Judge — June 1, 1918 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

Failure to Prepare “Tu as raison, ma petite chérie, je me rends compte maintenant que c'est bien une guerre de matériel!" “You are right, sweetheart; what counts in this war is material resources.”—Le Péle- Méle (Paris). | ADVERTISING | What It Meant—* Waiter,” said the indignant customer, “what does this mean? Yesterday I was served for the same price with a portion of chicken twice the size of this.” “Yes, sir,” answered the waiter. “Where did you sit?” “Over by the window.” “Then that accounts forit. Wealways give people who sit by the windows large portions. It’s an advertisement!”—New York Evening Post. Description—In the Pantheon of the Nations, California—“that soft, round, poetic bundle of voluptuous sensibility that bankrupted nature in the making” —reposes upon a couch of gold-hearted mountains and emerald-breasted valleys, and faces the soft wash of a summer sea that is seldom storm-swept and on whose bosom, even from Nome to the antipodes, no iceberg ever floated. We lack one advantage that is pos- sessed by the people of the East. We have no California to go to. There is no promised land for us. We are in the promised land already. We cannot pack our Lares and Penates and with them journey toward the sunset, for we are living in its affluent beams.—Los Angeles Times. Pertinent Request—A house hunter saw an advertisement in the paper de- scribing a charming house “within a stone’s throw of the station.” He made an appointment, and in due course was escorted to the house in question, two miles away. When they reached the threshold he turned to the agent, suavely. “Would you mind introducing me,” he whispered, “to the person who threw that stone?” —Clippings. | SYSTEM | Out of Abundant Caution—A club- man tells of a young friend of his, a very methodical youth recently graduated from a Northern university, who, upon setting up his own establishment, under- took to look after his own domestic affairs. “As an evidence of his orderly na- ”’ says the clubman, “I offer this: ing to mark his laundry for purposes of identification, he inscribed his name on one piece and marked the others ‘ditto.’”—Harper’s Magazine. What Was Missing—In an engincer- ing works in the north of England, pilfer- ing had been going on among the men. The master spoke to the foreman, an Irishman, on the matter, telling him if he had any suspicions to search the men before leaving. One evening Pat had occasion to do this, and while in the act of telling the men to take their coats off the master came by. “Well, Pat, what is missing now?” “A wheelbarrow, sir.” —Tit-Bits. Nothing Unusual—When daylight saving began— “Gee, whiz!” said the impudent office boy. “I wish I was on the night shift on Saturday night. Them fellows will get paid for an hour they won’t work.” “Well,” said the boss, “anything un- usual about that?” —Buffalo Express. Our Concert The Sergeant—Now, boys, Private Pringle is going to recite that famous poem by Ella Alum Poe, “‘Quoth the Raven—Never No More!” —Bystander (London). comicbooks.com