Judge — October 12, 1907 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

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TESLA and Professor Love of England have joined issue on the shape of the earth. The Englishman declares that the earth is shaped like a pear, while Mr. Tesla is as positive that its shape is more on the order of a lemon. We had supposed from a multitude of signs current and fa past that the earth is crooked; but we are not able to adduce the glib, sci- entific jargon the other scientists employ to prove their case. The elec- trical savant bases his argument on his experiments with “* stationary ter- restrial waves "’ and the conduct of hist magnifying wireless transmitter.” Mr. Tesla assures us that he does not have to resort to any kind of geo- detic survey. His transmitter is essentially a ‘* resonant circuit.” It emits so-called ‘* umdamped,”’ “ continuous,” or “ sustained oscillations.” The resulting waves are perfectly isochronous. Declaring that this has been a problem not easy to solve, Mr. Tesla proceeds to skip around among “sta- tionary loops and nodes of electrical vibration,” and cheerily concludes by asking us to believe that the earth is contoured lemon-wise, as already stated. In these days of earnest reform, when the country is confronted by the awful problem of a third term, and by all the grievous evils of pros- perity, we utterly refuse to let our enthusiasm be captured by Mr. Tesla. This old earth is perfectly satisfactory to us, whatever its shape—whether that of a cucumber or the crook-neck squash. We do suggest, however, to our Bryans and Hearsts, and the multitude of mighty reasoners, that if they could only get to discussing the shape of the earth and let ‘politics alone, the masses would rise up and thank them, THE STUDY OF FROGS IN THE SCHOOLS. WE ARE glad to know that the school method of physiological study is coming in for plenty of criticism at the hands of competent educa- tors. We know something about the painful efforts of children of eight to ten years of age to acquire a knowledge of the anatomy and behavior of the human body by looking carefully into the organs of a dead toad. We have often wondered just how far a child of tender years is helped forward in his career by having to do the exceedingly unpleasant surgical work in- volved in taking the skin off of the leg of acommon marsh-frog. We have seen little folks return to their parents in a most troubled state of mind, not to speak of agitated stomachs, because for an hour they had been obliged to kill and dissect these creatures of the slime. The theory is, of course, that the best way to know about the human body is to learn all you can about the frog. On the same theory a Boston chemist has announced some interesting conclusions as to the value of the spleen, that organ of mystery in the human midst. This chemist winds up his exceedingly in- teresting pronouncement by assuring us that he is proceeding on lines of actual histological inquiry, having studied under the microscope the spleen of ahog. Here it is again. If you want to know about a man, study a hog. The whole argument of the vivisectionists rests on this miserable doctrine, that the best way to learn about people, their in’ards and their out’ards, is to cut up rabbits, guinea-pigs, field-mice, cats and dogs, frogs, hogs and hop-toads. Conceding that these things may have instructive uses under the scalpel and skill of the surgeon, what sense is there in dis- gusting children with such obnoxious practices? ON ADDING NOVELTY TO A FLATTER’S LIFE. A FLAT-DWELLER of New York City has done a thing so novel, so out of the common, that he is entitled to the thanks of the whole body of flatters; and the thing done will no doubt inspire imitation everywhere. The New Yorker moved. Of course all New Yorkers, flatters in the main, move. There is no novelty in that. But he moved to music. There’s the beauty of it. Ulrich—Ulrich Wacher (let the full name bourgeon on the pages of history)—went forth and hired a band and came into the street with his subsidized musicians and played for one hour before his flat. Then he brought up a moving-van and had his goods loaded in while the band still played. Then he ordered the van to move through the streets ata funereal gait, and the band followed behind and played on. When Ulrich arrived at his new domicile he had his goods and band drawn up and posed before the door, and still the band played on. Next he had him- self and goods and band snap-shotted, and then, to a medley of popular a Ulrich, with his goods, moved in. The city flat has made the whole busi- ness of human life on its domestic side so unromantic and sordid that we thank Ulrich for any least bit of novelty he has been able to inject into it. Wafted from flat to flat to the glorious strains of rag-time, vases smashed and polished-wood surfaces drawn raucously across protruding nails in the hallway, while the band discourses soulful melodies—such is the future to which this flatter’s performance points the way. ILLIAM RANDOLPH HEARST is not a candidate. He says so himself. Certainly not. I" IS thought the Japs, after taking a good look at Mr. Taft, woke up and quit dreaming of a war. r ANOTHER Bryan coming-out banquet is scheduled. The Nebraskan is the most inveterate Presidential débutante the world has ever seen. POWDERLY to send out a broadside invitation to the immigrant of Europe, Asia, Africa and Oceanica to come with us, and come faster! Oh, no, brother! A million a year’s a plenty. comicbooks.com