Judge — December 2, 1916 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

COLONEL BEANFUGLE ON EXPERIENCES “ STMAS,” observed Colonel C c is one of the numer- ous experiences of life that should never be allowed to become com- mon. In fact there should be no such thing as a common experience of any kind. If we could only persist in look- ing upon all our daily experiences as uncommon, the ultimate in pleasure might be wrested from life. Ifa person only makes up his mind to it, he can secure the most exquisite pleasure out of any trifling every-day experience. For instance, when I come down to break- fast, instead of thinking that I am going through a common experience let me put myself in the place of an individual who is looking for the first time upon white table linen, silver, glass and crockery. Just let me imagine that Iam Hal Le Bocuf, a medieval baron, transplanted suddenly from ancient and barren halls to this none too modern and expensive dining apartment of ours.” “You might let your imagination run a little further and pretend you are handling real silver instead of the old plated set you bought me for a wedding present,” said Mrs. Beanfugle. “As this individual suddenly cata- pulted out of medieval times right into the midst of our civilization,” went on the colonel_in an unruffled voice, “I look upon this marvelous array of breakfast dishes, and handle this amazing silver and glassware. When the viands are brought on I get the most exquisite pleas- ure out of their strange taste.” “You conceal your pleasure pretty well, for you've kicked about the coffee for a week.” “When I get on the street car to go to work in the morning I imagine I am an individual who has never had such a ride before. Think of what a wonderful thing a strect car must be to an individ- ual who never has scen one.”” “If you'd only make a little more money you might get a thrill out of run- ning your own automobile, instead of getting so much excitement out of a mere street car,” interposed Mrs. Beanfugle. By ARTHUR CHAPMAN “Then when I get down-town,” went on the colonel loftily, “I get a perfect procession of marvelous impressions. I imagine I am Ab the cave man looking at sky-scrapers, clectric signs, dairy lunches, newspapers, crossing policemen, motors, shop windows and the like. When I come across the simplest thing, I ask myself: ‘What if I never had seen this before?’ and as a result nothing is too commonplace to attract my attention and hold my interest. I had a most delectable half hour yesterday in front of a pop-corn stand. I asked the man in the stand the same questions I imagine a Fiji Islander would ask the first time he had come in contact with a pop-corn dispensary. When I showed childish de- light over the little steam whistle on his wagon, he threatened to summon the near- est policeman andI was forced = to move away | and play my innocent game elsewhere.” “The — pop- corn man is to be commended for his good sense, which is more than I can say of you,” re- marked Mrs. Beanfugle. “Suppose I was so amazed at the sight of a broom that I stood looking at ithalf a day and neglected to get my houseclean- ing done. If I had that electric sweeper you have promised me for the last three years, no doubt the mere sight of any- thing so ultra- modern would overcome me so that I could not push it around the floors. What would happen if I stood in such rapt contemplation of my kitchen utensils that I failed to get dinner on time? You'd be threatening to get a divorce. I suppose when you get to your office you are so amazed at those old law books and that battered old furniture and those second-hand rugs that you can’t work.” “Right now,” said Colonel Beanfugle after a pause of some duration, “I am en- deavoring to imagine that I am undergo- ing my very first criticism from my wife. It is rather hard to reduce so common an occurrence to an uncommon basis, but the experience is proving very——” The colonel’s philosophical observa- tion was never finished, for Mrs. Bean- fugle had beaten a dignified retreat. —_—, HOW A GOLFING FAMILY PREPARES FOR SANTA CLAUS comicbooks.