Judge — December 1889 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

TIME TO STOP, ropose the health of the ladies. Waiter, fill Mr. Brimsoe's glass.” Fetter not, sir. For th’ last tia minutes he's been tryin’ to light a plece of Toast-MASTER—‘‘ Gentlemen, allow me to * Axin’ your pardon, I think I'd maccaroni, thinkin’ it’s a cigarette, sir.” JIM’S WIDDER. ] KNOWED Jim from a little skite not knee-high toa She liked to hyear me talk of Jim, but bein's he was dead duck, I dropped him ‘long in Chris'mus times, an’ used myse'f An’ man er boy a meaner scamp I ‘low I never struck ; instead, Yit when he died his wife took on like she would kill I told her thet since mother died my life was mighty drear, herse'f, An’ nary sock of mine hed seed a darn in ‘most a year! An’ all the neighbors said that she was grievin’ plumb to deaf, I ‘lowed it made me crawl to think that thar was no one nigh To much as stir a mustard draught if T was like to die ; An’ bein’ subjeck to the chills, I says it made me sick To know thar worn’t a soul about to even heat a brick ! She sighed at thet, Jim's widder did, an’ said she wisht that Jim Could tell how many bags of hops hed been clapped I don’t know how it happened, but arter Jim was gone I kep’ a studyin’ ‘bout his wife abidin’ all alone, Without a soul to harry her, a-bein’s he hed died, An’ ev'ry time I passed the house I kind-uh glimpsed inside. I disremember how it was, along in fall-time, thet I got to droppin’ in o' nights to pass the news an’ set An’ gass about the days when me an’ Jim was boys together, An’ used to go coon-huntin’ in jest sech frosty weather, ‘onto him, She ‘lowed a catfish on dry land felt bout as mean as her ‘When thar was no one sick around to be a-doin’ fer. An’ then we sot awhile, an’ then we ketched each other's eye, An’ then a word er two was passed, an’ arter thet, says I, ‘We laid our plans in sech a shape as makes it look like Jim, Come Chris'mus times next year, won't hey no widder mournin’ him! eva witpex McGLASSON. A RELIEF FOR HIS MIND. Carolyn Bitters—"1 suppose, Mr. Sleigh- bells, that you are in thorough sympathy with the spirit of the Christmas holiday ?” Charles J. Sleighbells —" Oh, yes, indeed, Miss Bitters ; I do enjoy Christmas.” Carolyn Bitters —* What, in your mind, is the chief charm of the day ?” Charles J. Sleig hbells—" That I can secure a day off from the office without having to tell my employer that another of my family is dead.” SCARED AWAY. 6¢ ] DECLARE, I believe the present generation of men are losing all chiv- alry and sentiment,” exclaimed a maiden of forty summers at the Christmas ball. “Why do you say that, Miss Gaunt?” asked a fresh society bud. “Because I've been standing under the mistletoe for the last hour and not a single man came near me.” NOTHING LIKE AN EXCUSE. z Mr. Kezrum—'* fli, thar, uncle ! What ‘r you doin’ ‘round that coop 7” Unciz Rasiter—“'Fo' d’ Lawd, sah, I's a preyin’, ‘deed I is, sah! Ebery time I sees a hen-coop, I's suah t' be took wiv a fit ob preyin’, en T cain’t help it.” ahs comicbooks.com