Judge — November 18, 1905 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

THE BOOK-AGENT AND THE TOY BALLOONS. Pinhook, November 15th. ‘THERE was trouble in the Bronson Hotel last night. An itinerant book-agent by the name of Billings stopped at the place and was put into a double-bedded room, with notice that some one else might take the other bed. He retired early, and soon after he had done so an Italian bal- loon-man, with a large bun- dle of inflated bal- loons, came to the hostelry for the night and was given the vacant bed in the room already occupied by Billings. He tied the strings of the bal- loons to the handle of his to keep them down and then retired. Billings had a dog with him, and the animal must have got up in the night some time and gnawed the strings, for the ethereal toys all got away and began dancing about the room, swaying lightly to and fro as they were driven hither and thither by breezes that came in through the wire screens covering the two open windows. Some of them floated about and rubbed their cool, soft sides against the cheek of the sleeping book- agent, He stirred uneasily in his slumber, murmured and brushed the objects away; but they came again and wakened him, and he reached out his hand and touched their gossamer surfaces, and felt them move quickly and lightly out of his reach again. He opened his eyes then with a start, and a thrill of ghostly horror ran down his spinal cord as he saw in the dim moonlight that the room was filled with lightly-dancing objects that looked to him like the round faces of the ghosts of children. He gave a yell that would have roused the dead if there had been any there to hear, and, leaping to the floor with a mighty bound, he fought his way hither and thither, beating with his hands and kicking with his feet, through the ghostly mob, and hunting in vain, in his confusion, for the door, that seemed to him to have vanished entirely. The Italian, too, was awake, but taking no part in the affair, He was buried far beneath the bed-clothes, listening rubber lise WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. Mrs. Rarrerty—"' Do Ol know yer father, is it? Shure! afore he wor married, an’ Oi moight hov bin yer mother if Oi'd said th’ wur-rd."" to the yells and plunging of his room-mate, and praying hard and fast in modern Latin that he might escape whatever it was that threatened him. The hotel people were afoot also and grouped about the door, but no one had the hardihood to open it and discover what was going ‘on inside; and there is no tell- ing what might not have hap- pened if Billings, in his raving around, had not chanced to catch hold of and violently pull the rope that opened a skylight in the ceiling, whereupon a draught of air that came in the windows with a rush carried every one of Billings’s ghosts up and far away into the night. He calmed down then and opened the door. The Italian came out from under the bed- clothes and explanations fol- lowed. Billings paid the Ital- ian for the balloons. CRUELTY TO POULTRY. THE woman with the short hair and severe steel spec- tacles walked determinedly into the office of a down-town cold-storage warehouse. “Sir,” she said after a preliminary gesture with a bulky green umbrella, + Icame here in the interest of dumb animals—to save them from unnecessary cruelty.” “+ But, madam,” protested the manager, there is absolutely no See; there are thousands of ~B:cony KILVERT Oi knew yer father animal life in here to be maltreated. cases of eggs in cold storage here.” “Well, some one told me that there was cruelty to animals in here,” persisted the crusader. +1 understand that these are cold- storage eggs, preserved for six months or more in a frigid atmosphere below zero. Now, young man, could you swear that none of these eggs contain young chicks? “ Why—er—some of them may contain chickens, but ". “That will do!" snapped the crusader.‘ You see that every one of those young chickens is provided with a warm overcoat and a pair rubbers in this cold storage or you will hear from me very soon.” The manager promised. BETWEEN HALVES. Centerush?"* Fritno—" How's the game going. the but "On but what's the score?" Gee whizz! I don't know."* Cunreru: Why, | only killed one guy and bit another one’s ear off, and" - comicbooks.com