Judge — May 6, 1916 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

From a Sinner’s Diary A NEIGHBOR boy's mother worries be- cause he’s out nights. She doesn’t know whether he gambols or gambles. I know a woman who's homely, but such a beautiful homely. She's like her mince pies, that don’t taste like a combination of dull knife, tough meat, rickety table, and other things she wanted to save, with raisins far apart as the boulevard lights, but just like spot cash. Just got a letter from a man that I couldn’t make out. Neither could he. But I know what he meant, if he didn’t. I'm getting old and worldly. I can see from here. I used to want to go fishing with my beloveds and give them the entire catch, no matter how big and speckled the pickerel. Now I prefer going alone, or with some of my family, and having all the fish, even to a one-pound red-fin sucker. How out of tune with all nature a cow- ard is. . There goes a motorcycle with a bath- tub attachment. Where you goin’ to end when your Drake breaks? I know a boy who wishes he were an autumn leaf so he could fall in front of some girl and be carried home and pressed. Some are mated like sugar tongs and granulated sugar. My landlady is making her a blue room to sit in when her renters skip prematurely. It seems as if washday comes oftener than the postman. What fools we are to love! It only furnishes a key to have our hearts laid waste. Knowing what Ought To Be does not always antidote What Is. When the soul is in hell, the body is hound to soon tag along. [ like to eat coffee and graham crackers just as long as they and I hold out. Here’s something to compare some- thing to when I get it to compare: “Sounded like blowing ants out of a plum.” Here’s another: “Runs in the family, like wooden legs.” Life—a tiresome burden whose rewards are yet more burdensome. Bawling babes can’t muddle movies. When you don’t know what to say, how would it do to say what you think? We can’t help but kind 0’ judge Heaven by the ambassadors it sends out. Keep your heads cool, dears. My cel- luloid toothbrush inches from the exploded yesterd I know a preacher who wants the cream without doing the milking. It takes a head to tat, but it’s not much of a one to want to.—Lynetle Freemire. TO BE CONTINUED “Well, Anbur, are you through crying, pow?” “No, I ain't through. I'm just resting. Ge Her Fancies NCE she on modelling was bent, But soon her tools she quit; Then o'er her music hours she spent But soon grew sick of it. In china-painting then for days Some happiness she found; And then she caught the dancing craze, But soon on that she frowned. Then woman’s rights became her fad, But soon she laughed thereat; And then the scribbling itch she had, But soon she tired of that. Now love's to her the only thing And soon we'll wedded be, But somehow I keep wondering How long she'll stick to mef —Nathan M. Levy. Feminine Eccentricity “Some feller left a sample copy of a newspaper at our house a couple of weeks ago, and ever since then my wife has been reading ‘right sharply,” related Mr. Gap Johnson, of Rumpus Ridge, Ark. “I didn’t say anything to her, for it don’t pay to be too pertickler with a woman. And it looked like all her reading finally soaked in,- for night before last she said she was a suffragette.” “*A which?’ says 1. “A suffragette,’ says she. ““Uh-huh!’ says I. ‘What do you want me to do about it?’ “«T want my rights!’ says she. “Well, go ahead and have ’em!’ says I. ‘I hain’t got the least objection in the world.’ “And ‘pears like she’s been mad at me ever since for not trying to keep ’em from her. Women are powerful quaint that- a-w I’ve been living with this one ever since I can remember, mighty near, and I ain’t onto her convolutions till plumb yet!” —Tom P. Morgan. comicbooks.com