Judge — October 9, 1915 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

Stories with Smiles ing Back At the Priest—An was reproved by his priest for ing sausages on Friday. ; *Sure, Father Tim, ye don’t call sausages 2” he protested. os | “Certainly they are meat,” said his ree ext day the Irishman appeared at riest’s house with a load of sawdust. ‘But, Michael, I did not order any saw- dust; it was wood I ordered.”” “And isn’t it wood I’ve brought ye?” 4No, it isn’t; it’s sawdust.” “But, Father Tim, if sausage is meat, gure isn’t sawdust wood?”—Boston Tran- sift. One on the Water Wagon—The alfalfa delegate was paying his first visit to acity of any size Standing along the side- walk, he chanced to see a sprinkling cart coming down the street, and no sooner had he set eyes on the thing than he began to like the boy at a minstrel show. “Say, old pal,” re remarked hilariously, punching a cop in the ribs, “‘don’t that just 8) P J “Don’t what beat all?” responded the wondering cop. “What's the joke?” “Just look at that feller on that wagon!” replied the alfa'fa party, pointing to the sprinkler. “That derned chump won't have a drop of water left by the time he gets home!" —Philadelphia Telegraph. A Long Wait—The self-made man stalked into the office of a great financier with whom he had an appointment. “You probably don’t remember me,” he began, “but twenty years ago, when I Was a poor messenger boy, you gave me a to carry—” “Yes, yes!” cried the financier. “Where’s the answer?” —Argonaut. Lucky Man—The prisoner threw the magazines across his cell in disgust, and cursed eloquently. “Nothin’ but continued stories,” he gowled, “an’ I’m to be hung next Tuesday.” —Chicago Herald. Change for the Better—“We were ing along,” said a recent traveler on akeal South African single line railway, “at the rate of about seven miles an hour and the whole train was shaking terribly. I Gpect d every moment to sce my bones Potruding through my skin. Passengers Were rolling from one end of the car to the cher. I held on firmly to the arms of the sat. Presently we settled down a bit queter; at least I could keep my hat on ud my teeth didn’t chatter. was a quiet looking man opposite me. I looked up with a ghastly smile, Wishing to appear cheerful, and said: rs We are going a bit smoother, I see.’ “Yes,’ he said, ‘we're off the track now.’” Chicago News. \zaming his Tip—‘Now, guard,” said ft. Pilkington to the English railway of- ee mann, }over of a good cocktail should insist that Abbott's pad ia Making it; insures your getting che ver Set CW. Abbott & Cor, Baltimore, Md. eS O, Henry has come to permeate American life, Wherever you go—whatever you read—you meet, news stories from the war, there O. Henry. In 11 years old and so thin and so tired—so much work and so little to eat—no wonder the poor child lost heart when they took from her that last comfort—the old copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. But she knew the stories by heart; so when this rider came to the rescue she recognized himatonce as the Fairy Prince. Itisa wonderful story, full of surprises, full of the charm and the love that has made this country a slave to O. HENRY With sure, swift strokes he drives his story home. Never a word is wasted. 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