Judge — July 16, 1898 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

L” FABLE. SHE electric god and the god of internal forces once had an argument as to who could most strongly influence woman- kind. In the selection for test they final- ly selected a bicycle girl, since by her multiform, manifold and vari-colored at- tire she seemed to them the incarnation of indifference, contempt and total dis- regard for the eternal fitness of things. The electric god without more ado start- ed the contest, shooting a few forked bolts in close contiguity to the forks and bolts of the bicycle girl's bicycle and now Mr, SpouteR—‘‘An heirloom, Jobnnie, is something that’s and then about her Junoesque form; but handed down from father to son,” with a vexatious glance at the gathering Lirrie Jounniz—" Huh ! That's a funay name for pants.” clouds she said, “A little rain and lightning cuts no figure with a girl who was reared in the western cyclone district. I'll push on at all hazards.” The brow of the electric god grew black. He darted fierce bolts across her path that merely elicited “ Gee- whizz!" from the maid, who gee-ed her bike a bit and whizzed on, murmuring, “ What motor-power for a bike that light- ning would make if it could only be caught and bottled up like Cervera.” At this the electric god gave up the unequal battle and slunk off discomfited. It now was the god of internal forces’ turn, and it soon sent a tremor through the earth with sufficient energy to jar the bike girl's hat from being on straight, and she, forthwith bursting into tears, dismounted and drew forth SUCH A QUESTION. a hand-mirror amid bitter lamen- . . a arm, ” fi ‘ * Why, Harold ! w'ot have yer bin a-doin’ wid yerself ?” tations at the catastrophe. “I've “Oh, nothin’; only bin playin’ Spanish an’ American wid Tom.” won!" cried the god of internal ‘An’ who was Spanish?” “Wrot's de matter wid yer—are yer blind 7" forces, “and won easily. Had it been necessary I should have scared a cow in her path, or even unearthed a nest of mice, as a resort.” Two hours later the bicycle girl, having at last satis- factorily arranged her bonnet, mounted her wheel and sped away. “Ah!” cried the victori- ous god; winking at the sun, be- ing in and of the earth, “I have kept in touch with womankind and her ‘ wheels,’ Moral—The prime distract- er of the tenor of a woman's way is her intuition that her bonnet is poised at a refractory angle. Ww. R. COOK. HER BATHING-DRESS. THIS parados, I'm thinking, Though strange, is very true. Her flannel suit, while shrinking, Is far from modest too. HARMONY AT THE POLLS. He (in Colorado) — Well, what ticket did you vote?” een She—" I voted a pink one. Se That horrid white independent CHANGE ABOUT. ticket that you wanted me to ar me, Florence! I hope you are not going into the water in that bicycle-suit.” vote didn’t come anywhere near es, mamma, You see it's an old one, and I want to save my new bathing-suit to ride my bicycle in.” matching my shirt-waist.”” comicbooks.com