Judge — March 25, 1911 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

The Age of Common Sense. By CAROLYN WELLS. E ARE told that, whether the trend of modern usage be toward making the world better or worse, it’s at least in the direction of com- mon sense. By way of subscrib- ing to this theo- ry, we wish to call attention to the grand display of common sense shown in the choice of human garb. A man wearsa costume of thick, unwieldy material, which is ugly to the sight, ugly to the touch, and whose rough, woolly surface forms a permanent trap for dust, dirt, and microbes. His ridic- ulous shirt bosom, far more unyielding than a coat of mail, keeps him in terror lest he break or soil it. Round his neck and wrists he wears contraptions of the same degree of comfort as a convict's handcuffs and equally hampering. Round his collar is tied a bit of foolish-colored silk, with spots or stripes, absurdly out of harmony with the rest of his get-up. His hat is the most uncomfortable piece of mechanism that can be devised, and constricts his forehead into red furrows —or else blows off. A woman, after a foundation rigging of unbelievable discomfort, dons a garb of salt-sack proportions, but with tight collar, tight sleeves, tight bodice, and tight skirt. She wears tight shoes, with stilt-like heels, tight gloves, and a tightly drawn veil. Her coiffure takes on an added discomfort with each new style, and her hatpins, when in use, are instruments of torture. As to her hat— but no feminine hat, whatever may or may not be its absurdity, can get as far from common sense as a man's top hat or derby. A woman, with necessity for carrying handkerchiefs, gloves, powder puff: samples, recipes, memoranda, far glove buttoners, visiting cards, and a thousand and one such things, has no pockets. A man, with nothing to carry but a jackknife and a roll of bills, has seventeen. A woman, with a hat brim twelve inches wide, carries a parasol; a man, with a hat brim an inch wide, car- ries none. A woman, who has her hand- kerchief for every conceivable purpose, from dusting off the hall table to wash- ing baby’s face, has a cobwebby trifle, eight inches square. A man, who uses TRICKS IN ALL TRADES. 1. ‘ He cannot escape me now." 4 2. ** 1'm gettin’ winded."” 3. “Ha, rascal! the pen for you.” Well, that 's what I call sensible. ~ Sit there and wait for me." f NX 4. ' Gee? he's gainin’ on me, an’ I''m all in. Ha! an idea." Wid me trusty eraser I'll rub ow some o’ dis line, an —— . E=s 8, —— foil him. S' long, old top!"" CONTAGIOUS. “Say, mom, we simply must disinfect that cat’s basket. | There are five new kittens there this morning.”’ hisonly for its declared purpose, has a square yard of good cambric. A woman, though her head be well thatched with hair—and re-enforced at that—need not take off her hat when talking to a friend in the street. A man, with a few sparse spears or perhaps none, must do so and thereby risk pneumonia. Every man desires to be of tall stature, yet never would he add a lift to his low boot heels. A woman, beloved often be- cause petite, elevates herself on four- inch heels. Yea, verily, it is the era of common sense, thus evinced by the rational gar- ments on the human form divine! Song of the Smilers’ Club. AN OF sorrows without cause, Look unto thy liver! Life is what we make of i By the view we take of it. Do not blame the Giver. Take a pill and stir it up— Rouse thy sluggish liver! Domestic Science. Stella—‘‘How do you balance your meals?’’ Bella—‘‘Easy! What I leave, I warm over for Jack; and what he leaves, I warm over for myself. NCE in awhile a good fellow’ makes a good husband. comicbooks.com