Life — January 1, 1886 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

12 The card bore the name of the same firm that had fur- nished the seasons of the past year—and such seasons! But before Mr. Time could remonstrate the little drummer had opened his pack and was holding up a picture selected from his stock, representing a pretty little fur-clad maid, against a background of frost work and blue sky. “ Permit me to show you the very latest thingin Fanuarys.” “ And how is this fora May/” he continued, holding up another picture—this time a yellow-haired lassie, with an apron full of wild flowers—all upon a background of apple blossoms, Again, before Mr. Time could protest, half a dozen more had been fished out for his inspection, and amongst them the “last sweet thing in Augusts "—a lovely nymph, reclining upon a bank of flowers beside a pool. Mr. Time could restrain himself no longer. “Get out,” he shrieked, “you wretched little imposter, have n't I sworn a hundred times never to deal with you again, and now you have the effrontery to offer me the same old stock of seasons bought up from last year!” “The ‘latest thing in January's’ indeed! Just such a sample as you showed me last year; and look what you brought me!" “Thad her photograph taken to get even with you. What do you think of that ?” throwing down a cabinet by Sarony of a shivering creature under an umbrella, dressed in a mackintosh and rubber boots, with a background of mud. “And how's this for a May?” (the same thing, only more mud), and so on with the rest; the “last sweet thing in Augusts" being a sad case of sunstroke lying upon the bank of a dried-up pool. + LIFE: The only approach to seasonable weather had come dur- ing the Equinox. “ And now what do you think of yourself!" screamed Mr. Time, springing up from his chair, knocking over a century plant, smashing the statuette of the Minute Man upon his desk into a thousand jiffeys, and scattering the hour-glass and dates in every direction. But the drummer had fled, and as Mr. Time opened the window to fly after him, the sound of church-bells ringing out the Old Year broke upon the night air. “ Foiled again,” he muttered, shutting the window with a bang, and sinking wearily back into his chair. Before him stood the New Year, who, entering unseen, had gathered up the scattered samples left by the fleeing drummer. “ Thanks, awfully,” said Mr. Time, as he took them. “I have decided to use these, after all.” After arranging the cards into a calendar for 1886, Mr. Time and the New Year sat down together to a light supper of dates, and pledged each other's health over their hour-glasses. “ The year is dead, long live the year !” La Caricature, Av VoLeuR!!! ARRfrez-Le # # * PROVERBIAL SKITS. ache pavement of Hades is relaid the first of every January. “ Sic semper tyrannis" may be freely rendered, the sick always are tyrants. “PRIDE goes before a fall,” and the “winter of discontent” follows after. “Gop helps those who help themselves,” so that commercial travelers at a hotel table are sure of the assistance of heaven. “HE that is down need fear no fall,” because feathers fall so lightly. “THE blind cannot lead the blind,” and as both Justice and Love have bandaged eyes, neither can be trusted to lead the other. comicbooks.com