Judge — October 2, 1915 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

PAUSI “She’s went away,” said Father. “Oh!” said the young man, crestfallen. “Yup,” said Father. The dogs and pups set up a howl, and speedily ruined our young friend’s lavender trousers by their attentions. “Why—er— Why?—er—” “She got lone- some—she went up to Saneville, and got married, day befo’ yistiddy.” “Saneville!” gasped the young mam He realized in a flash that in Saneville, a non-dog community a few miles up the river, lived the only rival who ever had had a look-in with Kitty. “Send her my regards,” he uttered dis- mally, and fled from the premises in shame, with twenty dogs at his heels. The rain had suddenly ceased, and five hundred dogs crowded him into the gutter on his way up the street. ‘He knew, he knew that Kitty had loved him better by far than ever she had loved his rival. . . . . . . (And up in Saneville, Kitty, married, but unhappy, was crying her eyes out.) Kitty’s real lover drowned himself in the Silent River, and thousands of dogs howled his requiem. Moral: If you tolerate a yelping nui- sance, it will get you yet. NG FOR Perversity . I TOLD her she had aster eyes, And lips as crimson as the maple; She looked at me in grave surprise, Remarked my similes were staple. I bade her know her foot was light Asis the fawn’s, that woodland roamer; She stated, though I might be right, The saying was as old as Homer. I spoke about her sumach lips, And of her white throat like a lily, Then felt a sudden heart-eclipse, For she averred that I was silly. But when I whispered that her voice From trouble was a sweet entrancer, And made the soul of me rejoice, She didn’t even deign to answer. I nigh despaired, I will admit; I was downcast, dejected,—very, For I'd exhausted all my wit, And almost my vocabulary. But when I clasped her, scorning fear, Grown through exasperation bolder, She murmured, “You are just a dear!” She put her head upon my shoulder. —Clinton Scollard. His Size The judge—You say your wife assaulted you with a dangerous and deadly weapon? What was it? Mr. Peewee—It was a fly swatter, your honor. Not in His Line She—You must give him credit for the fact that he expresses his ideas beautifully. He—But you see I am a freight agent! REFLECTION Chopping Him Off 66 A H, HOW do you do, sir!” deferen- tially began an imposing looking stranger, extending his card. “Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. J. Fuller Gloom?” “Not being able to diagnose your sensa- tions I can’t say about the pleasure part but I’m Gloom,” returned the well-known pessimist. “I note by your card that you are Mr. G. D. Newsance, representing Klutch & Skinner, publishers of subscrip- tion books. It is a fact that admits of no contradiction that I am one of the very few people in this community of sufficient culture to appreciate the rare and ornate literary works which you are introduc- ing. And permit me to add that I am of sufficient intelligence not to care a tinker’s anathema about them. Good day, Mr. Newsance!”” The Way It Goes “Tf you are too stout,” said the physician, “eat less, take more exercise, avoid sweets, eggs, cream and fat meat. Live mainly on lettuce, spinach, Jean meats, celery, to- matoes and so forth. If you cease giving your body fat-making foods you will cease creating fat cells. It is very easy to reduce if ¢ou will practice self-denial.” “Pardon me, Doctor; but do you follow the regimen you have just mentioned?” inquired the patient. “You are a trifle stout, you know, and——” “T give advice, my dear sir,” replied the honest Esculapian, “not take it!” comicbooks.com