Judge — December 25, 1915 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

Sartorial Fortifications MINISTER said the other day that he wears a white tie in public, not be- cause he cares to advertise his calling, but because he is saved in public places “many mental jars and ethical shi Men never swear in the presence of a white necktie.” Why isn’t this a bully idea for gereral adoption? Not that everybody objects to swearing nor to mental jars and ethical shivers. Indeed, swearing has little effect on most people, while mental jars and eth- ical shivers are at times positively delight- ful. Consequently those who feel that way should carefully avoid white tiesand continue to exhibit ine good old varicolored kind with hosiery and handkerchief to match. But there are other things to be avoided besides mental jars and ethical shivers. There are physical jars, for instance. If BETTER OR FOR WORSE there were a Sartorial Defense League, what would it prescribe to protect us from the man who thwacks us on the back in too familiar a manner? Would a silk hat be sufficient in such a case? Would the wear- ing of overalls be even better protection than a gun against the ambitious footpad? But those examples are very crude in com- parison with certain subtler situations from which we would like to be spared. What, for instance, could we wear to keep poets from reading us their own emotional meas- ures? What could we wear to prevent our wives at eventide from cataloguing all the petty details of a disordered household? What particular habiliment would prevent promoters from trying to sell us gold mines that do not exist? Somebody should make it his business to work these out scientific- ally. Indeed, our philanthropists could do much worse than to endow a Sartorial Defense Foundation. —E. 0. J. In Luck Mildred—I have only two girl enemies, and they don’t speak to each other. Josephine—How fortunate. Her Fear Nervous old lady (as train stops suddenly) —What’s the matter? Trainman—There is a two-hundred foot embankment here and a whole train just rolled down it. Nervous old lady—O dear; wasn’t ours. I hope it Retrospect OOK upon the year that’s dying . . . Have you pressed your imprint on it? Can you, now you stand and con it, Say you've done your share of trying? Have you bared your arms and worked Like Old Busiman next door, Or have you just stood and shirked, Being nothing but a bore? Did you make the old world brighter For yourself and for the others Of mankind whom we call brothers? Did you make your wife's tasks lighter? When affairs were in the rough Did you ease them up with joy? Did your neighbors say, “ You stuff!'"* Or, with pattings, “’Atta boy!” Did you grouch, and were you gloomy? Was your conduct ever shocking? When Dame Fortune missed her knocking Did you grunt “Won't she come to me?” Or did you get out and coax Better things to come your way; Get out with the toiling folks, Fetch the sun and make it stay? Take a look. And take it clearly; Would you change a single minute If you could again begin it? Was each spent for living, merely? If it were, then blot it out; Think of better things to do; Then, to New Year, face about . Now’s your chance to start anew. —A. Walier Utting. y he A man is also known by the com, avoids. comicbooks.com