Judge — June 15, 1918 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

The Robin's Quarters—At the coun- try home of George G. King, on Pine lake, a robin has built its nest in a corner of the lattice which covers a pump, within looking and reaching distance of anybody who goes there for water. With some friends from town who vis- ited the place a few days ago was a little girl who was much astonished at what she saw. Stepping outside the lattice the little gitl waved a hand at her mother and called: “Oh, come here, mother, and see where they keep their robin.”—Youngstown Telegram. Pertinent Query—‘‘ Mamma, when people are in mourning do they wear black nightgowns?”” “Why, no, of course not.”” “Well, don’t they feel just as bad at night as they do in the daytime?”— Houston Post. Up-to-Date—Teacher—Name the five zones. Pupil—Temperate, intemperate, war, postal and o.—Boston Transcript. Ominous Silence — ‘Something wrong with the children. I don’t see ’em around. “They’re probably alf right.” “No; there’s something wrong. I don’t even hear 'em.”"—Louisville Courier- Journal. PHILOSOPHY Unruffied by Emergency—An el- derly person, in neat but somewhat thread- bare clothing, with his side whiskers all carefully combed, entered a fashionable Fifth Avenue restaurant and ordered an expensive but discriminatingly chosen dinner, with a pint of good wine and a 5o-cent cigar to follow. When he had finished and the waiter laid a check for a considerable amount on the tablecloth the gentleman who had dined said he wished to speak to the manager. Promptly the manager came. Impressed by the dignified bearing and distinguished face of the guest, he bowed. “T trust everything has been satisfac- tory?” he inquired. “Everything,” stated the older man, “has been quite satisfactory.” Then a touch of gentle reproach stole into his voice. “It wasof another matterI wished to speak to you. Do you perhaps recall that about a year ago a man well past the prime of life—a man somewhere near my Secret Service Patriotic Lady I'm sure there are a lot of spies about. I was on top of a bus’ the other day, and a very funny-looking man sez . “Is that the River Thames?” 1 didn’t answer im; they don’t get any in- formation out of me, never feat!—The Tatler (London). own age—came in here and ordered such amealas the one I have just enjoyed, and when he finished he told you that he had no money with which to pay the bill, and you called two of your assistants—both strong men—and had that old gentleman thrown bodily into the street?” “Yes,” stated the manager regretfully, “T do recall the incident you mention. 1 am sorry that it should have happened, but we have to protect ourselves against imposition. Nevertheless I confess that the thing has lain heavy upon my con- science ever since. It has troubled me no little. But why do you speak of it now?" “Beca and here the venerable person rose—“because”—his tone was soft and low—“ because, my dear sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to trouble you again.” —-Saturday Evening Post. Which One Are You?—Some one aid that when the Creator had made all the good things, there still remained some work to do; so He made beasts and reptiles and poisonous insects, and when Me had finished there were some scraps left; so He put all these together, covered it with suspicion, wrapped it with jeal- ousy, marked it with a yellow streak, and called it a Knocker. This product was so fearful to con- template that He had to make something to counteract it; so He took a sunbeam, put in it the heart of a child,*the brain of a man, wrapped these in civic pride, covered it with brotherly love, gave it a mask of velvet and a grasp of stecl, and called it a Booster; made him a lover of fields and flowers and manly sports, a believer in equality and justice; and ever since these two were, mortal man has had the privilege of choosing his own asso- ciates.— Roycrofter. The Outrage of Limited Rations The Rational Party—It's all right enough for you, Cuthbert; but how on earth they expect me to live on it, I don’t know!”—London Opinion.