Judge — August 18, 1906 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

“Foolish dog! ‘THE HONEST MAN, HEN the stranger with grass germs in his tresses was shown the last room back on the second floor of the Punktown hostelry and saw what sort of a stall he was to be bedded down in for the night, he bucked vigorously and said in the most offensive manner he could summon, “Look at that chair! Liable to fall down even if | hang my shirt on it. The wash-pitcher is fatally cracked, and the bow! has a scallop as big as a sum- mer squash. The carpet is full of holes and dir and so much quicksilver has been rubbed off the back of the looking- glass, that I look as if I had the small-pox. The cover on. the wash- stand has been on there for two long, hard, busy, dirty years, and the bed looks like a swaybacked horse with a thin blanket over it. If I were to try to sleep on that bed I would arise in the morning looking like a waffle. The wall- paper is off in large patches—in fact, it is off in a bunch, The ceiling is cracked, and a yard or so of plastering is liable to fall and smother me in the landslide at any ie moment, That table is really only gait a one-night stand, and you could- n't write on it if you had two men standing and holding it.” By this time the porter was very tired and angry, so he cried out in his vexation, “That's right—kick, kick ! But I'll bet a big dollar you're not used to any better than this at home.” “Young man," said the stranger in Punktown, ** your bet is begging for takers. Your prop- sition is too much of a cinch to bet on. Things at home are as bad as this, if not worse. But what does a man go away from THE BATHERS. | suppose he thinks, from our bathing-suits, that we really mean to go in the water.” home for if not for a change of scene? I hoped I would find something comfortable and clean, and perhaps even elegant, at a hotel.” Moved to tears of compassion by reason of the man’s honesty, the porter surreptitiously escorted him to Parlor A, where things were much better because the wash-pitcher had a smaller crack in it, and there was one upholstered chair. STRICKLAND W. GILLILAN, DRAWING THE LINE. ‘+ FLERE, my dear,” said the husband, producing a roll of bills; “here are forty dollars I won playing poker over at Brown's last night. You may have itto buy that dress you wanted.” Reluctantly the conscientious wife took the money, then said with an expression of rigid rectitude, “+I simply shudder at the thought of using money gained in such away. Henry, promise me that after you have won enough for me to buy the hat to go with the dress you will never again touch those aw- ful cards. I don’t want my husband to become a gambler.” WHO'S GOING TO GET HURT IN THIS DUEL? Mr. Hirro—‘* You don't want to get so far off that | can't bent A Mr. Monx—" No; and | don’t want to get so near that you'll ‘on me, elther.”” comicbooks.com