Judge — December 27, 1890 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

THE JUDGE "S TOAST. (Kor Nmas eve.) HEN Xmas Gres are crackling bright ‘Where holly wreaths hang high, And children gather in their light To talk of good things nigh, ‘The Jevce will A bumper of brew a Xmas bowl, Kood cheer, While belfry-chimes a gay note toll To speed the Here's to the children's stockings hung In many homes to-night ; Here's to the Xmas carol sung Before the hearth-fire bright. God bless the little ones asleep, The babies eyes of blue That try to watch with drowsy peep ‘What Santa Claus will do. Here’s to the man who never laughs— ‘Who thinks a joke a bore ; Here's to the chap whose timely chaffs Make many a hearty roar. To grave and gay, to pretty girls With smiles like sunshine rays, And shimmering gol and nut-brown curls, parting year. To faithful friends forever dear, Good health with hearty grasp. To carping critics, far and near, Good luck and kindly clasp. ‘To those who smile with us to-night, To them that choose to frown, We'll tip the foaming goblet bright. And toast the wrinkles dow! The wine-drops shine like happy tears Upon the sparkling glass, Like joys that gem the hurrying years That come and quickly pass. Good luck ! Good health !—a pledge for all Who cluster in the blaze: May merry Xmas blessings fall Here's joy and happy And many Xmas days. KATE MASTERSON. THE HONORABLE Mr, Coots—"' Yas, yo" did ! z “Lemme up; 1 ain’ did nuffin’ nts (pressing down hard) —"* Vas, yo" dis —"" Whad’ I do? fole Sam Garr'son I wuz a hybrid Mx. Fexperson —'''Fo' d! lawd ! I said *high-bred.’" ALARMING. NSANITY must be alarmingly on the increase in New York city, as recent police reports record the fact that the federal enumerators have left two hundred thousand people out of their census. WOULDN'T TAKE A MEAN ADVANTAGE. S had got mixed up in a duel and had already taken his position and was for the signal to fire, when he suddenly noticed that his antagonist was more than aldermanic in his proportions. Feeling that this gave him an undue advantage, he whipped a piece of chalk from his pocket, rushed over to his oppo- rapidly tract cle somewhat the size of an ordinary human stomach and calied out to the seconds, “Gentlemen, take notice that if my ball strikes outside this mark it doesn’t count.” HEN-ROOST PHILOSOPHY. (Scene —Farm-yard, with hen-roost, etc. Time— Midnight. Young darkey on the inside of fence passing fowl over to old darkey on the outside with a filled Lag.) Deacon Burnside (of Brewster station) — Go slow, chile; doan’ you drap nuffin’ on dis “case we ‘spec's city-folks dis Krismus, an’ coons frum town nevah knows when t' quit stuffin’ der skins when you puts biled birds in frunt uv ‘em.” Youny Rube (disciple of the deacon) —“ Dis am de las’ chick on de roos’, uncle, an’ ef yo" fren’s frum de city doan’ swell up ‘nuff on dis load ob white meat den you'd bettah chuck in er lot o’ snow-balls fur dessart !” Deacon Burnside—* You pore chile; you doan’ know de joys ob ‘ligion. W'at yer heerd las’ Sabbat’ ‘bout it bein’ mo’ blessed t’ gib dent’ take doan’ ‘pear t’ hab tak'n er grip on yer interle Young Rube —1 doan’ kno" nuffin’ ‘bout interlek, but I nevah kno’d a city moke yit dat didn’ t'ink dere wer heep mo’ joy in takin’ ings den in gibbin’ up a cent. An’ T also can’t he’p seein’ dat de preachers who am ali de time talkin’ ‘bout gibbin’ nevah gib up nuff Deacon Burnside —*"Fo' de light 0° de moon, Reuben, I ‘spec you turn inter er rock er salt befo’ sun-up! Massy on us! de chile mus’ be hoodooed, sah!" PLACING HIM. Patrick O'Dowp—"' He's not a nagur an’ hes not a haythun, must be afther bein’ one o' thim new craythurs thev call prohi AN ANSWER. (To the author of “Lines on Finding an Old it,"a poem on page 20 of Christmas SLY glancing through 's bright pages, Dawned on my vision a fair maiden’s face. Long have I sought her— My heart ever rages Since I first saw her that day at the race. Yes, I acknowledge ‘twas Love at first meeting. Alas, knew neither her name nor address, And dared not, a stranger, Offend her by greeting, Nor touch the fair hand which you scorn to press. Alas, to my sorrow my Heart knows no turning, Summer and winter I've loved her, you sec. Oh, hard-hearted monster ! if You have no yearning, Tell me her name and leave some show me A PARLIAMENTARY CRITIC, MEMBER FROM TAVISTOKE-UP-THE-FLUME, § want it put on record, Mr. Speaker, that in every essential am a liberal of the liberals COAT-ROOM ATTENDANT—" "Ear ‘im, ‘Arty! An’ after tip- pin’ me tuppence for ‘anging hup ‘is mackintosh.” comicbooks.com