Judge — December 19, 1914 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

THERE is a man—you know him well; in every village doth he dwell—who all the time and every day can dig up some- thing sad to say. The good, the beautiful, the fine, the things that others think divine, remind him that all flesh is grass, that all things must decay and pass. He shakes his head and wags his ears and sheds all kinds of briny tears and cries, ‘‘Alack and welladay! All flesh is grass, and grass is hay !"" He gazes on the blooming bride, who, in her beauty and her pride, is fairer than the fairest flower that ever charmed asum- mer hour. Wise people watch her with delight, and hope her future may be bright; they whisper blessings and declare that she is radiant and rare, and better feel for having seen so charming and so sweet a queen, But Croaker notes her brave array and sighs, ‘‘Her bloom will pass away! A few short years, and she'll be bent and wrinkled up, I'll bet a cent! The hair that looks like gold just now will soon be graying on her brow. She'll shrivel in this world of sin, and there'll be whiskers on her chin; and she will seem all hide and bone, a withered and obnoxious crone! I've seen so many brides before, with orange wreaths and veils ga- lore, and I have seen their glories pass—all flesh is grass, all flesh is grass!’ The people hear his tale of woe and murmur, ‘‘What he says isso!"’ For that’s the way with evil words; they travel faster than the birds. I go to see the football game, and note the athlete, strong of frame, his giant arms, his mighty chest, and glory in his youthful zest. It fires my ancient soul to see exultant youth, so strong and free. But some one at my elbow sighed—and there sits Croaker— dern his hide! “These youths,”’ he says, ‘‘so brave and strong, will all be crippled up ere long. If they're not slaughtered in this game, they'll all be bunged up, just the same. A few short ye and they will groan, with rheumatism in each bone; they'll all be lame in feet and knees, they'll have the hoof and mouth dis- ease, the mumps, the glanders and the gout. Go on, ye spring- alds, laugh and shout and play the game as best ye may, for youth and strength will pass away Like snow wreaths in the thaw they'll pass—all flesh is gi all flesh is grass!’" I bust him once upon the nose, I tie his whiskers to his toes, and, with an ardent, eager hoof, I kick his person through the roof. But he has spoiled my happy day; the croaker drives all glee away. Toy Soldiers OHNNY and Fritz were two nice little boys, Who had all of the latest inventions in toys— Cannons, projectiles of wood and of lead; Aeroplanes, to drop bombs from o’erhead; Soldiers, battalions of foot and of horse; Torpedo flotillas and warships, of course. “‘Oh, what shall we play now?" asked Johnny of Fritz. “My soldiers and sailors can beat yours to bits.'’ “Indeed, that they cannot!’’ cried Fritz, with a roar. “But since we've so many—say, John, let's play war."” Margaret G. Hays. Wiscisms How old is a woman born twenty-one years ago? We shall know each other better when the myths have cleared away. If Sherman had lived to-day, he would have hunted up a stronger word. It is a wise child that knows its own father's actual stand- ing as an athlete without consulting the records. It’s awfully funny to see a chronic grouch look disapprov- ingly at a disagreeable spell of weather, as if he intended doing something about it. Strickland Gillitan, Ominous Deacon Winters—Dominie, I don’t like to say it, but I think "twould be well to put Treasurer Meadows under bonds. Rev, Summers—Why so, deacon? I have always regarded Brother Meadows as scrupulously honest. Deacon Winters--That’s just it, dominie. He's gettin’ to be too blessed scrupulously honest. He’s makin’ a show of it. He's puttin’ all the little apples on top 0’ the barrels. Not To Speak of Libraries ‘*Pa, how do architects and builders make so much money “They make most of it, son, by insisting on putting billiard- rooms in houses where nobody ever plays billiards.”’ ” “MY EXPLORATIONS) my coms CULMS Tt | [COLUMBO S* CIGAR PERSONAL REMINISCENCES, (OP QUEEN ISABELLA” ADenEBION.