Judge — August 8, 1914 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

[we cater bie TOUR LIME OF _| BANNERS} veer eee dl foatae * | iinet sizes i = serves REFINED TRADE LADIES’ FURNISHING SHOP IN ENGLAND—CATERING TO THE FAIR SEX soare the shopkeepers! I ama little in awe of you, too, be- cause Fifth Avenue sounds so very imposing, almost more so than Park Lane in London, than the Avenue du Bois in this city or the ditto Louise in Brussels. By the way, you do seem to like the Avenue du Bois when you come over, don’t you? You get a rest from the shops there, and yet it’s always exciting, because of the way the dear little prize dogs get their strings mixed, while their aristo- cratic (of both Worlds, the real and the half) mammas stop to gossip; and the way they fight—snarling little popsy-wopsy darling brutes!—it’s as good as a circus to watch, especially when the fond mammas try to unmix them, hampered as they are by their clothes nowadays—the mammas, I mean, not the dogs. Have the white piqué waistcoats reached U in New York yet? They’re a regular uniform over here, and they're getting starchier and starchier every time the washing comes home; soon we sha'n't be able to bend at all when we're wearing them. Those of U who are over here seem to like the fashion all right, and you’ve gone in for the heavily stitched doeskin gloves, too, and the staff-like umbrella, and the hat that comes down over one eye like a horse’s blinker on one side and has a feather tickling the stars on the other, and the whiskerette curls plastered on each cheek, and the monocle, and all the rest of our female crazinesses! When I say U in this instance, I mean, of course, the Misses and Missus Us; U men would rather be skinned alive, I know (torture-skinned; not the way the hotel people do it), than change one collar stud’s worth of your usual attire! I've seen some Mister Us on the race course at Chantilly— where the Beauty and Chivalry of the metropolis gather—to quote the guide books—wearing their unmentionables girded up with the usual strap, their coats over their arms, floppy shirts, and their panama set at the angle that means: Starting for Coney Island by the ten o’clock train from the Bridge on a fine July Sunday morning! But we love you all the same, dear U. There’s a certain charm about your négligé, inasmuch as it sets off your rugged style of beauty to perfection, and we’re great on rugged beauty in Paris; besides, we’ve started a league for the suppression of stiff collars for afternoon wear in Town, so you see we are quite able to appreciate your home comforts when they are brought abroad. Now, maybe I have written enough for a first love letter. It’s almost that, isn’t it? I’ve been fulsomely flattering! Bah! When we're a little more acquainted, and I’ve got a headache and feel bad tempered, I guess I'll knock you, too! Meanwhile, adoo, dear U, adoo! Shake hands! I’m glad to have met you once more! Cause for Conceit “While I nave overcome a number of more or less vicious traits, habits and peculiarities during my somewhat extended and very likely entirely useless career,’’ volunteered Grout P. Smith, the disgruntled dissertationist, ‘‘I point with pride to but one of them, namely and to wit, boasting in a chastenedly triumphant way about having overcome my bad habits."’ Wonderful Panacea Madge—So the great specialist cured her of her nervousness? Marjorie—Yes; his fee was so large, she concluded she couldn’t afford to have it any more, comicbooks.com