Judge — December 22, 1906 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

Ni pa HIS PREFERENCE. “Now, pahson, how would yo" like yo" eggs cooked 2" “Bile ‘em hard in de shell, sistah. UNDERSTOOD. HE atmosphere of home, sweet home, Has grown suspicious, quite ; My fond wife's glances seem to roam ; She does not sleep at night. My aldest son here, just of late, Most dutiful has grown ; The youngest, from a recent date, Much cvurtesy has shown. My eldest daughter seems to be Developing kind ways Which never were discerned by me In weary, by-gone days. The baby’s coo" seems more replete With sweetness, and the maid Persists in smiling when we meet— She makes me quite afraid. Likewise the butler and the cook And gardener greet my call With such politeness that I look For all the stars to fall. Bat I, through past experience, Surmise their little drift : They hope to get, at my expense, A costly Christmas gift. HANS'S HOPES HASHED. HANS was a ruddy-laced grocer’s boy. He was poor, but honest and energetic. On the paltry wages paid monthly to him by Schmidtausend, his employer, he barely existed, being compelled to dine on store-cheese and crackers during the week, with perhaps prunes on Sunday for dessert. Day after day he could be seen trudging along the dusty streets, a large basket suspended from his muscular arm, weighted down with dainty viands. And the heaviest basket always seemed to go to Mrs. Gunbusta, who lived farthest from the store. And whenever Hans brought an order to that good lady she invariably asked him to do small favors for her, such as rolling out or in the heavy galvanized garbage can, dusting the clumsy door-mats, or polishing the brass work around the front of the house, for all of which Hans received merely a pleasant “thank you” from Mrs, Gunbusta. But nevertheless Hans did all of these things willingly, for it was the twenty-first of December, and in a few more days Christmas would be here and he would be fabulously rewarded. , (If it had been the eighteenth of July Hans would have told her— hut we digress.) At last Christmas morning dawned, cold and bright. Fortunately, Hans had a large basket full of luxuries to deliver to the wealthy Mrs. Gunbusta, As he walked along the avenue toward her palatial mansion his fat, chubby face was wreathed in smiles. He had decided unanimously to deposit part of the money in the bank, dab- ble in real estate withsome of it, and retain one dollar and forty cents Yo’ know I'se a hard-shell Baptist."" for himself, with which he would go to Jersey City and paint the town red, If the « paint- ing” could be done for less than one dollar forty he would send the balance left over to the old folks across the sea. At last he reached the big iron gate that led into his ElDorado, It clicked behind him, As he touched the button which summoned the cook his entire soul was saturated with joy. Besides, his palm itched, and he knew that was a positive sign of his getting money. ‘The cook welcomed him pleasantly, and he had hardly deposited his basket upon the kitchen table when she informed him that Mrs, Gun- busta wanted to see him up stairs in her library. He could hardly contain himself, His two palms commenced to itch, He went up the stairs three steps at a time, and entered the beautiful library with hat in hand and with a courteous bow. The lady nodded a cheerful welcome and then said, “Hans, I wish you a joyous and pros- perous Christmas, and I want you to take this five-dollar bill and "—— “Danks, lady, dank you. Och, Gott! I didn’t oxpect so much, Jiminy-crickets !"" in- terrupted the appreciative Teuton. After a vexatious pause, Mrs. Gunbusta went on, * What I was going to say, Hans, when you interrupted me, was that you should take this tive-dollar bill and tell Mr. Schmidtausend to take out the four dollars and ninety cents 1 owe him, and—er—you can keep the change as a present fr * But Hans waited to hear no more. What he grumbled as he kicked his way out of that house could be printed better with pi-ed type. It was no “ reformed ™ spelling. ror. rrrzen. REVISED VERSION. 66 GANTA, spare that treet Touch not a single bough. With useless things for me It's overloaded now !" THE LAND OF PROMISE. N old colored woman from Virginia—one of those who had been a slave—came to New York not long ago to visit her daughter living over to the west of Columbus Circle. It was the first time the old woman had ever been out of her native state and the big city amazed her, The daughter dutifully took her mother about to see the sights in a mild way, and one day they were making their first trip along Eighth Avenue. At a corner shoe-shinery two Italians were busily polishing the shoes of a well-dressed darkey who was smoking his cigarette and enjoying himself, . The old woman caught at her daughter's sleeve and stopped suddenly when she saw the unusual sight. “sLam’ o glgry, Susan !" she exclaimed, «I nebber ‘spected to lib to see dis day. Dah’s two white folks blackin’ one nigger’s shoes, Ef dis yer ain’t de lan’ o’ promise, den dar ain’t none, sho’.” EDITORS CuRistmas TREE. A HOLIDAY ACHIEVEMENT. No Christmas flowers bloom for him, Poor man! as everybody knows. And yet he labors to keep trim ‘And neat a bright carnation nose. comicbooks.com