Judge — November 22, 1913 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

A mongrel cur, whose owner, a country lad, stood by, had apparently beaten the hounds to a fox kennel, for he was fore- most among the pack that was digging and yelping in great excitement. Jor- dan and his men were try- ing to help uncover the game, but seemed a bit nonplussed. The unpro- fessional dog held his own as an original discoverer and savagely bit at the hounds that sought to displace him. Finally the mongrel drew a snarling ani- mal from the burrow by the tail. “Is that your fox?’’ asked Lady Beldoir of Treadway with a laugh as she adjusted her lorgnette. ‘Is that the fox?’’ asked Treadway of Jordan. “Blime me 'f I know what it is, sir,’’ said the lad who owned the cur. ‘‘Dat's a woodchuck!"’ Farewells PON November's frosty breath Our camphored robes we fling, And solemnly the old hen’s death We altogether sing. Thanksgiving’s come and gone, and now We dream of Christmas peace; Yet still with somewhat troubled brow We mourn the pig’s decease. Full soon will come the winter’s shine, With Christmas in its track— And now the turkey we consign To sudden death. Alack! —Lurana Sheldon. Blank Meter “Who is that man over there—the one counting his fingers?” “That's Blobbs, the poet. But he isn’t counting his fingers; he’s counting his feet."" No More Footprints For the old days we must grieve. Statesmanship was then sublime, And a statesman tried to leave Footprints on the sands of time. Few to footprints now aspire. Surely life much savor lacks, When a statesm: one desire Is to cover up his tracks. William 8. Adkins. Secure “Do you think Charley is still attached to you?’’ “Oh, yes! But, of course, I have ‘to string’ him now and then." Notwithstanding the late Balkan trou- ble there was some turkey left for us. From a MY CAT clinched a skunk Sunday night. We didn’t see the skunk, but we know. If there’s anything you think you'd stick to through anything, try skunk. I thought I should always stick to my cat if he didn’t have a tooth nor a leg, but he has to stay out on the well platform with the wind in the south- east now. I bet I know a boy that’s stuck on me, for Sunday he poked grass down all the girls’ necks but mine. Pa never wanted to go to town yet but he had to wait while a pair of overalls or a shirt was finished or patched or ironed or dried or not change. And I never wanted anything made but, ‘I’ve got to sew alittle for pa first,’’ which ma does while he waits on the edge of the bed in his nightgown. Grandma is a woman who, because she wouldn’t go to town after dark to get shaved, thinks no one else ought to. It’s been good weather this summer to fat husbands, The other day I put a red peony in my Sinner’s Diary whip socket and nobody knew me. They put on their Sunday voices and gave me over half the road. I give the people lessons Saturday who keep Sunday, and to those Sunday who keep Saturday. I keep whichever day rains. Ain’t it blamed funny that as soon as two begin to act natural they fall out? My Pessimist says she’s always noticed that men who are lucky with hogs have a lane with a mud hole at the end of it. A mouse has gnawed my riding bridle. If I knew which one it was, I'd take him down to the lake and set him on the poison ivy. —Lynette Freemire. Charity Thanksgiving Day looms up to view, And lots of folk within our ranks Think all the giving they need do Consists of simply giving thanks. Mrs. Perkins—The parson smiled to-day when I said 1''d be busy damning socks while Hiram was away damming the millpond. comicbooks.com