Judge — December 1889 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

CHRISTMAS ECHOES OF BY-GONE DAYS. ORICK,” said the king, as he handed the jesier a roll of good pi you no new joke for Christmas “Aye; marry, that I have,” the jester. “May your presents never grow less.” “Ha, ha!” roared the king, “that is new indeed ;” and so it was, dear reader, in the year 1617. SEE that nice mistletoe, a kiss for every berry and a hundred berries,” whispered Hugo de Bleondard to his lady-love. “Berry nice,” whispered the high-born damsel “PLEASE, your majesty, the Yule log walked away last night,” whispered a frightened slave to the African king, Bumbum, on the Christmas eve of 1711. “It was a boa- constrictor which we mistook for a log.” “So!” roared his nibs; “then use yonder traveler for the log; he will celebrate in grand style; and that was why the first explorer to that part of Africa never returned. “HORATIO,” remarked Hamlet on the ramparts of the castle on that memorable Christmas, “if Ophelia hangeth not up her stocking she gets no gift from me.” “Good Hamlet, economical forever!" chuckled his friend ; “thou savest the price of the gift, for thou knowest stockings have not been invented yet.” “Hist, disturb not the queen!” whispered an attendant at the door of Elizabeth's stud: “Ha, caitiff! and why an impatient stamp. “Because, my lord, she is busy dictating her autograph to the learned clerk—she will distribute the same on the morrow as her Christmas gift— and she desireth peace.” Whad's yo" Mr. 1 Wired Sir Walter Raleigh, with “ WHY all this funereal gloom about the castle on the eve of the blessed lay?" inquired the duke, impatiently My lord,” sobbed the steward, “ Victoria, our queen, has but to-day holy JUST BEFORE THE ENGAGEMENT. “* Whad jer wishin’ fo', Car'line?” n't right fer ter tell, but I wants a seal-skun sack pow’ful bad. wishin’ fer?” WINKS—"* I'se jes’ wishin’ d’ bone "Il brek on yo! side ob d’ handles !"" SANS SALON. Salesman (at plush-ware counter) —“A Christmas present for your wife, ch? Well, how would this handsome manicure set do? She ought to feel pleased with that, and I'm sure it would make a beautiful ornament for her boudoir. Possible purchaser —" Salesman —" Yes, sit. You are sure ?” learned that Santa Claus is a myth.” Possible purchaser —*Well, you are wrong; she has no boudoi CROWDING ON THE AGONY. ‘MR. PLANKINGTON—"' You have utterly crushed me by your refusal, Miss Bentinct ; but you will not refuse me the pleasure of one last waltz?” Miss Brxtixcr—"T don't mind one dance, but T can't conceive how it can be a pleasure to you.” comicbooks.com