Judge — November 3, 1917 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

HOWDO YU EXPECT ME TO cin A Leng FIRE rTHd NDED MITTENS? Furnace Mittens By DON HEROLD 2R we were married, one of the first things we bought was a pair of furnace mittens. We kept them on a shelf in the cellar stairway In a short time we lost one of them, and had to buy a new pair. Then we had three. Twe of them were left-handed. In a short time, we lost our right-hand mitten. We tried to use the remaining two as a pair, but it is irritat- ing to try to wear a left-hand mitten on a right-hand hand. It gives you the sensation of breaking the backbone of some: thing ever you put it on So, since furnace mittens cost only ten or fifteen cents a we bought another - Now we had four. The new ones had brown wristbands, two or three inches long. After these brown bands became a little dirty, we found that they soiled our cuffs. After a little debate we decided to get a new pair, as short as possible. We did. This pair was satisfactory, and we used them quite awhile. But it doesn’t take a furnace mitten very long to get as dirty on the inside as it is on the outside, so we soon had to another pair. The new ones had gauntlets, like automobile gloves, and we thought they were dashing, and we imagined ourselves really enjoying furnace work with gloves like these. But they soiled our cuffs even worse than the ones with the brown wristbands. While we were debating about buying a new pair of furnace mittens, our wife discovered the hiding place of the first two mittens we had lost. They were in a thick layer of dust and soot under the cellar steps. One of the mittens with brown wristbands was with them. We now had a pretty large pile of mittens on the shelf in the cellar stairw and it seemed a shame to buy more. So each time we went to the basement, thereafter, the re- mainder of that winter, we got along the best we could. When we went to the basement it might be with a right-hand brown- wristed glove on our left hand and a short-wristed left-hand glove on our right-hand hand, dirty on the inside. The second winter, we started out with a fresh new pair. For some time we could distinguish them easily from the others. They stood out from the crowd, in their virginal cleanliness. Then one of them disappeared. It wasn’t under the steps (although we found two others there, for which we were not looking) and it wasn’t anywhere. The next day we bought two pairs. going to the store for mittens. Ti now passed. We will not go into the de- tails of the history of all our mittens. We have had several days of rain, lately, in our part of the buy We were getting tired of country, and this morning our wife suggested that it might be a good thing to build a little fire in the furnace, to take the damp out of the house. If there is anything a man hates to do, it’s that—build a furnace fire in midsummer. or almost midsummer. On the shelf—on the furnace mitten shelf—there were seven left-handed furnace mittens. We had some leisure, so we in- voiced them carefully. Oh, who— WHO will furnace mitten! furnace mitten. If there is anything that makes a man cringe, it’s breaking the back of a wrong-handed furnace mitten! nvent a furnace mitten that WHO, WHO will, as it were, universa isn’t a one way ¢ the PLAYING SAFE IN CHINA [OW-HOW, philosopher, sat in his wicker rocker before his tea store in Amoy reading the morning edition of the Yawp-High, and seeing that a republic had been proclaimed at three o'clock that morning in Pekin, he carefully removed the flag with the dragon from his window and put on view the standard of the republic. And Low-How smiled the smile of all-knowing, and looked at the bald head of Chowmain, which rose in the distance 17,000 feet. As the sun reached the zenith Low-How, still in his rocker, bought the noon edition of the Yawp-High, and read that China had become an empire at precisely 11 A.M. He arose and placed the flag with the dragon carefully over the standard of the republic And again Low-How smiled the smile of all-knowing and fixed his eye on Chowmain s the sun westered Low-How closed his shop and carefully removed both flags from the window, for he knew not what the night would bring forth in the matter of governments. And Low-How smiled the smile of all-knowing, and winked at Chowmain as homeward he trudged. —Benjamin De Casseres. Nobody thinks much of the man who throws a handjul of coppers into the street. But at least he sees happiness they make. A personal gift, stith your name in it, will mean a lot to some boy in the trenches on Christmas. Fifty cents will send him a box of good things. Send your money in to the Trench Christmas fund and Jove. will do the rest comicbooks.com