Judge — February 10, 1912 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

back in 1769. George had his troubles, but his path was simple when we think of Menes. B. C. after a date is short for the Latin phrase Bac Cup, or Back Up, and means the calendar is backing upon you. A.D. fighting hard for six years, found he was Higher Cost of Eggs. The hen that laid the golden egg Was a wonder to behold; But the eggs to-day that their henships lay— Are they not as good as gold? Mother Goose Rhymes. “(Where are you going, my pretty maid?” “I'm going a-voting, sir,’’ she said. “*May I go with you, my pretty maid?’” “Go home to your children, sir,’’ she said. “What is your fortune, my pretty maid?”’ is Ad Don, or Add On. Washington was a calm and unspectacular fighter, but compared with George our old friend Menes was as uusensational as a lec- ture on fodder. Menes never in his life took the fleeing Eliza by the hand and crossed Dela- ware on the ice, pursued by three fat great dane dogs posing as blood- hounds. Menes never set up as a star truth- teller. When the time came to tell a clean, out- and-out whopper, he told it without posing around waiting for a moving- picture man to take a snapshot of him telling the truth. If he got caught in a lie and couldn’t explain it, he merely retired from the world for a few days and got himself born again. due credit, but Menes was a remarkable character. He took hold of Egypt when it was split in two like a frost-cracked thumb and jammed it together and stuck the plaster of unity on it, while George Washington was a splitter and peeled the American plaster off the British wall after the peeling was well under way. George walloped away in a time of com- parative enlightenment, while Menes had to struggle along in the mists of antiquity, with a sword in one hand and a foghorn in the other, while he looked at the calendar each day with dread, pecting to have to begin at the begin- ning and go through the teething stage again. Politics to Date. Three big men! Three big men! See how they run! See how they run! They all run after the President's chair. We wonder and ask which one will get there. Did you ever see such a thrilling affair As three big men? Careline Mayhew. Bryan, the champion runner of the world, no doubt thinks that everything will come out all right in the long run. Gey Gitmson ay We wish to give George Washington, INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. She Was Not on Her Job. Cook—‘‘An’ why was th’ new maid discharged?"’ Laundress—‘‘Sure, it was because of her not ’tendin’ to Fido; she let him get into th’ room where little Miss Bessie had th’ measles.’ ON RECORD. Irate parent—"' There! yell into that, and when you grow up you'll know what you owe your parents.’" “My ballot’s my for- tune, sir,’’ she said. “Then I won't marry you, my pretty maid.”’ “Wait till I’ve asked you, sir,’” she said. Doubly Profitable Retail druggist —‘‘I don’t see any more prof- it in your liniment than in the brand I’m hand- ling.” Agent for the Skinogfe Tenstrength Liniment— “You don’t? Why, man alive, there’s dou- ble the profit in hand- ling mine! My liniment is so powerful that every bottle sold means the sale of a bottle of salve.’’ The Wail of the Spider. ‘*Please beat it from my parlor,’’ Said the spider to the fly. “Your feet are now all full of germs, And I shall surely die.” The Worst of the Week. “If you will come back Monday night,’’ she said, ‘‘I’ll give you some of my home-made fudge.’’ “T'll sure come,’’ he said, ‘‘for this is the year for candy-dates.’’ Time’s Changes. In 1907. “*Why can’t we knock Bryan Into a cocked hat And end him?’’ said Woodrow. “I'd like to do that!’’ In 1912, “Quite likely I said it; But what if I did? We're now both wearing The same kind of lid."” Wil 8. Gidley Her Ingenuity. Mettle—‘‘If Miss Larksbur made no reply when you proposed to her, on what grounds is she suing you for breach of promise?” King—‘‘She claims that her silence gave consent.”” To cure chapped hands—drop the boys. comicbooks.com