Judge, 1888-12 · page 22 of 51
Judge — December 1888 — page 22: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains nostalgic and humorous Christmas content from Judge magazine. **"Christmas Wild Turkey"** (by Stanley Waterloo) is a sentimental poem about hunting wild turkeys as boys in December woods, contrasted with dining at an adult club. The narrative celebrates youthful vigor and adventure—the excitement of the hunt, physical exertion, and appetite—against the dulled pleasures of middle age, where even the finest meal cannot recapture that intensity. **"Dearer With Age"** is a brief joke playing on the double meaning of "dear": Jack's overcoat becomes emotionally precious *and* financially burdensome, as he's paying 18% interest just to wear it (suggesting a pawn shop or similar arrangement). The humor lies in poverty masked as sentiment. **"Hardly Available"** offers a gentle joke about an oversized gift—Miss Snyder's ill-fitting slippers create awkward social obligation: Merritt must pretend gratitude for something useless. All three items emphasize aging, nostalgia, and financial or physical diminishment during the holiday season—themes likely resonating with Judge's middle-class readership.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CHRISTMAS JUDGE iS ACK, do you remember that day in December, Snow-clouded and drizzling and murky, When, through woods fairly reeking with mist, we went seeking The wild turkey ? Tame turkeys were plenty ; the barnyard held twenty Fat fellows that same winter morning, But aught save the stranger, the mast-flavored ranger, We were scorning. In a glade wood surrounded, on every side bounded From edge of the meadow, deep into the shadow By pines, we stood, each a tired hobbler, Of forests, a single track trended ; When, sudden! ulted, from eyrie exalted, Miles we followed, through reaches of oak ash and beeches, he wild gobbler ! Till it ended. How the boyish blood bounded when overhead sounded Strong wings, the air cleaving asunder ! Though hope it seemed dooming, that strident out- booming, ‘Like the thunder! Boys seize chances lightly; the rifles lashed brightly, Like whip-lashes cracking together ; Nextinstant we noted where downward there floated Just a feather ! Hit! Twixt trees the glade walling plunged, noisily falling, Something dark! How we yelled ! which had shot him? Through the bare branches dashing, to earth he came cras! ng Ve'd got him ! How we tore through the bushes, what fallingsand pushes, Tired muscles new strength seemed to borrow ! How we toiled homeward proudly and planned and talked loudly Of the morrow ! And, next day, what a dinner! ne'er turkey was thinner Though our stomachs we pickle with sauces to tickle Or tougher, but that didn't matter ; A freakish digestion’s odd humors, We were bigoted—loyal unto the bird royal There is naught like the hunger which come to the younger On the platter ! Food-consumers. At the club to-day, dining—and cautiously wining— There is nothing can bring us the young blood was in us; Much I thought of the dinners I'd eaten : We are veterans, observant and knowing ; Each, save that, in its savor, its exquisite flavor Life has made us two wiser, but no appetizer Could be beaten. Matches growing ! Ah! ‘was life! You remember that day in December, Snow-clouded and drizzling and murky, When, through woods fairly reeking with mist, we went seeking The wild turkey? STANLEY WATERLOO. DEARER WITH AGE. “ You seem to have a strong attachment for that old overcoat,” said Crabley, as they walked through the snow towards the restaurant where they were to take their Christmas dinner. “Yes,” replied Jack; “It grows dearer and dearer to me the more I wear it. Only last month I had to pay eighteen per cent. interest to get a chance to wear it.” HARDLY AVAILABLE. “I know I ought to be thankful to Miss Snyder,” said Merritt, “ but I don't see how I can be. “ How's that ?” asked Cobwigger. “Why,” returned Merritt, “she made me a pair of slippers that are several times too large.” comicbooks.com