Judge — January 2, 1897 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

DECISIONS HANDED DOWN. BIELIGION is like medicine—it is the overdose that neutralizes. ‘The chaperon is the social pace- maker. History is Father Time's junk- wagon, ; Politics and poker make more widows than war. Inspiration is a flasb-light; an idea a time-exposure. Lovers and poets have the ad- vantage of being unhampered by facts. Young men believe platonic friendship possible; old men know better, He who finds the way to a wo- man’s heart a boulevard has taken the wrong road, MYRTLE REED. THE CHRISTMAS CHIME. N THE old farm-house long a The world without so dark and chill, ‘The fields and pastures gray with snow, ‘A few faint stars above the hill— The fires were bright, the rooms were gay, ‘And on the wind, in fitful swells, Borne from some village far away, We heard the sound of Christmas bells. The children’s voices, as we stood Out on the porch—we two alone— Bubbled with laughter sweet and good, Care-free and joyous every tone. A DIRECT INSULT ‘The children? What were you and I Mr. NewLyricH—"'I shall discharge the butler to-morrow, Ruth. He has Bat children, with such hopes and dreams showed me marked disrespect.” As in the heart of childhood lie, ‘Mrs. New.yricu—"* Goodness! what has the poor fellow done?” Like sunlight in clear summer streams? Mr. NewLvricH—" He spoke to me confidentially to-day without using the English accent.”” You held me in your folding arm. Was the night cold? I did not know— SUBLIME EGOTISM. ‘The heart of love and youth is warm. Georges SiG eS We laughed, we kissed, we whispered low ; reel OM ACO DOU RlIkER YOUrS Dew | Mamet, ‘The world and life and time were ours, J uncle? I hear he is a very fine man.” And none too wide for our delight, Uncle Richmond Ya-as, Mars't George; he's a Oh, but the yéars, the days, the hours ee Rs A berry fine man. But I tell yo’, Mars’r George, dar am Stsee thas tereeeey Coreen sum folks in dis yer-world whad tinks sech a mighty We were but children, fancy led, lot ob deirselbes dat dey tinks dey made de earth an’ ‘Tristing in fove, in God, and truth. de Almighty carted de dirt.” What are we now, when all is said, < But children still, with the dreams of youth Untouched, unspoiled? And the Christmas chime Rings in our hearts, though our lips be dumb. Peace, peace and joy for the Christmas time, ‘And hope for the days that are to come, DENVER SENET. A STOVE-LIFTER. JUDGMENTS FROM MR. MCGARVEY. TH MOST plisant place git it is in some other felly’s nick, It's th’ bist summer-re- sort intoirely thot a felly kin go to in-th’ winter. Some fellies prefer t° shmoke their afther-supper | cigars roight afther brickfast. “Twor th’ divil av a big argumint Grogan got into wid mesilf, but, bejakers! Oi wudn't talk. Shure, whin beer is foive ints th’ glass an’ Oi hov but th’ foive it costs me th’ same as whin 'tis tin cints th’ glass an’ Oi hov but th’ tin, “Twor a narry eshcape Oi hod frum drownin’, Shure, NOt HIS STYLE. Or wor, vaken wid cramps: io CONSOLATION. \usrue Nit—" Say, Willie, why didn't yer take de togs oth ligs. an’ Oi'd gone down Sua— Yes, it's all very'sad. Only yesterday Mr. New- ue of lady offered yer?” shure only Oi wor in me bid man buried his wife, and this morsiog his qotber-fvlaw died” © BLINKING BLUNDERS—"* Wot d yer take me fer? She an’ not in th’ wather. Upicsaat det ” He—" Oh, well, that verifies the old saying, said dey wuz de ol’ man’s workin'-clothes. Davin w. ratwance, endure for a night, but joy cometh in the comicbooks.com