Life — December 31, 1891 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

A TRIAL. Cupid as Jude The charge, | understand, is this— C' PID You stole, in your youthful haste, a kiss; But [am ler Confess— I—ves—that is the truth, ient with youth Youtu Corio Your And then? Be brave and tell me all No lamp was lighted in the hall— And, standing in the darkness, there, T heard a step upon the stair I had no time for second thought, So forthwith in my arms I caught ‘The outlined form, which I believed To be the damsel who received My every thought—I kissed her brow— The recollection pains me now For by some turn of horrid chance Youth at Bar, I kissed the eldest of her aunts— A maid of forty-four— Hard fate! Go on—why do you hesitate ? And ere I found time to explain — That kiss was w: But have you seen her? She's wrinkled—ugly—and she paints ! She asked too much— Youtr Cur: But you must not Keep what you so wrongly got. You must return it, Yourn Mercy ! Cease— Certh: Return it to her by her niece. Flavel Scott Mines FIXING OUNG TUTTER: getting up a little straw-ride Maude, and I thought perhaps you would like to go. Miss MAUDE TWICKENHAM (doudbt{ully): Well, | don’t know. Mother is a little particular about my going on straw- rides, Mr. Tutter. You know, she has some very strange notions. 1 presume you will drive—as usual ? Tu : Yes. | expect to. Miss TWICKENHAM (ér7ghtly) > Well, | guess perhaps | can arrange it. | will promise mother to sit on the same at with the driver. IT UP. I just dropped in to say that | am for Christmas, Miss ROADSIDE AMENITIES. BYAs LIST: Young man, did you know you were on the road to Hell ? YounG MAN: Notcill | met you. Just up ? A GAME OF CHANCE. [YROF. HARDHEAD: | am surprised, Miss Giddie, to find that you play chess. Miss Gippte (making a move): Why “ You said you never indulged in games of chance. “Why, Mr. Hardhead ! Do you consider chess a game of chance “It is, as you play it.” so, Mr. Hardhead ? I is supposed that Charles Dickens wrote * Hard ‘Tim directly after “ Christmas Stories.” “Why po you weer, Caius?” EXCUSE THESE UNMA‘ TEARS, LUCULLUS, BUT I CANNOT STOP THEIR FLOW WHEN I THINK THAT SO SMALL A TRIF! AS A STICK OF CHEWING-GUM, OR PERHAPS A SOLITARY CARAMEL ALL THAT STANDS BETWEEN ME AND COMPLETE HAPPINESS. comicbooks.com