Judge — September 30, 1905 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

cIN- SPOTS. ** AUTUMN POETRY. Twice a year we come down with the poetry fever hard. We plug along through the summer and see the summer girl in all her glory and her bathing-suit, and we plow through the winter snows with never a hint or trace of poetry in our system. But when the lazy spring days come one poem, at least, is bound to break out on us, and the rash annoys us for days. Again in the au- tumn, when the air grows crisp and the leaves turn and nature gets sort o° sad- dish round the edges, we have another spell of poetry and we sometimes ¢ rastle with it for weeks before a cure is effected. Our fall spasm of poetics is generally mixed up with the leaves of the trees. The “sere and yellow” leaf, somehow, goes to our heart. There is something so pathetic about it. The following beau- tiful poem states the case ahout as it is. This lovely poem should be read with feeling. It should be learned by heart. The first six lines are an unfinished frag- ment by the great poet, Bill Nye. The rest were composed altogether by ourself without anybody to help us. We weep when we read this poem, and we know other good poets who do the same : AN AUTUMN soB. The falling leaves are falling, Tuey are falling everywhere, They are falling through the atmosphere, ‘And also through the air. ‘The autumn leaves are falling, They are falling pro and con, They are falling, falling ever, Falling ever and anon. The falling leaves are falling, ‘They are falling day by day, And it wouldu’t much suprise me If they always fell that way. I can sce the leaves a-falling ‘And it almost makes me sad, « But again I see them falling And it almost makes me glad. There's apt to be a sadness In the falling of the leaves. Bat you'll detect a note of gladness In the bringing in the sheaves. And thus the leaves are falling, ‘They are falling on and on. I sometimes wish there were no leaves ‘To clutter up my lawn. The falling leaves are falling ‘Tis sad, but I feel ‘tis true, And when they think thev've fell enough ‘They'll make good bedding for old Blue. For Dandruff and Baldness. Packer's Tar Soap Pure as the Pines An Ideal Shampoo with healing and antiseptic properties. Soothes the scalp. Strengthens the Hair. Recommended by Physicians. ‘The Packer Mig. Co., New York. MONKEY BUSINESS, To keep fish from smelling—cut off their noses. Why does a yard full of clothes remind one of a telephone? Because the line's busy. A steakholder—the gridiron. A stroke of lightning the other day tore a boy's shoe to pieces, but did not harm the boy. He had gone in swim- ming and placed his shoes beneath a tree. A notorious eavesdropper—rain. The prettiest thing around a picture is generally the frame. When you cancel a note you can't sell it —Baltimore American. THE SUMMER WIDOWER. Summer “ widowering” is not all that it is cracked uptobe. It is all right fora week or two to have the family away, but the enjoyment of freedom is apt to-pall as time passes. There is a novelty about feeding the cat, taking care of the canary, making up the bed and washing the dishes that makes the experience enticing—for a while. But it is pinchbeck and the gilt soon wears off.—Grand Rapids Herald. BABY’S NARROW ESCAPE. “My baby,” said the husband of a prominent club and society woman, “had a narrow escape yesterday.” “Indeed !" exclaimed the friend of the family.“ How was that ?” “The nurse-girl thoughtlessly left i alone with its mother for nearly an hou explained the husband and father.—Chi- cago News. MODERN METHODS. The contractor—“ What in thunder is the matter with that new hod-carrier you hired? He's let another hod of bricks fall to the pavement.” The foreman-—“Oh, he learned his || trade by mail from the hod-carriers’ cor- respondence institute !"— Brooklyn Life. A BLOW TO THE GOSSIPS, “Why are _all_you women down on Mrs. Weedes? 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