Judge — May 7, 1910 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE NOT THE HAT OF WILLIAM TELL. SMART DOINGS IN SOCIETY. By ELLIS OLIVER JONES. ITH the coming of spring, the Chantecler craze is reach- ing its full height. Mrs, O'H. Piffle created a sensation yesterday by appearing in Central Park without her dog, Nasty, which is so well known in society. Instead of Nasty, upon the seat beside her was a handsome game cock which she recently acquired from Tom Sharkey. A novelty was introduced the other day by Mrs. Oliver White-Daubbs when she drove out ina new green touring car, upon each side of which painted, ‘‘ Keep off the Grass.”” The chauffeur was appropriately dressed to represent a milch cow of the period. The plans for the new mansion of Mrs. Neversole-Djunk provide for an incubator in each room. One of the handsomest gowns of the week is that of Mrs. Packer B. Fandlamb. The bottom of the skirt was built in three terraces, upon which were artistically arranged speaking likenesses of a lawnmower, a gardener, and other farmyard in- habitants. In the center was a watering trough. The upper terrace was edged with barbed fencing wire. Above this was a bodice of singed chicken feathers. Her hat represented a negro triumphantly holding an inverted chicken aloft by the legs. A phonograph attachment imitating barnyard noises gave a final touch of realism. Mrs, De Leery M. Tremens is mourning the loss of the new millinery acquisition which she had intended to wear at the Roosevelt reception, and which was noticed in these columns last week as one of the most lifelike of the Chantecler crea- tions. It seems that in a moment of inadvertence she left the hat on the front stoop, where it was viciously attacked by the neighbor's cat and irreparably ruined. Tue Bic Batter—‘‘ PUT 'EM OVER.” Mrs, Wunz D. Cent is having her new touring car fitted with a complete set of roosts, A great deal of badinage is passing current at the expense of Mrs. Baer-Phoote, the society dancer. Mrs. Baer-Phoote has a crowing likeness of a rooster on a certain hat which she insists on wearing at late suppers. The other night young Scarcely Manners, who is something of a wit, remarked that it was evident Mrs. Baer-Phoote didn’t go to bed with the chickens. But she was equal to him when she quickly replied that she was up with the cock-crow, anyway. THE REASON WHY. Sweet young thing—* Why do you suppose there are no marriages in heaven ?”” Misogynist—* Because it is heaven.” WE SEE they are going to have a dry Sunday in New York, Probably “* Extra Dry. THE MANAGER COUNTING THE HOUSE. THE UMPIRE By EDWIN HUTCHINGS. N_ UMP there was, who was on the square (Squarer than you or I) To the ragged galoots with the tousled hair (We called them the fellows with muscle to spare), But the umpire called them to stop the hot air And swat up at least a fly. Oh, the clouts they waste, and the flouts they taste, And the work of their hands and feet Belong to the bleachers who do not know (And now we know that they never could know) And shouldn’t have had a seat. An ump there was, and his force he spent (Even as you and 1), Vigor and youth and an honest bent (And it wasn’t the least what the bleachers meant), But a crowd must follow its fool intent, Even though bottles fly. Oh, the game they lost, and the fame they lost, ‘And the pennant a-glimmering gone Belong to the umpire who knew he was right (And now we know that he knew how to fight) And had a bit of brawn. Yet the ump was but one, and he had to kow-tow (Even as better men), As the crowd had foreseen when they started the row (But they wanted to win, and they didn’t care how) ; So his body survived, but he walked hike a cow— He never will umpire again. And it isn't the shame, and it isn’t the blame, Nor the falling down on the job; It's coming to know that the fans couldn’t see As much of the play as a man such as he— And to know he succumbed to a mob! comicbooks.com