Mistress—« Jenny, this meat is not done. I don’t believe you cooked it for three hours, as I told you.” Jenny—Yas'm; I did, I cooked it from eight till ten.” Mistress—* That's only two hours.” Jenny—« Why, no'm ; dat’s t'ree hours—eight, nine an’ ten.” HIGH ART. “ Her talents are of a high order for one so absurdly young.""— Newspaper art note, comicbooks.com