Judge — December 6, 1890 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

CHRISTMAS JUDGE with just a few work-d: one for each of what useter be hollerdays—see ?” "Yes, and what do you do then?” Do? Oh, we don't do nuthin’; but the gang works for us, and we laugh to watch ‘em and to think we don't have to.” “And what is the gang ?” “Oh, some noodles as thought the world was good enough as it was, and some that didn’t get up in time, like ‘The what were you com- ing out of the store for, if you don’t have to work? You used to kick like fury because you had to work and sleep there.” “In course,” said Trotboy, blusteringly; **1 didn’t want to BOHEMIA IN THE DRAWING-ROOM. Diack —"' Don't those good, old college songs electrify you 2” Miss ARLINGTON —" Well, I'm free to say that that one, at least, shocks me.” when I had to, but now I ain't got to, I just as lieve’s not—see 2” “And what do you knaves all do Do? Don't do nothin’, only what we wants ter.” ‘And you said to-day was "—— “Oh,” said Trotboy, wearily, “I don’t remember what I said, It’s all the days as useter be hollerday chunked in together; and so's most all the days, I said, and you can call ‘em what you likes. “But why do you wear such a curious combination of cos- tumes ?” asked Wink, as he gazed at Trotboy’s trousers, with one linen leg and one woolen leg, at the slipper on one foot and the overshoe on the other, at the one bare hand and the one mittened one, at the summer flannel shirt and the overcoat, at the fan and the worsted muffler. “Well,” said Trotboy, shifting to the other foot, as if his load zvas heavy, “you see the weather man mixes up the weathers for all the seasons, to match the hollerdays, and us knave: to be prepared for his weathership.” Whizz! bang! puff! whew! snort! came from as many different directions, and a bitter cold wave, a furious hot blast, a ckers, a hod of coal, a chunk of ice, and a big Christmas tree, loaded with Decoration day wreaths, toy pistols, live A CHRISTMAS TABLEAU. of tableau committee) —"* Whom shall we get to do Joan of Arc? Miss Nixie has decided to go to Newport to-morrow.” Miss Fané—" Why, I'm sure there's as good-looking girls as she in our church.” Miss Prerryrer—"'Oh, it isn't that; it doesn't require such a very handsome girl, Why, Miss Fané—why can’t you do it?” turkeys, miniature dudes in New Year's day costumes, etc., etc., all banged up against Wink at once. “Here comes the fantastics; now for the day's fun,” said Trot- boy; but it struck Wink that his voice sounded awfully tired, and that his eyes didn’t dance a bit as they used to, when he got off at 4 p.m. Saturdays, from Goodem & Badem’s store. . . . . . . . . “Tsay, Wink, old chap, merry Christmas! Wake up, sleepy-head, and see what you've got. Hello! Here's ten dollars apiece for us from jolly old Goodem, and—ha! ha! ha!—a counteracting tract from bilious, old Badem, marked ‘To My Book-keepers,’ on ‘Money the Root of Most Evil.’ Here’s a big plate of fruit and nuts from our landlady, and—by Jove! old boy, a great, big box from Waybackville, with ‘The comp’s of the season, from the Sisters of Our Brothers,” = ROW IN BRADY'S ALI chock full of cakes, and pies, and chickens, and jelly, and everything __ Mrs. Neery—"" Me daughter Rosie got a phropose from Danny Doogan, last else that's eatable. I say, Wink, hurrah for Santa Claus! If I'm a night. day over twelve years old I'm ready to die of old age!” Wink was awake this time, and no mistake. Then the great “hollerday ” boom must have been a nightmare. And just before that, comicbooks.com