Judge — September 9, 1916 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

mountain like a dress pattern, and we went up gaily one afternoon and had refreshments on the top. The trouble was we stayed too long, or the storm came up too soon, but in few minutes everything was plunged in darkness, the rain fell, the wind blew. ~The women wer and screamed. I didn’t. Texulted. Could lovers get a better chance to cling together for the last time than amid the tumult of the elements? The storm didn’t stop for hours, and then we got lost and had to spend the night on the moun- tain. It was soppy, sobby and soporific. I slept. by snatches. About midnight, | wakened by the sound of a man’s voice saying anx “Darling, are you all right?” It was Peter Cartner’s glorious bass Now I would hear Edith Redding’s flutelike reply. my amazement it was Mrs. Cartner who answered: Yes, Peter.” “Well,” he went on savagely, “ if we ever get through this e we'll put two hundred miles in between us and that officious towhead of a proprietor's niece. Here I've spent two solid weeks mooning round in corners listening to the driveling jabber of a former chorus girl who once stole a wad of bills from me. Can you beat it when you remember that I've looked forward for three years to these weeks with you, with the great- hearted woman who lifted me out of drunkenness to decency, looked forward to hours and hours of companionship with you——" The girl means no harm,” she murmured. “She judges people by their faces. And yours and mine——” Suffering Syphons!” he cried. ‘Does the Lord mate noses or natures? I’ve kept quict only because you begged me to. But now I’m going to tell her the truth. I'm going to tell her——” “What? what ? Oh Peter——” “Yes,” he raged with fearful brutality She shall know that this is our honeymoon.” Of course my spirit lies in a swoon of bitter disappointment, I sat up with a thrill. But to —Blast it! PRE-ARRANGED * Didn't you find it an awful nuisance planning your vacation, old top >” “Not me. My boss told me when to go, and my wife told me where.” well give up romance and come back to the So I'll return to you soon, dear Affectionately yours, Betty Burts. but I might commonplace and the vulgar. May HOME, SWEET HOME ’ ID pleasures and palaces, wherever I roam In view of the terrible leak in the dining-room ceiling, the missing clapboards on the north side, the impossible refrigerator, the furnace that needs a new boiler and the worn-out rugs in the front hall There's no place quite like home. Be it ever so humble, Still, considering the marine cellar, the shaky old vint of-49 parlor chandelier, the horrible old horse-hair sofa that needs recovering, the gas range that blows up periodically, the bald-headed grass plot in front and the superannuated garage behind, I have no hesitation in remarking that There's no place quite like home. Lines to a Faithful Friend THE SUBWAY “Tl be glad to get off your foot, sir, if you'll show me which one it is.” EHOLD my well of ink. What wonders are concealed therein, I think! t poems, weighty novels, sombre tomes On Science, Music, Law; my fancy roams Still farther: Immortality lies th Making that pool of black her Stygian lair; Vrom out its waves an Ethiop Venus might Start upward, full-born, struggling into light, Dripping with sable spray. My strongest link With Fame art thou, O Ink! And yet, O Ink, One virtue hast thou that T cannot blink: Great thoughts hide in thee, secking but a vent, ‘The Heavenly Nine couch on thy sediment, Prison’d, and eager-waiting their release; Noble art thou with contents such as these. But when T tremble at the Landlord's beck, And write my signature across a cheque, ‘Thine other virtues into nothing shrink, \nd GREAT art thou, O Ink!—F. Gregory Hartswick. How It Was Friend—Will your salary be paid just the same, Rastus, now that you are going to war? Rastus—Well, my wife'll keep right on workin’, if dat’s what yo’ mean.