Judge — October 7, 1916 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

CLIMBED a mountain twelve miles high, whose snowy summit scraped the sky. “When I have reached the top,” I said, “before me doubtless will be spread a view so wondrous and so grand it certainly will beat the band.” And so I scaled the dizzy peaks, and climbed and climbed for seven weeks, reduced my garments to a wreck, and sprained my ankles and my neck. And other foolish tourists, too, were struggling up to see “the view,” and, as we toiled in misery, we talked of sights we hoped to see. One chilly morning saw us drop, exhausted, on the mountain top. Talk not of weariness, my friend, unless you've labored to ascend a mountain so absurdly steep the recollection makes you weep. I lay unconscious for a time, indifferent to sights sublime, and when I woke I found a mob of fakers busy on their job. One faker thundered, loud and clear, “I have some splendid relics here. These mountains, in the ages past, were peopled by anation vast; these folks, whose names are out of print, made household implements of flint; now, here’s a granite tableknife, used by some interglacial wife; and here’s a rolling-pin of stone, that you may proudly call your own, if you will dig up fifty cents—step this way with the money, gents!” A maiden seized me by the arm, a damsel of alluring charm. “Come with me,” softly said the maid, ‘and have a lifelike picture made.” A man was selling popcorn balls, and filled the air with caterwauls. And others dealt in lemonade, and pop of every kind and shade, and all were whooping up their wares, and barking for their divers lairs. I didn’t see the sights sublime—the fakers didn’t give me time. SoI went sadly down the hill, and never knew a pleasant thrill. I wonder if there’s any place where no cheap faker shows his face! I wonder if at Peter’s gate we can avoid the noisy skate who shakes the silence with his yell, announcing lemonade to sell! The Difference ‘Matrimony is a curious thing,” said the Globe Trot- ter. “In some of the Oriental countries a girl seldom sees her husband until she marries him.” “Tt is curious,” agreed the Mere Man. try she seldom sees him afterward.” “In this coun- HUMAN ORNITHOLOGY M*: are slangily called birds. Sometimes they are night owls and go out on larks. When a night owl has been out ona lark he doesn’t expect to arise with it. Also a night owl’s wife can make him quail. Jays are said to go to bed with the chickens. Most men are queer ducks. Sometimes these queerest ducks make awful geese of them- selves. Every man now and then impersonates an ostrich, though the meanest old pelican of us all expects to be a bird of paradise when he dies. A great many men have a dread of the stork. A man who would bitterly resent being called an old rooster is rather proud of being considered cock of the walk A woman doesn’t like to called an old hen, for hern, and you hadn’t better pullet on her. The lowest type of man is the gutter-snipe. He is not much lower, however, than the railbird at the race tracks. Also he is an own brother to the political cuckoo. Anyone who disagrees with any of the above is loony, and therefore not eligible to the Eagles—the poor coot! —Strickland Gillilan, Says J. Fuller Gloom: Moet poetry is not worth the paper it is rotten on. My early life was darkened by a cloud about the size of a woman’s hand clutching a slipper. An old maid has a hard time explaining that all the big ones got away while she was pulling them into the boat. I do not believe I have one real good friend left in the world. At least, nobody attempts to borrow money from me. I have heard a great deal about heart-to-heart talks, but the kind the average bore inflicts on me are thumb-to-rib talks. What would you think of a man who would deliberately send his brother-in-law to the poor house when he could just about as easily have sent him to the gallows? Clear Right of Way He—You've been through my pockets! She—What’s in ’em wouldn't hinder my going through. NOT UP TO EXPECTATIONS Doctor's wife—You used to say that I was worth my weight in radium Doctor—I've quit experimenting with radium. comicbooks.