Judge — November 11, 1911 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

THE SAME OLD MOON. A, A Unheeded Warnings. Mary Ellen's Pa Tells Jake Some Things Which He May Expect from a Matrimonial Alliance. AKE’S b’en courtin’ Mary Ellen ev’ry Sunday after tea "Most a year now. T’other day he come, an’ ’e says t’ me, says ’e, “Mister Dunn, your daughter Mary’s jest the apple o’ my eye, An’ I've come t’ ask ’er of ye."” Then I says t’ him, says I, “So ye want my Mary Ellen? Well, thet’s right ’nough, I suppose, Fer you're called as fine a feller as all roun’ this section knows. An’ Tain’t the least objection; but I'll take the time to-day, Bein’ as I'm older’n you be, jest t’ say my little say. ‘*Ye don’t know each other. Sho, now! don’t flash up an’ say ye do! ’Tain’t in reason thet ye should know, in best clo’es an’ manners, too— You the slickest youngster goin’, an’ the little gal, by ging! With 'er furbelows an’ ribbins, purty nigh the perfect thing. “How ye goin’ t’ stan’ it, sonny, when she’s in 'er workin’ duds, An’, when things don’t go t’ suit ’er, manners all air in the suds? Courtin’ ways an’ courtin’ dressin’ is as fine as fine can be, But ye've got t’ live together ‘fore ye know each other—see? “Can ye stan’ it t’ be led roun’ by a woman's apern-string? It don’t seem now thet ye’ll hev to? Well, ye surely will, by ging! Mary Ellen’s like ’er mother, who, though nicer never trod, Is a female who has hiked me all aroun’ this bloomin’ sod. “It’s a mighty proposition when two folks stan’ up an’ say They will jine fer wuss ’r better, an’ t’ hev an’ hold alway. D’ ye s’pose ye’ll love ’s ye now do, an’ per’aps a trifle more, When, mebbe, Mary waddles or she wakes ye with a snore? “‘What’s thet? I talk discouragin’? Well, it’s possible I do; But I thought I ought t’ tell ye what you're likely comin’ to.’” But, land sakes! it made no diff'rence, fer, near the last o’ spring, They was married—an’ who blames ’em? Not the best gal’s pa, by ging! —N. B Ripley. The Root of the “Evil.” Lover—‘‘Darling, I am the sole heir of a rich uncle. All this wealth I lay at your feet. Will you marry me?” The girl—‘‘No, Archie. But tell your uncle I'll consider such—er—a proposal from him.’’ Public Spirit Run Riot. “Our LITTLE town o’ Blueberry- ville is right up to date an’ about as progressive an’ public-speerited as any town in the State,’’ said Zedekiah Brush, as he drove over the hills with the summer boarder. “Fact is, some of us think the selec’- men use the tax money a little too freely keepin’ pace with the speerit of progress that seems to be in the air nowadays. Here, in the last year, the town hall has had a new roof, an’ a new hoss shed has been built around the church, an’ a new handle put in the town pump, an’ a bridge costin’ most two hundred dollars has been built over Plum Crick. The town clock has been put in repair ata cost of twelve dollars an’ sixty cents, an’ they’ve put three dozen new books in the town liberry, an’ now they are talk- in’ of offerin’ a firm a bonus 0’ two hundred dollars to start a pickle factory in the town. Once a lot o’ selec’men git the progressive fever, an’ the tax money flies. Public speerit is all right, but us taxpayers has to foot the bills when it runs riot the way it does here in our town.”” Wuen in a hurry, go slow. comicbooks.com