Judge — May 18, 1918 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

SPECULATION Source of Friction—* Pardon me for asking you about your war garden, but is it proving what you thought it would be?” “Yes,” replied Mr. Jibway, bitterly. “I’m not on speaking terms with any- body in my neighborhood.”—Birming- ham Age-Herald. Took a Chance—A stranger strolled into a village in England where consider- able excitement was prevailing. “May I ask what is going on in the village?” he inquired. “We're celebrating the birthday of the oldest inhabitant, sir,” replied the native. “She’s a hundred and one today.” “And tell me, pray, why does that little man by the old lady’s side wear such a dreadfully sad countenance on such an auspicious occasion?” “That little man, sir, is the old lady’s son-in-law. He’s been keeping up her life insurance for the last thirty years.” — Argonaut. They Differed—‘I think you need fresh air.” “The other doctor told me I needed salt air.”—Louisville Courier-Journal. A Snap for Son—“Do you find that poultry keeping pays?” “Well, no; I can’t say that it pays me, but it my boy.” “How's that?” “Well, you see, I bought him the fowls. I have to pay for their keep and buy the eggs from him and he eats them.” —Boston Transcript. At the Point of a Glance Mille fois de vos yeux Plus mortels sont les feux ’Twas ever the bright eyes, not the bullets, that wrought the greater havoc!—La Baion- neste (Paris). Que ceux de la mitraille Au fort de la basaille! The Supreme Commander Camexiere—Il Signore comanda? L’emaxcirata—Il! Signore non comanda, comando io. Waiter—Order, sir? The Greater Half—I am the one who gives all orders, I'll have you know!—/I 420 (Florence). | SCANDAL At the Head of His Class—“ Well,” said the square-jawed old gentleman who was a member of sixteen boards of directors and the payer of an income tax that gave him the chills every time he thought of it, “go on. I’m anxious to hear why you think you are good enough for my daughter.” “T’m afraid,” Percival Paxton replied, “that I’m not good enough for her. No man is good enough for her.” “Um! Perhaps not. Let that pass for the present. What have you ever done to make yourself fit to be my son-in- law?” “T graduated at the head of my class in college.” “You'll have to give me a better reason than that.” “TI have never tasted a cocktail nor smoked a cigarette.” “All right—that’s something. But it ain’t enough.” “T began working for $10 a week and am now making $5,000 a year.”” “Pretty fair. Let’s hear some more.” “As you doubtless know, I’m a lawyer. A few daysagoa lady who possessed a bun- dle of letters which you had written to her called on me. In most of them you ad- dressed her as ‘Dear Baby.’ I offered her $10,000 for them. I have until to- morrow to produce the money.” “You say you graduated at the head of your class?” “Yes.” “Well, sir, I’ve never told anybody about it before, but I always have hoped Bessie would marry a scholar.” —Dayton News. | comicbooks.com