Judge — January 3, 1914 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

Selfish oo | WANT to tell you,”’ said the Most Selfish Car Owner, ‘‘that I’ve been driving around this neighborhood and out into the country for five years now, and I've made some speed, too, and all that; but I’ve always been so careful that I’ve never so much as picked up a dog or a chicken.”” “Or a friend,’’ suggested a Voice. Dow Augur. Song of the Joy Rider The heathen has his idols, The Hottentot his queen; But give to us the guy who put ‘The gas in gasoline. Working the Stops Novice—What is the distinction be- tween the brake pedal and the acceler- ator pedal? Chauffeur—They do look a lot alike, and the difference is best learned by experience. For instance, suppose you are driving along a country road. You turn a sharp corner and find a huge, fallen tree blocking the way. If you put your foot on the brake, you stop DICKERING Salesman—Here's a marvelous car! Seventy borse-power—six thousand five hundred dollars. Customer-—M-m! Let's see if we can't get a lit- slowly-—— tle nearer sixty-five hundred horse-power for seventy Novice—Yes. dollars, Chauffeur—Whereas, if you push . down the accelerator, you stop much The Day of Rest more quickly. <J ILLOWS of dust to blue . heaven ascending, Some people do not need an automobile KS Effacing the landscape from to keep up the pace. view; A Race HREE cars were entered in a race. Two had a minute’s start, And, though they set an awful pace, They soon fell far apart. For hours round the track they sped, Soclosetooneanother You couldn’t tell which was ahead, Nor one car from the other. With flying dust the air grows dense. Crash! There goes a tank! A car went skidding through a fence And overran the b a n k. Amid it all two cars tore on. Each from the wreck did swerve, But one went clean through Perkins’s barn, Describing quite a The other car came on pellmell. ’Twas either hit or miss. A tire burst, and, sad to tell, It landed just lik —Otty Nedham Frankfort. Outshining Crabshaw— You always told me you hated motor cars. Now, why in the world do you insist on one? Mrs. Crabshaw—That woman next door asked her husband for one, and he said they couldn’t afford it. trils offending, Outsmelling a caldron of glue. ~ Sounds that the devil him- self hath invented, From rumbles like far thunder’s roll To hair-raising shrieks of a being de- mented Or the wail of a tortured soul. F Maliferous odors the nos- The place? Any suburb. Time? Any holiday, When the wind isn’t overly keen. The cause? Just the city folk out for a jolly day, : In any old kind of machine. One-lunger, two-lunger, de-bodied chas- sis, Motor bikes, taxicabs, trucks, Limousines, runabouts—anything that you please, Driven by old and young bucks. The butcher, the baker, the buttonhole maker, Their uncles and cousins and aunts, The doctor, the lawyer, the grim under- taker— P. S.—and the ambulance! —Mauricé Switzer. THE MIRAGE PTs TE comicbooks.com