Judge — December 3, 1892 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

THE SMALLBREED FAMILY HAVE A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN, ONE CHRISTMAS NIGHT. WHETHER it was an overdose of plum-pud- ding or the fact that my beloved Stella smiled sweetly on me in the afternoon, I have good cause to remember the night of Christmas, 1891. I re- tired to my couch feeling as if 1 had dined on terra- pin every day fora year. I could not sleep. I tossed about on my bed until I toppled over to the floor, and then concluded to light the gas and read. But I could not read, for the noise of the wind brought up images of ghosts, and all I could do was to pace The chi up and down like a man with his first baby when it takes a notion to indulge in vocal gymnastics at midnight. I suppose I kept the whole house awake, for soon some one from below came to my door and, knocking timidly, asked me whether I was in need of a doctor. I answered in the negative, and was left with the tender sarcasm that it was a strange time to practice pedestrianism. Then some one from above came down and asked me if I wanted a sedative, and suggested that the best thing I could do was to take a shower- bath, I resented his intervention, and wa elegant bachelor apartments about two miles away that ought to be ten- anted by fellows like myself. I grew rather desperate. I donned my clothes, went out into the cool night air, and began to wrestle with m complicated thoughts. I had to make all sorts of explanations to inqui tive policemen, for | suppose I acted suspiciously; but I finally reached told that there were some COLLUSION 1N Jocxo (the joctey)—"" T'd give my dinner to know what kind of a steer that broacho is giving Rover home safely, only to be attacked next morning with incipient pneumonia and gencral inertia, I say nothing about the enormous doctors’ bills I had to pay as the result of my nocturnal prowling, but I grew so pale and melancholy that the cruel Stella shunned me in favor of a prize athlete, and re- fused even to listen to my special pleading. Minus health and a sweetheart, I've lived the past few months racked by introspection and gen- eral debility, and while I don’t believe in suicide I'm sure no one will blame me if I assume the airs of a recluse and take to writing poetry or cultivating chickens. Let things take their course. romo. NATWAN at, LEVY, SILVERSTEIN’S CHRISTMAS PRESENT. ++ L{ULLO, Dinkelspiel! I suppose now that you and your father-in-law have embraced Christianity you keep Christmas ?"" “Yaiz, Silfersdein he come py me undt he say ‘Levy, for dhose Grismas bresent I gif you vorty ber cent. disgount on all dher poys’ glothes you vant.’ “That was nice. How many boys have you ?" “Thaf no poys. Only four girls.” BOUT Christmas time one is apt to exclaim, How time flies—and the money ! THE TENT. Jocko (in the ring)—"* Bless my buttons! if he hasn't taught him to buck.” comicbooks.com