Judge — December 28, 1889 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE PUBLISHED ONCE A WEEK. Publisher + W. J. Aree Art Department ~~ Baxxwaxo Girtass. Editor". = 1M. Geecony. TERMS TO SUBSCRIBERS. UNITED STATES AND CANADA, IN ADVANCE. One one year,or sa numbers - $5.07 One copy, six months, or 26 numbers - "3-90 One copy: for sy weeks = == ‘Single copies, 10 cents cach. FOREIGN SUBSCRIPTIONS—To all for- len countries in the postal union, $6 @ year. Tue Jupoce PuBLisHino Company (Jupcr Burpin' Cor. Fifth Ave. and 16th St, New York. rantce advertisers fal paper public The Juvae ts for sale at Brenta 400 Strand, London larger circulation at cheaper rates than any other 17 Avenue de COpera, Parit, and at Brentane's, PROVERD—Money makes the fir go THE COURT of uncommon ple Judge Bookstaver's. ILAN will abandon Servia; whereat Servi as a flow of laughter. ief is as pronounced ‘HE DEFE} in the Cronin case appeared to think that the doctor was killed at Chickamauga. HE RIGHT to secede is not granted, it is thought, by the truly foreign government which has adopted Jefferson Davis. ene CALVIN 5. BRICE will buy the Ohio senator- ship if he van. Ab, what an argument that is against mo- nopolies and trusts! T IS NOT pleasant to con- template a thin and feeble pocket-book ; but it may be worn as a badge of honor after the Christmas holidays. see IVER JOHNSON didn’t have as imposing a fune- ral as Jefferson Davis; but he probably went through the pearly gates without a word of questioning. )NOTHER POEM—Grove and Dave went up the hill to get a pail of water; Grove fell down and broke his crown, and Dave came tumbling after, OULD) and say something about the danger of killing law: by electricity ? IT be well for Mr. Cockran to drop the murderers ¢ citizens sae HEY SAY in Ohio that McKinley would be a better man for gov- ernor than Foraker was, and there is food for thought in it if you happen to be hungry. ROBERT BROWNING being dead, Mr. Swinburne has a monopoly of word-puzzling; and if he ever gets tangled in his own he'll hang himself to death. HE LAST execution by gallows has taken place in this state, and the future historian will value highly the relics of a civilization partially typified by the uprights and cross-beam. HAPLAIN MILBURN is not so blind that he can't keep an eye out to the main chance; and as a sky pilot,” as somebody calls him, he never runs against any of the little stars. RS, HARRISON has been chided by a woman's temperance organ- ization for serving whisky-punch to the pan-American delegates. We have no doubt she is sorry for it, particularly as she never did it. THE BOY OF '89. “Shoot that pack, Santy! Why don't yer drop them fakes an’ bri some dead tips on th’ races an’ a few diagonal-cut cigarettes?” ANADA doesn’t want to be annexed; but if there were no possi- bility of annexation Canada would cry out that her cup of misery was running over. Canada is sweet, but coy, and wants to be caught and coerced apparently against her will. OUR WHITE-HOUSE SANTA CLAUS. HARRISON is hereby permitted to enjoy his Christmas dinner. He * has not escaped the injustice in criticism that is inevitable, particu- larly in the first year of a presidential term, but he is not more unfortunate in that respect than were all of his predecessors. He has met a good many delicate and dangerous questions in party politics, and has settled them manfully and as justly as any man might have done. He has written a strong message, and one that shows familiarity with all national questions of moment. He has a capable and honest cabinet, and his own honesty and capability are unquestioned, All of the local elections have not gone as he would have liked, but he is not to blame for that. The nine months of his administration have been satisfactory, and they will be found to have been the most trying months of his presidential experience. A merry Christmas, Benjamin Harrison—and keep right on doing the best you can. GOOD CHEER, GOOD CHEER! NCE in the year, as the Christmas time comes, a more tender welcome greets this holiday than any other. It lacks, happily, the bacchana- lian jocundity that echoes to the first footsteps of the new year, and waives the boisterous bell-ringing and cannon-booming that usher the July birth. day of the republic. There is a soft remembrance and love about it,a kindly pity and touch of helpfulness. Out of the dry and hard lines of daily struggle, out of the frozen crust of selfish toil, there is pushed the fragrant blossom of our common brotherhood. * One touch of nature Makes the whole world kin.” The bewildering wealth of the grand store-windows, the humble display of the more modest ones, are alike atmos- phered with the prospective pleasure of gifts. The faces of happy children we never saw and never will see beam through the interstices of the wonderful toys. Santa Claus is very rich, and Aladdin has surely rubbed his wonderful p. Even the little fellow who hugs himself into warmth, and the waif whose thin shawl wraps a touch of summer to her heart, are while looking possessors, and, peering through the barring crystal, walk amid the wealth of a childish Eden. If we are such stuff as dreams are made of, what matter is it if the lids be open or closed when we dream? Who of us has not climbed with Jack that wonderful bean-stalk? Who has not dropped a tear over the “ Babes in the Wood,” or been cast away with Robinson Crusoe and lived dreary years on the lonely sea-girt isle, or plunged with Sinbad the sailor into: the gem-paved depths of the extinct volcano, and risen again, lifted by the girth fastened to the wonderful bird, laden with un- told wealth? Who of us has not struggled with Christian through the “slough of Despond,” and passed the lions to the Castle Beautiful in that wonderful progress of the pilgrim? Are we not in fact made up of the molecules of other men’s dreams? Are the battles on the plains of Troy, the wanderings of Ulysses, the stories of Herodotus, or the ghosts of Alexander or Cassar or Charlemagne, of any other stuff than Prospero or Falstaft or Hamlet? Are the pilgrim fathers any more of a verity tl Leatherstocking? Where is the line between the real sea we sail and the we cannot touch? Christmas with its tender lesson comes to us as the link, not the divis- ion, between earth and heaven, It is the heart's rainbow resting its feet ‘on the common soil and arching into the blue. The humble Christian with winged feet walks up the path gilded with the glories of the Bethle- hem star, and the agnostic bows before the unseen sympathy that in a thousand ways, to childhood and age alike, gleams with the light of peace and good-will. Looking specially at the good-fortune of this people, all who hold feller round comicbooks.com