Judge — July 21, 1917 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

WOMAN'S PRECARIOUS HEALTH HEN isa woman ill? And how is a member of her family —especially a male member—to be sure of it? So long as she has only her husband to talk to, she is the embodiment of ailments and hard luck. (I think I hear some sweet sotto voce murmuring to the effect that any woman with only her husband to talk to is indeed in hard luck, but I'll let that pass.) She will be prostrate on her spinal column, redolent of camphor, gulping an aspirin capsule with every other swallow, talking in an invalidistic voice, having her meals carried to her, and enjoying a perfectly authentic and convincing illness, when the tele- phone rings. She can’t go to the ‘phone. Perish the thought! Someone who is busy at something else because of her illness has to go and ans' It is Mrs. Begosh. As soon as the invalid hears the name, she says, briskly, “Tell her I'm coming to the 'phone. She musn’t know I'm ill!” So she gets up, wrapped in a bathrobe, shuffles in a pair of mules (should one say a span, in this case?) to the instrument, and says, laughingly, ‘Good morning, lady.” Then, “Oh, just fine! How are you?” And “O, certainly I’m coming! Do you know—I suppose, ha ha, I should be ashamed of it—but I had it in my head this was Wednesday! I knew your bridge was Thursday, of course. So glad you called me. G-0-0-d b; Then, without embarrassment, she goes back to her room puts away the electric pad that was solely sustaining her life and helping her eke out a few more tragic’ hours, dresses in tight clothes that would kill a man in five hours, g out and drives the car to Mrs. Begosh’s, where she is the picture of health and the life of the party, eats lobster salad and candy and other indelicacies, and comes home fit as a fiddle. After a long look at the social calendar, she may probably have another bad attack. A woman can have a sprained ankle for the fe limping the moment she knows she is observed of Mrs. Poobah, who would get unholy joy from seeing her a cripple. She can have a raging headache and change from agony to sweetness the moment she gets into the presence of a woman she admires or hates. Now how is the family, especially the male members who have had no actual experience in being females themselves, to know when she is genuinely ill and needing sympathy? How, in other words, are they to know when the flush of fever on her cheek is nothing but a four-f ? nily, and quit Strickland Gillilan. There Are Birds and Birds Hokus—Tottie Twinkletoes says she doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive. Pokus—A bird, ch? Well, I had her out to supper last night, and she ate—say, maybe she meant an ostrich. STICKLERS THe tolerant gentleman of our table party says that most men are too much inclined to be sticklers for small matters. So thought Wes, the waiter of ebon at the old Utopia. There camein a gentleman who was a connoisseur of lamb chops. ‘Yhe gentleman ordered lamb chops. ves said, “ Yes'ir.” he gentleman ordered the lamb chops breaded a particular way. Wes said, “ Yes’ir.” The gentleman ordered the lamb chops cooked a particular way. Wes said, “Yes'ir.” The gentleman ordered the lamb chops served a particular way. Wes said, “ Yes'ir.” “No said the gentleman, “hurry up with those lamb chops. Wes said, “Yes'ir. Now, boss, we ain’t got adzactly as you might say LAMB chops, but we’s got some mighty fine 4 — Dixon Merrit. Bored bridge guard—Gee! If only the Central Powers and Bulgaria Turkey would get together and storm this bridge . . . . I could almost bear the thought of another bour here!