Judge — April 14, 1906 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

MISS EARTH. EHOLD the Easter hat of Earth, With ostrich-plumes of cloud, And buckle of the sparkling sun— Gee! won't it make her proud? A FEW UPLIFTING REMARKS ON SPRING. PRING is with us once more, and the heart is glad. It was a long, severe winter, and the exposure was some- thing frightful; but now, glory be! that is all past, or near-past, and we have the almost joyous feeling again as if we were real people. Most of us have been in- vestigated, or else we have been investigating others, and the biting blasts pro and con have been very hard on the health; but, thanks to rugged constitutions, most of us have pulled through. Some fell through, it they did not pull through; but they got through, and that’s the main thing. The earth once more smiles with the beauty of all green and growing things, and congress is talking of adjournment, so that we have every reason to feel that the worst is over. the eye rests today some cheering sight rewards its effort to rest at that point, and from far-away Jolo to the remotest confines of Coney Island there is a lan- guorous note of expectancy, a dreamy, waiting hush, and just the merest hint of a ripening blush, as we look for the first bathing-suit to glide shiveringly but with firm tread across the glisten- ing, golden sands. The wide-embracing vault of blue now lifts itselt in azure magnificence on invisible columns of cobalt and erythrite, and a glorious sense of expense and reckless disregard of cost prevails on every hand. Down in the barnyard stands a beautiful hen palpitant, in feathers of chrysoprase and charcoal drifted with snow, and her song is of the eggs of Carrara whiteness or wheat-rust brown-which she has offered her owner with every show of effortless joy and unself- ish devotion to mankind. The hills (wherever there are hills) are now robed in garments of lustrous enchantment, and the farmer places salt-licks at convenient intervals in fields dotted with lowing kine. The modest dandelion lifts its head on the lawn, and the owner thereof whetteth the carving-knife, so that in due season he may hew said Wherever RIPPING down the centre aisle With thy dainty, fairy tread, How the brightness of thy smile Shames the twinkling lights o'erhead! How thy beauty, fresh and fair, And thy youthful, winsome grace Float like incense on the air, Cheering all the gloomy place! Easter maid with cheeks aglow, Eyes like shining stars above, é With thy soul as pure as snow, And thy heart o’erfilled with love; Rosebud of earth's garden fair, Easter lily, proud and free, Hear thy lover's ardent prayer— Blossom, dearest one, for me! LURANA W, SHELDON. = dandelion off at the root and utterly destroy it forever. Thus the pro- session of awakening loveliness moves across the earth in a pageant of unrivaled splendor, and the “«giddap” of the solitary plowman echoes o'er the smoking furrows of the meal. To the right of us, as we write, is a spreading glebe + for sale,” and to the left of us is another large, open section of the earth's surface which is not ours ; but nature is smiling on everything just the same as if everybody were good. Thus do we see how peculiar nature is in all her ways. We could almost wish we owned some of nature at this time, like the million aires, but the price is too extensive. In the richness of this glad Easter hour, however, some of nature's beauty spills over and we get the crumbs—and for this we are thankful. re almost glad. PAPA'S OPINION. Ethel—*1 showed papa one of your poems and he was delighted.” Scribbler—« Indeed said it was so bad he thought you'd probably he able to earn a living at something else.” AMATEUR DRAMATICS. Dora— How is it the play you gave was not so well attended as the one you gave a while ago?” Dolly— Well, you see, we went around and sold tickets to all our friends for the first performance, and—er— after that we had no friends,” PROOF POSITIVE. The detective— “This is a plain case of suicide.” The coroner— + How do you know 2” The detective— “Why, here in his hand is the bill for his wife's Easter hai THE great trouble with the genius is that he is still dreaming when the plain, ordinary mor- tal is up and doi things. comicbooks.com