Judge — October 6, 1906 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

OCTOBER. CTOBER blows her merry gale Along the wooded hill, And flowerets droop all wan and pale Beside each frozen rill. O The brown leaf flies, a tiny wing, At sport of madcap mirth, Then falls with gentle murmuring, To garb the dying earth. The bird-note dies upon the air, And from each forest dell Comes breath of incense and of prayer To bless the year’s farewell. LURANA W, SHELDON. A FLY-PAPER FANCY. HE man with a shiny’pate sat contem- plating most cheerfully a sheet of fly- paper placed where it was doing yeoman service in the capture of its natural enemy. The man watched the struggles of the cap- tives, rubbing his hands and his head and chuckling unctuously. With every new captive he laughed in fiendish glee. “That's right,” he gurgled joyously to the helpless, fluttering flies; ++now you're getting what you deserve. You thought that nice, smooth surface was my head, didn’t you? You buzzed brutally over it and then settled down to a steady diet of human blood, didn’t you? But you didn’t get it, did you? Oh, no; you didn’t get it. Fly-paper ain't a bald head, no matter if it does shine and look tempting. And human blood doesn’t stick like that shiny stuff does, either. No, no, Mr. Fly. You're up against a totally different proposition, and you're so tight up against it that you won't get away again. ‘Stick it out, old chap. Perseverance is a good Buzz and break your darn neck if you want to, and pull I'm not butting in. This is no mix of MAUDE EDNA MALL, TH! We sing the praise of You have no “canny thing. your legs out by the roots. I'm not brushing you off as I would if you had found what mine, you were looking for. Oh, no; I'm not slapping at you and swearing. I'm taking things easy and seeing you have the time of your life. That's right, dab down on it and get off again, only to come back and stick for good. That's the way you do when you light on my head and I shoo you away. But you don't care for me, do you? You come right back again worse than ever and pump your blamed bill right into me. But you don’t do it that way to the fly-paper, do you? Fly-paper is so different. When you give that a little tap and are off again to come back, when you think your victim hopes you have departed for good, you don’t get away so p. d.q., do you? You confounded, torturing old Indian, you're getting what's coming to you and I'm feeling better. By gravy ! it's beautiful to watch you writhe and twist and lick your paws and bang your wings around. Keep it up, old chap; keep it up. That's the way you would do if you were on my bald head, only you would go home happy when your revelry was over. But you don't go home now, do you? No, siree ; you've come to stay and I hope you will. There's nothing like sticking to a thing. Good for you! Tell all your friends to come, for | want the whole bunch of you. ‘There's an- other one—two more—and they are sticking to the pa- per like a sick kitten to a hot brick. Oh, say, how good my head feels when I can see the way you are making mistakes! Now keep right at it. Keep busy. Tl be back after a while and look at you some more. I'm going off now to have a nice, quiet, flyless nap. See?" Farmer— WJ. LAMPTON. ‘Tue Bor. JUDGE'S FAVORITES. In muck-rake days, when most things “'spile,"" At all. RED REVENGE, $40 you spurn meh!" he cries in wrath- ful woe. But I shall have my revenge!” “Ha, maiden. + You may laugh now, but wait! In the four years | have known you, you have given me six photographs of yourself, Each one of these I shall have enlarged by the cheap crayon process and presented to your various friends and relatives !" Leaving the frightened girl in a swoon the cruel swain departs with the melo- dramatic tread of one who will stop at nothing. ha!” laughs the heartless FOR HER. SOYVHAT I want,” pants the comic- opera star who had acquired a superabundance of flesh, “what I want is a vehicle for the proper display of my per- sonality. I don't want any ordinary "— No, Miss Fatyette,” interposes the playwright. «You don’t want any ordi- nary vehicle. How would an automobile truck do, in these days of auto-drama?” 1 VAUDEVILLE PAVORITE. the taintless smile, Miss Hall. You've got the goods, you're labeled true, ee amie HEN the wolf is at the door the stork generally manages to dodge him. DAN DEMPSEY’S WILL. D** DEMPSEY was dyin’; his fri'nds and relations Fs Wor’ gathered around him wid tears in their eyes. ‘Vhe priest kem an’ gave him the lahst ministhrations, Preparin’ his sow! for home in the skies. “ Ochone !"" Dan bewailed, ‘*soon me name will be Dinnis ; O’er me corpse all the b'ys will be dhrinkin’ their fil Would wan av yez mind callin’ Lawyer McGinnis? ‘Tis meself that 'ud be afther makin’ a will.” McGinnis kem in wid his pens, ink an’ paper— “Now, make yer lahst teshtimint, Dempsey,” says he. “Tin thousan’ I lave to me widdy, to kape her, Or, if she gets marrid, to make Ireland free. I've a thousan’ besides—so give Patsy six hundhred, Three hundhred an’ fifty I'll lave sisther Kate— that’s all.”” Sure the counselor sat there an’ wondhered: “ What about tlother fifty—the will ’s not complate.”* “Oh, that,” said Dan Dempsey ; ‘now, how will I spend it? ‘Tis a shmall sum o' money—between you an’ me.” “Arrah, man," spoke McGinnis, “yer life is soun inded ; Let it go to the b'ys fer a taste av a spree.” “All right; there's no nade fer to ax if they want it At h'istin’ the bottle there’s none av thim slack ; But they'll dhrink it while I'm on me way to be planted, For I won't be along on the road comin’ back." owen PuEina, THE GAMELESS AMATEUR. Hey, you! There ain't no shootin’ here!"’ “They ain't, ain't they? Say, are you deaf?” comicbooks.com