Judge — December 7, 1907 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

THE DRUMMER’S TALE HE reminiscent drummer sat, with his legs crossed, at his ease, a paper, half unfolded, full of news upon his knees. He heard them spin their simple yarns of travel here and there ; tales of the grip and road they were—of rural bills-of-fare ; of biils of dry-goods bought and sold ; of lovelorn afternoons ; of pickle crackers, vinegar; of codfish, beans, and prunes. And when their little tales were told he had a tale to tell of battle with unnumbered foes and conflict fierce as—well: “It happened down in Panama,” he said; “the night was still and heavy witha swampy mist. I had no heart to kill, but to my tent Theard them come by thousands, fierce and bold, each with his dagger sharp and keen. My blood ran icy cold. 1 was alone—no friend was near. [rose from out my bed to grapple with this horde of foes. Soon was I bloody red from half a hundred stabs, [ swear; and on they came, as though the gates of hell had opened wide and every man a foe. “One slipped upon me ere I knew. he drove his dagger to its hilt in my retreating wrist. raged, I struck again—the lust of blood and strife swept o'er me like a wave, and I crushed out his vicious life. His body dropped there at my feet ; another took his place, and blood flowed from a thrust of his and trickled down my face. But soon I had him in my hands, all blood and gory red—with one great blow I crushed his skull, and he fell down there—dead ! “ They swarmed like fiends into my tent ; the dead were laid so thick [ stepped on bodies as I fought. My heart grew faint and sick; but, though they struck me blow on blow and wounded me, and hot they pressed upon me for my life, they found no mortal spot. ° There, in that still and tropic night, they struck and slashed, and then, with eye to eye and thrust to thrust, we struck and struck again, until 1 thought, with misted eve, of home and friends, to whom no message tender could I send, there on the brink of doom. “One stole behind me as I fought, his dagger sought my neck, I struck at him and missed ; And then, en- but with one mighty fist I struck, and left him there, a wreck of bloody pulp and broken bones; another struck my throat and missed my throbbing jugular by half an inch—my coat was rent with gaping slits that told how fierce they fought; my brow was wet and red with bloody froth, Ah! I can see them now, their ranks unbroken, though I killed a score of them, but still they pressed on me from every side to kill and kill and kill ! * Noman will know how many slain I laid about me there ; how many eyes looked up at me with fixed and glassy stare. So heavy ‘ell my mighty hand that from a blow alone full many a one of them feli dead with not a cry or moan. Ah, heaven, it made me deathly sick! The night was dank and hot, and over me from head to heels was scarce a place or spot their daggers had not pierced my flesh; but, though my blood ran free Thad no mortal wound— but weak, ah, weak as I could be. © But I escaped, no matter how. And Iam here to tell the tale oft mad tropic night, but just how many fell I could not tell you if I would ; and often inthe night [dream of it, and wake all cold with a shrill ery of fright, I see them come, with daggers sharp ; they strixe at me and miss ; no terror of my mortal ays is half akin to this. For fierce they are and know no friend, and wild and know no law, and all the marshes give them birth down there in Panama.” AN INFERENCE. Sranrow-—*| wonder if Santa Claus will think we hung those up ?"" JW. voury. SOME CHRISTMAS FABLES CE upon a time a church Choir got into a Dispute and the Pastor Ordered them to Appear before Him in His study. * Don't you know,” he said, that what you Sing matters Mighty little to the Congregation ?- Do you Think for one Instant that people come to Hear your voices? Not much, They come to hear Me preach.” The Choir looked a Whole lot, but Said nothing. Later they went on Strike and would not Sing on Christmas Day, and the Result was the Slimmest attendance the Church had ever Known. Moral :-- Just when we think we are the whole show, we wake up. Once upon a time a Father took his Little son on his knee and told Him the story of Santa Claus, Among other things, he asserted that the old Gentleman with the long Whiskers drove around with his Reindeer on Christmas Eve and filled all the good little boys’ stockings full to Overflowing, and the Better the boy the More he Received, and the Youngster immediately proceeded to Behave in Such a manner that his Mother ex- pected he would Soon grow Wings. When Christmas came, however, the Father, who had lost his All in Wail Street speculation, was unable to make Good his Santa Claus assertions, and the little boy found some Lemon candy in his stockings. That settled his Goodness right There and Then and be grew up and Became a wicked Pirate. Moral :—Don't speculate in Wall Street Once upon a time, in a far- off country where the Ruler usually finds a few bombs among his Christmas presents, a Nihilist and his Wife were one evening busily engaged in packing a large Christ- mas box. The box contained. an Infernal machine that was War- make the best Yule-log ever "* YULE-LOG IN BUGVILLE. “Come on, Billy.. Hurry up and help me carry It. This cigarette will ranted to Cure the worst case of Toothache or money Cheerfully refunded, and when the Work was completed the Nihilist chuckled and remarked, ‘It is doninsky. Oh, won't our dear, dear General Buttinsky be Surprised when this is delivered 2” "Yes, but his Greatest surprise will come a Little later,” replied the woman with a laugh. The box was Duly delivered on Christmas morning, but as General Buttinsky saw It he called his Valet and said, ++ Here, Billinsky—tLere’s a Present for you, Don’t Stop to Thank me, but run Along home with it.” Moral :—As General Buttinsky remarked when he heard what happened to the valet: «It is not only more blessed to give than to receive, but sometimes a great deal safer.” 15 Soon HUNGER UNAPPEASED. Compliment-hungry lecturer —* So you took the book with you to my lecture with the intention of reading between my interesting spots, eh ?” Sincere hearer— Yes, sir.” Compliment-hungry lecturer —And you got nothing read,eh ?” Sincere hearer —* No, sir; not a thing,” Compliment-hungry lecturer —"'No intervals between my in- teresting places, eh ?” Sincere hearer —'*No, not that ; no interesting places to read between,” comicbooks.com