Judge — December 20, 1913 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

| | | Laugh She Wore Her Furs The day was cold—she wore her furs! A delicate physique was hers. No ordinary clothes would do-— Why, mercy, no! The air was blue! ‘And so, if she went out at all, She had to wear her furs, that’s all! “That's all’’ is right. She wore her furs, But any clothing else of hers I could not see. Her neck was bare, From white, goose-pimpled nape to where The furry boa showed against The blue-white bosom that it fenced From wintry breezes. I could see Her intercostal muscles—gee ! I saw her larynx and her sternum (The dictionary helped me learn ’em), Her collar bone, her thorax, too— These showed beneath her cutis blue. But still no chill could have been hers, Because, you know, she wore her furs! Her arms were bare to where the furs Came to those crazy bones of hers. I saw the parts of which one knows— The radius and ulna—those That lead up to the elbow joint- The furs, I say, reached to that point. Above her low-cut shoes I saw Her hose invisible (that’s raw !); The sleeve-like skirtlet had a slit Up to the knee—that’s all of it. For that fur boa and her muff Reached to her knees—I've said enough About those nutty clothes of hers. I told you, once, she wore her furs! —Strickland Gillilan, in Indianapolis Star, The Great Detective—The woman's per- turbation was pitiable. I must do something!’’ she insisted. it down,’’ suggested the great de- tective. She did so, seeming relieved, and im- mediately murmuring, as she looked at the remarkable man in wonder, ‘I never thought of that!’’ “But you came to see me about some- thing,’’ said the great detective. She started. “You know everything, don’t you?" she whispered, The great detective blushed over the length and breadth of his sharp features, for she had unwittingly put the truth very baldly, and the woman (an English woman he deduced from the fact that this was all happening in London) continued, “You are right. It is about my baby. T left the house at two o'clock this after- noon, after giving him his medicine and fastening all the doors and windows so that my darling might be perfectly safe, and at four o’clock, while I was shopping, Iremembered that instead of bay rum I had given the child a dose of benzine. I rushed back, but the child had disap- peared. No one could have entered the house, and the baby is almost too young to go out by itself. He is only four months old."’ “Benzine, eh?’’ mused the great de- tective. “Yes,’? she replied impatiently; ‘‘but that’s a mere detail."” “Don’t be too sure,’’ said the great de- tective. ‘‘Isn’t it just possible that the Creators child swallowed a lighted match and’’. But with a cry of annoyance the woman was bounding downstairs on her way home to count the matches.—Indianapolis Star. Just as Good—Skee—Mrs. De Rich com- mands a high salary. Ziz—I didn’t know she worked. She doesn’t; she bosses her hus- -Stanford Chaparral. band. Simplified—‘‘ Young Brooks is relieved of one trouble, anyhow.’” “What's that?”’ “He won't have to lie about his salary to the girl he’s going to marry. He works for her father.’’—Chicago Record-Herald, Homeward Bound When I appear, the lady lifts her skirt, Although her skirt will stand but little liftin’; The fellah in the flannels starts to shiftin’, Fer fear thet he will git a little dirt. You'd think thet it was checkers we was playin’, Fer ev'rybody seems to make a move; An’1 c’n hear the things thet they are sayin’— I know a workin’man they don’t.ap- prove. Fer I'm no parlor ornament, I guess, When I come ridin’ home upon the trolley. A sawmill carriage may be fine, but, golly! It isn’t noted fer its cleanliness. There’s always mud a-flyin’ from the nig- ger, There’s always sawdust floatin’ in the air, There's always grease—but you can't stop to figger On how you look er pause to comb your hair. Yes, fancy people pass me up of late; But, though fine feathers shun me, I should worry. It ain’t fer them at twilight home I hurry— There's some one sweeter waitin’ at the gate. There’s some one, when I’m comin’ home, to meet me, Though dudes an’ dames away from me may crawl; There's some one with a smile an’ kiss to greet me— . Fer she appears to like me, dirt an’ all! —Douglas Malloch, in American Lumber- man. The Medium—‘‘Is there any way of crossing the social chasm?"" “Sure! Bridge.’’—Harvard Lampoon, An Admirer’s Compliments Jackson, Miss., November 28th. Jupce, 225 Fifth Avenue, New York: Dear Jupce—If you could step out and look at yourself and realize the real and vast improvements in your humor, fun- making, appearance and general make-up, you would feel ‘‘some chesty’’—about one thousand percent. Keep itup! Besides, your humor is clean. A. G. Eyrich. In answering advertisements please mention JUDGE. It will be appreciated. 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