Judge — April 8, 1916 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

“Max,” declared Henry, “I am thinking so much about vaca- tions now like an Eskimo about electric fans.”” “But you don’t know your sister!” complained Markowitz. “You might know her longer, but I know her better. She makes my life more bitter about the country than a hundred insurance agents with extra benefit policies for losing only one eye. I am breaking my head to find out what to tell her and for what to prepare.” “T’ve got an idea, suggested Henry. ‘Tell her the best place to go is a camp.” “A camp? What is a camp?” asked Markowitz. “A camp,” retorted Henry, “is a place where you sleep in the air, eat in the air and live in the air.” “What is it? A Zeppelin Hotel?” cried Markowitz. “No, Max,” explained Henry. ‘A camp is a place where a bunch of people get together with nature like old friends who never endorsed any notes for each other or met for a long time. The throw up tents by the water and live like Roosevelt in Africa, without the lions. Morning and night they go around in bathing suits, and never put on fancy clothes. Tell Minnie you should go toa camp and she won’t bother you about preparedness. There’s nothing to prepare.” “But what kind of a country is it, when you don’t prepare? Look at that!” said Markowitz, pointing to a glaring headline of a fellow passenger’s newspaper. “You sce it stands in words as big as umbrellas that Wilson, the President himself, said that ‘Prepared- ness is the first need of a country’!” “Sure, Max,” said Henry, “when a country begins to prepare it just commences to be in need; but the country what you are talking about and what President Wilson means is so different, like day from night. You mean Atlantic City and he means Bethlehem, Pa. There is so much preparedness around that it is hard not to get your countries mixed. Iam commencing to think I am in Germany; but the next station is Prospect Avenue. Tell Minnie to pre- pare a strudel like I like it. I’m coming around Friday. Good night, Max. I got to get off,” and the car door almost got his coat- tail off as well. George W. Ant, Exemplar BOOK we all respect sufficiently and read insufficiently says. “Go to theant, thou sluggard. Consider her ways and be wise.”” Whether the sluggard ever made this antward hike depended entirely upon how far away said ant was at the time. We used to know a village cut-up out in Indiana who said, “Go to thy aunt,” etc., but let that pass. Let us now briefly consider the ant, and some of the advantages we might obtain if we really considered her ways and were copy-cats. One of the chief advantages the ant has over human beings is that it is born full grown. The parents lug the beggar around in his shell until the shell grows larger than the parent, and then said shell is removed and presto, anto! There stands a big, soft, helpless hulk who sometimes loafs around as much as fifteen minutes, feeling trifling and groggy before he goes to work lugging the chassis of a defunct worm around in his mandibles and acting like a regular sho-nuff honest-t’-goodness ant. Think what we should miss if we were born full-grown! Teething. colic, going to kindergartet id grade schools, being chucked under the chin, catnip tea, spankings, dancing school, having our cars washed, and every- thing like that. We here go on record as toour com- plete willingness to go to the ant thou sluggard; or rather to have done so, if it had been made clear to us carly enough in life to have arranged for us to be born fully grown and thus to escape measles, whooping - cough, mumps, rash, chic ken - pox, cube-root, scarlet fever and other diseases. Strickland Gil- lilan sa rerbesen, This bird that walks about asleep Has thoughts unusually deep, And now he’s musing on the fact That ice can’t tinkle till it's cracked; Don Auger ce 2S comicbooks.com