Judge — June 6, 1896 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

A LEAP-YEAR MAID. A WOMAN stood at the golden gate, with a record for passport in. Troublous and hard had been her fate, yet her life had been without sin, Saint Peter looked at her face and said, “Full long you've lived on the earth; and yet ‘tis writ, for 1 just have read, your soul 's of uncommon worth. ‘Tis strange, ‘tis strang mused the heavenly guard; “and you never have told a lie?” “ Nay, good Saint Peter.” “The gate 's unbarred—— But stay, but stay! before you pass by and pray tell me ex- actly how old you be—your word as the proof I've seen.” She smoothed back her hair and drooped her eye. “Of birthdays I've had six- teen.” “What! wrinkles, gray hair? ‘Tis won- drous, very, with such youth to so strangely mix “Ah, saint, I was born on February 29th, 1836. “Go back,” sighed the saint ; “ heaven 's not for you. Its blisses must pale before the woman who all her life but knew one birthday in every four.” REGINA ARMSTRONG HILLIARD, RIVALRY IN LONESOMEHURST, ‘Mrs, Lonrsome— Why, John! T am glad to see you so smiling and looking so happy on your return ROYAL CONSERVAS. home from business this evening. What is the cause of it?” WEE . Mk. Lonesome—'* Well, my dear, can't you see? Why, I had more bundles to carry home than any L‘ WS which the king has the pleasure to make of the other fellows on the train,” Remain at his pleasure to keep or break. THE FLOWERS OF DECORATION DAY. BLOSSOMS there are for days of troth ‘And blushing bride-array ; Blossoms to make for trembling feet ‘A rosy marriage-way. Daisies that star the early fields For chubby hands to hold, And buttercups which God has sent To be the babies’ gold. But we, a higher fate is ours, Ordained from bud to bloom To lie amidst the green young grass Above a soldier's tomb. And when upon the quiet graves With love and tears were laid, And music swells from martial bands ‘They heard when on parade ; And when the tattered flags are raised ‘They fought and died to keep, We feel astir through tangled growths A thrill from hearts that sleep. ‘Then when the dew falls silently, With throbbing drums gone by, We are on guard, we flowers, and proud vANKEE'S : Upon such graves to die, RVENEEES OPINION, = 7 YLOKRNCE R. PRATT Mr. Hacks (from the States)—"* By gum ! what er fine lot 0° buildin’-stone goin’ plum ter waste ! A SLIP IN IER MEMORY, Where are you going, Alice 7” ‘ome on, George, dear. Let's go down to the old beech-tree and tonne see if our names which you cut when we were courting are still there.” comicbooks.com