Judge — December 1887 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

CHRISTMAS JUDGE Oring a-low, O ri Above the towns and villages, th / Wy loud, O rhyming Xmas bells, leys and the dels; ©, the mystery and whispering, and the popping out of sight, The rolling up of bundles and the tying of, them tight ; And the craning of the children’s necks, and prying all about, Into holes where, if you puta pin, you couldn't pull it out! And finally the giving of the dolls and drums and rings With heraldings of blessedness and every sort of glee From the stockings by the chimney to the starry Xmas tree; For you shout the birth of Happiness, and toll the knell of Care, So ring a-loft, O jolly bells, upon the frosty air! There’s the cake within the oven, and the candy set to cool, And the raisins and the spices, and the holiday from school ; ‘There's the doughty old Plum-Pudding with his raisin-freckled face, And as for nuts and oranges they fairly fill the place. If you tiptoe in the pantry when there's not a soul about, You're sure to get a cake or nut, without a single doubt! Then the present little Bennie gives Papa from Baby store, He has hoarded up his pennies, why, for near a year and more ! And how Papa must prize it, though you need not be obtuse To see "twill never meet the claim of beauty or of use, Yet many things are homely in the life we all must live So ring a-low and ring a-loud, O chiming Xmas bells, And bear goodwill and laughter on your undu lating swell As the motion of the ocean bears a wave upon its way, To forever curve and hollow till Eternity’s decay. So ring a-low and ring a-loud, you merry Xmas bells, Dear, it sends your heart a-thumping just to think about the things! they give. That are beautiful and useful in the happiness For many a tale of God and your glorious music tells, Dieu Morgan. Smith, A LEAP-YEAR ROMANCE. The thirty-first of December, eighteen hundred and eighty- seven, had come. Why the last night of the year affects people more than any other night it is hard to say, but it does, and on this night Reginald de Brokaw was even more affected than common. Perhaps the thought that there was one more day in the coming year made him sad. It might have been that the heart of the man of nearly forty was stirred at the prospect of being able to celebrate his tenth birthday on the zgth of the next February, or the remembrance of a slip of paper on which was written over his autograph, “On January 2, 1888, I promis to pay, etc.,”. weighed upon his soul; at any rate he was sad. He was seated opposite a fair maiden of eight and thirty winters. A maiden at that age is usually called fair, for she has then arrived ata fair age, neither young nor old. Eighteen years before, on New Year's day, Reginald de Brokaw had proposed to the reigning belle, Margaret Jones, and had been refused. Every New Year's day after that he had repeated the performance with a like result, until, three years before, he had ceased. Now they’ waited in peaceful silence for the New Year's birth, their minds busy with different thoughts. He was wondering whether or not he would for the last time offer himself to the girl before him, and she was thinking how long it took for eighty-seven to make way for the glorious Leap-Year when she would take advantage of her prerogative and ask him to marry her. One-two-three-four-five— six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve (this is done to prolong I am writing on space) ratig out the bell ald,” she whispered, her voice trembling in the intensity of her emotion, “Reginald, do you—do you lo—"_A ring at the door and a messenger left a telegram for Reginald de Brokaw. Tearing it open, he read : “ Reginald, wilt thou be mine?” Tawait thy answer. Come to me.—C. M.” Reginald arose,“ Margaret,” he said, tenderly, “it is too late. I have already received a proposal, and have accepted,” and he left her alone in her misery. This will nof be continued in our next. It is but a simple tale, truly pathetic, and a warning to fair maidens who wait for the eventful year of Leap. The bad boy can become very good around Christmas time. The happy boy with the new sled often hurts himself, The brightest things soon fade in this world. There are no roots to the Christmas tree. comicbooks.com