Judge — June 8, 1918 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

he was subjected, but he gained other things more valuable. Swayne, as constantly with his mate as possible, lost something of his social crudity and gained in ambition and the ability that warranted it. “You'll be an admiral some day,” said Harold. “Oh, no. Not on your life! No such climbing is ossible. But I’m going higher than this unless the adder is greased.” Whenever Harold had leave his mother demanded his company. On one occasion he took Swayne home with him. This young man’s table manners were not intuitive, and he had not watched Harold’s graces | long enough to successfully imitate. After dinner Mrs. Willson skilfully withdrew with Harold, leaving Margaret to entertain the visitor, at the piano. Mar- garet was at least theoretically fond of any young man ina uniform. “It covers a multitude of other things,” was her philosophy. “Harold,” said Mrs. Willson when they “how could you take up with a chap so gauch “We're all alike in the service, mother.” “But you’re not all alike!” “Well, we ought to be. I regret that I was born True human mettle doesn’t need gold plating. I’m not ashamed of e alone, w rich. A good man is a good man. Swayne.” Mrs. Willson was shocked. “Well, if that’s the way you think, I suppose I must put up with him.” Harold and Swayne grew more attached. On their next leave Harold again invited Swayne to his home. They swung up Fifth Avenue together—a thoroughfare that so often had seen Harold with an exclusive air in his limousine—with an aspect of true comradeship. As they neared Forty-second Street the crush of vehicles and pedestrians was abnormal even for this thronged junction. The aleit service of the traffic men could not abolish confusion. An unruly cross- town car crashed a limousine from which a young woman, apparently realizing her hazard, was about to jump in front of another motor panic-driven. Swayne had seen the danger, and with incredible quickness was in the center of things. He leaped upon the running-board of the panic-driven motor and caught Margaret, who otherwise would have been crushed. And thus began a romance which the War must solve. Knowledge is Pow-wow A’ TOR in Kalamazoo, Had a Cow that he taught to say Moo! The Rams he taught Bunting, The Piggies learned Grunting; He coached a young Cock ’til he Crew! The Kaiser: 5y Walt Mason Uncle Walt’s Exclusive Weekly Message to Judge | HE Kaiser is a curse to me, and now I weep, who used to laugh; I taste the Kaiser in my tea, I hear him in my phonograph. The Kaiser makes me wear old shoes, and hang cheap duds upon my frame;_I have the bluest kind of blues when I reflect upon his name. I’m always digging up the mon, to help along this cause or that; I wish the Kaiser’s race were run, whenever people pass the hat. There is no gent in all this land, whatever be his Jot or place, who hasn’t felt the Kaiser’s hand, the Kaiser’s heel, upon his face. I see the sad-eyed millionaire step up ‘to pay his income tax; and then he goes out doors to swear, and wish he had a battle-ax. His hard- earned roll he must unload, he must dig up his shining store; oh, he has felt the Kaiser’s goad, as he will feel it more and more. The honest workman finds the price of all he needs a thing of grief; until the Kaiser’s placed on ice, there is no promise of relief. We hear the Kaiser in the breeze, we see him in the ols and streams; we smell the Kaiser in the cheese, Re's always with us in our dreams. He’s standing by the blushing bride, he’s smirking at the old church door; he’s buried with the man who died, and makes the price of coffins soar. The Kaiser’s robbed us of the bread that was so tempting, rich and white; because of him we now are fed on wooden loaves, which are a sight. Oh, are you tired of Kaiser Bill, and does he make your innards ache? I’ve found he is a bitter pill, a most disgusting dose to take. Let’s get together, loyal boys, and drive the Kaiser from the land; we'll never know the old-time joys until his joblots has been canned. Help out, help out in every way, make sacrifices left and right! if Hoover says we should eat hay, insist that hay is your delight. If Wilson says you ought to walk instead of burning gasoline, then push yourself around the block, and junk the princely limousine. There are a hundred ways to help, I do not need to make a list; I’m eating seaweed, straw and kelp, in- stead of porterhouse, I wist. The Kaiser’s lingering about, it is no dream, it is no joke; we taste him in the slaw and kraut, and in the cigarettes we smoke. He’s raised the price of tubes and tires, o’er all the land he’s cast a pall; so, by the green graves of our sires, let’s turn his picture to the wall. Drawn by E. Frourt “T Taste THE Kaiser in My Tea, I Hear Him in My Puonocrapn”