Judge — February 10, 1917 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

i HAT has become of the old-time dad, who used a club on his erring lad? You must remember the long gone days, and your schoolboy tricks, and your tru- n ant ways; you must remember returning home, what time ‘ the gloaming began to gloam. You had trembling limbs and t your soul was sick, for dad was there with his large birch stick. He lammed the dust from yeur pants and shirt, and, Jiminy Jupiter, how it hurt! 4 The old time fathers are now no more. There is no cudgel " behind the door, no wholesome strip from a cedar rail; there i hangs no strap from the kitchen nail. Now, whether the boys are better lads, who are not whaled by indignant dads, is one conundrum at which I shy; perhaps you're willing to make reply. What has become of the old time dame, who spent long hours o’er her quilting frame, who baked such bread as the gods might cat, if heaven were given to growing wheat! At making pies she had queenly curves; she took a pride in her quince preserves; ji she made the gowns that she wore to kirk, she thought time lost when she didn’t work. She knew all tricks of the household game. What has become of that dear old dame? The old time home we behold no more; no figtre 4 its modest door. We live in flats, in artments”” eat our hay in the large hotels. Now, whether the girls are better dames, who pass up work for the bridge whiSt games, is one conundrum so / truly great, I make no guesses—it’s charged with % 4 What has become of the old-time town, that sunk to | sleep when the sun went down? You knew it well in the an- j cient time, ere age had covered your hair with rime. At I nine o'clock we were all in bed, and the lights were out, and the town was dead. The pastor censored our youthful glee, and the wildest rout was a spelling be The modern town that’s awake all night, that spreads itself in a glare of light—does, it improve on the old- time plan? You have three guesses, oh, Mr. Man! His Desire “Can I mail an infernal machine here?” sternly demanded J. Fuller Gloom of the pale clerk in the post-office. “I want to send my nephew's accordion to him w Model Jamie (reading paper)—Pa, what's a supersedeas? Pa—Search me! Ours is a super-six AN AWKWARD SITUATION ROSPERITY, head high and pockets bulging, was saun- P tering gaily down the street when he met Highcostof- living. The minute he saw him, his face flushed and hisswhole frame shook with a mighty indignation. “What are you doing here?” he demanded hotly. “I might with equal propriety ask the same of you replied Highcostofliving, trying his very best to control himself. “Don't you know that you and I can’t dwell in the same communit went on Prosperity, threatening the other with his massive gold-headed cane. “The logic of the situation would certainly seem to inhibit such an eventuality,” rejoined Highcostofliving in well modu lated tones, “but have you ever noticed how often logic is con- tradicted by bald facts? Logically it is impossible for you and me to come anywhere near one another, yet here we are. Strange, isn’t it? Ha! Ha!” Stop that levity!” roared Prosperity. ‘‘And get out of here! What will people think? They'll think I’m a fake and hypocrite. That's what they'll think.” “Well, so far as that goes, my dear fellow, you will ha admit that you are not always just exactly what you appear to be on the surface.” Insufferable boor!” expostulated Prosperity. “I. veril believe you have come around for the sole purpose of humili- ating me. Begone at once or I will have the law on you.” *You can’t have the law on me, my dear fellow. You must remember I am Highcostofliving. Highcostofliving is a necessity and necessity knows no law. I give you fair warning. Lam your sworn enemy and I will dog your footsteps forever- more.” Ellis O. Jones. Perhaps Mother—Do you believe in forbidding the children’s high school fraternities? Father—Well, mother, sometimes L think they would be almost as popular if they weren't forbidden. Uncle Eben—How’s your nephew doing in college? Unde Ezra—Pretty good, I guess. He writes me that he is a senior. Uncle Eben—Huh. He'll find out that them dago titles won't do him any good after he gets out SOME HOME MILLINERY IN DIXIE LAND comicbooks.com