Judge — December 1887 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

CHRISTMAS JUDGE <i & TOO MUCH FOR HIM. (Miss Sheepson has captured young Beeckman at Mt. Desert, and he is making his first city call, Miss SHEEPSON (producing family album)—' Mr. BEECKMAN —“ Shall I meet all these people?” Mrs. SuEerson (ércating in)—* Why, certainly, Arthur.” 's Uncle Caleb, and that's his wife, and that's Cousin Elwood, and those are his brothers-in-law.” Mr. BeeckMan (hacking out of the room)—* Clarice, all is over between us!” THE JUKE'S RETURN. A CHRISTMAS STORY WITH A CHRIS Sir,” said this man, in a musical voice and with an apparently unconscious appreciation of the delights of correct grammar and elocution, “if you will observe me carefully you will find that my outward appearance is not enticing, but I do assure you I am not what I seem.” “T should hope so,” said Farmer Graham. suddenly dropping the spoon with which he had been conveying bread and milk to his eager mouth—for it was a Summer evening along toward the Fall, and he was hard at work at the evening lunch which precedes the g o'clock bed-time of the tired agriculturist. “I should hope not, my son. Take a seat on the porch and watch the early stars till I come out and join you. I am unusually fatigued, and hence this indulgence. If you have a pipe or a cigar, smoke the same until i come.” “Has it ever occurred to you,” said the stranger, still with the same elocutionary _ excellence, “that a man in my style of clothes is not, as a general thing, a favorite of the gods, and perhaps there may be a stomachic vacuum within his rags? Good sir, look at those untoed bgots, this dilapidated hat, these trousers that first be- longed apparently to the oldest inhabitant, this soiled shirt, this attenuated vest, and this shock- ingly bad coat. "Does it not occur to you that something in the nature of consolation would be appropri- ate to this, if I may so say—this truly social occasion?” “Forgive me sir,” said the far- mer, with some agitation of voice, “but I cannot talk. See!” and he “1 do assure you I am not what I seem.” MAS PLOT. lifted the spoon, filled with the luscious excellence—‘see, sir! 1 am busy. Take a seat outside and wait for me. We will then converse until it is time for me to go to bed.” “Well,” said the stranger, sighing, and with a look of disap- pointment, for outside there was no easy consolation, “ there's one comfort: I never did care much for bread and milk anyhow. They were created mostly for children. I will contain myself as well asI can. There isn’t much to contain, if I remember rightly, and it’s no great job.” ‘The stars came out thick and fast as he sat there. The cows had been milked some hours previous, and were leisurely chew- ing, and as leisurely blinking their large eyes. The farm dog * came up to him with suspicious look, and snufting at his rags went pitifully away. Some sheep- bells sent their music to him from the close-cropped pasture down by the woods. A sweet peace feil upon him as the scents of cut grass and dried clover and blown thistle came to him, along with slight suggestions of cara- way, and roses the leaves of which had been blown four ways. He would have slept. but— “Reuben,” came to his ears in a low, calm voice. “I must have seen you by the light of the fire- flies. 1 didn’t know you were here, but something led me to you. How is your ma?” “Young lady,” said the stranger, in alow, mellow, softly modulated tone, “there is some mistake! Pray do not be startled; do not go. Rathercome closer that I may speak to you. It is long since I comicbooks.com