Judge — November 12, 1910 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

HE WHO fishes for compli- ments should seek shallow waters. A landlady frequently makes ‘ oe sss both ends meat by making one 4, end hash. 4 — What is enough for one will 7 ee Jo very well for two if the sec- J EFS ond party fails to turn up at the last minute. It doesn’t always take a man with an elastic conscience to stretch a point in his own favor. Between two evils choose the leased, and then break the lease. To philosophize in trouble is good; but if you have bitten off more than you can chew, it were better to Fletcherize. That Misery loves company is shown by the enormous size of her visiting list. A good rule of thumb is never to hit the nail on the head. The height of perfidy is when one woman kisses another on the cheek in order to dem- onstrate the fact that her complexion is not waterproof. The man who mortgages his house to buy a motor car must be careful lest the falling due rust his machine. The only thing some people have to fall back upon when the rainy day comes is the silver lining in the cloud. In making friends, the wise man takes care to look after the specifications and to use only the most durable materials, One wild oat sown at the wrong moment may spoil a whole harvest of golden grain. The matrimonial match that lights only on an opera box is not necessarily a safety match, though it may serve the purpose of a man with money to burn. Tact consists in occasionally likening other people's faults to your own when you are telling them about them. The chances are that, when the sluggard went to the ant, she was too busy to see him. Man is predestined to trouble. If Eve Hee -GOING UP! 4 Uncle Hiram (as sidewalk elevator rises) ~“' Gosh all hemlock! I'm on top 0” one o' them flyin’ machines !"" JUDGE Cross-cuts of a Philosopher. hadn't eaten the apple, she probably would have made a pie out of something else. The hobble skirt was probably invented by some man who was an enemy to bargain days. In these days of great wealth, many a man is driven to drink by his chauffeur. If we were to speak only well of the dead, history would be even more unreliable than it is now. The Copper-toed Boots. (With an apology to Woodwort.) By ERLE GREINER. OW DEAR to my heart were those cop- toed booties, That father once bought me when he was in town; They fitted so nicely on my little footies, And made a great racket as I stepped aroun’. To see them get muddy I never could do it, Or leave them at night in the darkness alone; I kept them so close that I sometimes would rue it, And polished the copper until it just shone. Those dear leather booties, those copper- toed booties, That father once bought me when he went to town, How well I remember the days that were “ juicy,” And those play; How wet they would get, and my dear sis- ter Lucy Would warn me of trouble on the coming ttle booties and I went to day. How much I would ery, and declure that I could not Pull on those old booties, those wet, clumsy things; And just when I thought that they certainly would not, Presto ! they were on, as if working by springs. Those copper-toed booties, those dearly loved booties, That father once bought me when he was in town. A LONG LIFE BEFORE HER. Fame. By WILLIAM J. LAMPTON. ELLS, bells, bells, bells, Hear the ringing of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells! How each clanging clapper tells Of the light that now dispels All doubt, and likewise tells Of the everlasting knells Of those who ought to know That Edgar Allan Poe Has made himself a name Quite worthy of a show In any Hall of Fame. Wow, They know now, All right; And the blight They laid on Is gone, And Poe Is in the front row. “He's Out!” FORMER New York baseball pitcher accepted a position as a waiter in a Gotham restaurant, and the next day was discharged for tossing a poached egg over the plate. Never Laid Off. IXTY thousand school children of New York are on half time, but her politi- cians are still on full pay. SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE IS SAUCE FOR THE GANDER. Why should not the men indulge in the hobble craze?