Judge — July 13, 1918 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

—) cultivated a nice, long, silken portitre on the window-pane of his ego. Can you imagine a Darwin with a bald countenance, a Herbert Spencer whiskerless? Can you conceive Reubens barbered out of himself, or Van Dyck minus his golden jaw curtain? From Homer to Edwin Markham the big tradition-smashing poems of the world have been penned by men “bearded like the pard,” what- ever thatis. Walt Whitman worked a revolution in literary forms by reason of his remarkable shock of capillary filaments. What Samson’s hair on head and face did for his physical prowess Robert Browning’s whiskers, Tenny- son’s flowing beard and Kipling’s aggressive mustache have done for their imaginative vigor. Joseph Conrad's riotous chin stubble and Sir Conan Doyle's rococo lip-fringe have iven them vast fame and a solid competence. If Marie Corelli could have grown a beard like Hall Caine’s she would be the most interesting woman in the world today instead of a stuffy, third-rate novelist. The war? The war will be won by Generals with hz on their faces—and chests. The men in supreme command are all mustached. The poilu is generally bearded; they tried to make him shave and the order came near to dis- rupting the French army. Now they let the beard rule the man and the boche has suffered proportionately. If we can induce Mr. Hoover and Mr. McAdoo to allow their chins to blossom as the rose, if Secretary Baker and Secretary Daniels only can be persuaded to emulate the facial facade of King Solomon or King George V, if our leaders at home and abroad can be made to see and appreciate the indubit- able power of whiskers, we shall smother the close-cropped, an Hun in a mighty avalanche of bewhiskered ‘anenergy. Just between ourselves, | think we are going to win anyway, whiskers or no whiskers. But they would help a lot; help throw in the high-gear on our efforts; help intensify the very whisk in whiskers and stretch the hairy ear in beard. What? Say Foch! Wi 2N General Foch iets after the Boche With Pershing and Haig to assist him, The Kaiser will mourn That day ever was born When he challenged the world to resist him. Draven by Cuester 1. Ganve Lighthouse Keeper (from aloft): You Marie! here an’ get dinner an’ quit gossipin’ about yer neighbors! more than you can run an automobile without an engine, and you can’t disassociate whiskers from greatness on the same rigid principle. Lookit Roosevelt and Root and “Uncle Joe” Cannon and Foch and Haig and Pershing—all big, capable fighters both in civilian and military life. Lookit the skates over on the Hun’s side—Hinden- burg and Ludendorff and Bloody Bill of Berlin. The trouble with B. B. is that his whiskers are ingrowing and have turned his brains into hair hare-brained, you know. If the Kaiser’s worst atrocity, the Crown Prince, was able to raise a half-way decent beard instead of a sissy mustache, he might win one little battle somewhere out of the Allies’ gun-range. But the poor eel can’t seem to raise anything but the enmity of a majority of Barxspate Rocens his own people and the scorn of the world at large. Murmurines or ANnGeEts Napoleon—smooth shaven! Um, yes. But he “She and her husba n't understand one another at all.” might have died Emperor of Europe if he had “ Both intellectual, eh? comicbooks.com