Judge — September 17, 1910 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

“ NN MAKING ; we come with no timid heart or falter- ing hand, For the sake of suf- feting human- ity, we ask a *-boon from the favored ones of earth for their less fortunate brethren, and we believe the re- sponse will be speedy and gen- erous. Pause and think, New Yorkers—y ou, whose city lots are cast in pleas- ant places—pause and think for a moment of the poor, benighted, aye, suburbanited thousands who dwell outside the limits of greater New York. Think how little hot air they get in their large and roomy, provincial homes! Think how they suffer and pine for the lack of it! What will you do to help them? We ask your contributions. There are many ways in which you can bestow your generosity. You may send lecturers to them. A long, prosy lecturer can be secured for only fifty dollars, who will provide hot air to a whole town hall full of people for a whole even- ing. WHAT DID HE MEAN? “Won't you come down and take me for a ride?” “I'm sorry. I haven't got the sand, EASIER SAID THAN DONE. 1, ‘Yes, sir, a man like you shosid exercise, You t lessons with me and I ‘Il bring you down to 175 pound: 2. “ But I only weigh 160," JUDGE Our Hot-air Fund. By CAROLYN WELLS. Or a set of books, including the Master Works of the Worlds Worst Literature, can be bought for twenty-nine sevent3-five, with padded covers and contents. This set would give hot air to a suffering family for many long winter evening: There are several daily papers published in the metropolis which would also be of use in our work. Will you not send a sub- scription to one of these to some suburban gentleman who depends only upon his own local Battle Axe of Freedom, which rarely contains any real hot air, except in its Pat- ent Inside Or, if you cannot afford expensive gifts, can you not find, among the waste of your library, some cast- off prospectuses, pamphlets of dividend-paying, etock- booming mines; circulars of patent medicines, reports of woman-suffrage meetings? Will you do it? A few cents will provide enough hot air to last an average family a week. Think of their hearts filled with gratitude and their heads with general misinforma- tion! We are sure that no further hints are necessary along these lines. But there in another branch of our dispensary, We have recently organ- ized a ticket bureau, by which tickets can be sent to these poor sufferers, which will enable them to run over to New York for a breath of hot air. Railroad tickets, tunnel or subway tickets, theater tickets, lecture or con- cert tickets —all of these will bring their grateful recipients to our city, which is nothing but hot air. Send your tickets to our bureau, and we will see that they are sent where they will do the most good. Do not delay! Let the good work begin! Let the good work go on! We append a letter from one of our beneficiaries, which speaks for itself: Podunk, December 22d. Hot-air Fund: Dear sirs—I received your ticket to New York, for which thanks. I went, and, gee! but I had a good time! I didn’t suppose there were such times going. I took in everything, and you can just bet I got hot air enough to last me quite a spell. But please send me another ticket as soon as you can, and please send two, for I want to take achum with me. He never saw such things, either. With gratitude and affection, I am, yours truly, Joshua Greene. And so, dear readers, that you may be blessed by your grateful fellow- creatures, respond heartily to our ap- peal. Sreces are usually watered that in- vestors may be ‘‘ soaked.’” The Kickers. HEY cuss New York And throw the brick, Bat gracious me, How they do stick! 'UROPEAN trav- elers are unan- imous in their de- cision that what ap- pealed to them the most while abroad was the begga Calle IT would like to hi: ra daughter for my wife.” fooled Snapper—" Indeed, and what does your wife want with ber? HIGH COST OF LIVING. Mrs. Cow—"' What! feed you on milk when I can get ten cents a quart for it? Not on your life. Grass for yours, my dear.”” A Suffragette’s Psalm of Life. By S. B. KISER. T L, me not in mournful numbers Suffrage is an empty dream; Wake your husband, if he slumbers, And pursue the sacred theme. Be not like dumb, driven cattle! If the men, by day or night, Would engage in silly prattle, Talk concerning woman’s right. Let us break the bonds that bind us, And arise and be sub): We may leave the kids behind us And make speeches all the time. Men are vile ard false and brutal— This we never should forget; All their promises are futile, But we will entrap them yet. Let us then be up and doing; And if man won't let us vote, We must keep right on pursuin Till at last we get his goat. HE heart broken by the pretty girl is often mended by the homely one. A MONOPLANIAC.