Judge — October 26, 1918 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

Faithful Waiting jendra- ° “When will he c nette (Paris) a Baion- | THE SEX | <a) The Passing of Courtesy—A Wall Street man tells an amusing incident that occurred on the night of the primary elections. At a certain polling place there was a long line of men and women awaiting turns to vote. A woman rushed up and attempted to take a place near the head of the line. iz will have to go to the foot of the ne,” the policeman informed her “Oh, but [am in a hurry,” exclaimed the woman * Makes no difference.” “Oh, but I want to vote.” “So do all the rest of these people. Go to the foot of the loine.” “Very well; then I will not vote at all, so there.” Is that old courtesy, “ladies first,”” passing away with the enfranchisement of women?—Wall Street Journal. I Slow Work—AMy. Bacon—How did you like my speech at the dinner last night? Mfrs. Bacon—It reminded me of the time when you courted me, dear. “How so?” “Why, I thou come to the point t you never would Yonkers Statesman. Jealous—He—Doesn’t Maud look like a peach tonight? She—Yes, but she didn’t get the bloom evenly distributed.—Boston Transcript. i MUSIC ; 0 ES TE = Musical Preference—“'What’s your orite tun asked the sergeant. “Tt varies,” replied the corporal.+ “A great deal depends on what girl is singing or playing.” —Washington Star. A Martyr—Henry’s wife is musical. Occasionally she drags Henry with her to aconcert. The other night it was to hear a famous Russian quartet. When the programme was about half finished she whispered: “Henry, you must admit it is wonder- ful. Why, those men have been playing together for eight years.” \ look of incredulity relieved the ex- pression on Henry’s face. “Eight years?” he repeated. “Surely, A Change tesa per redeva che az The armies of the Enten Who would have thous my dear, we've been here longer than that Argonaut. ‘ Sweet and Low—The family were entertaining callers one afternoon, and while the grown-ups were talking, the baby crept on the floor. Suddenly there was a loud bump and wild wail. It came from the direction of the piano. “Oh, the baby has hurt himself!” cried nother. “Run quick, dear!” The young father had already dashed toward the piano. He dropped on his knees and groped under the piano for his injured offspring. Presently he returned. “He fell down and bumped his head on one of the pedals,” he reported. “Oh, the poor darling! Is it a bad bump?” asked one of the guests. “No,” he answered. ortunately his head hit the soft: pedal!”—London Tit-Bits. of Tune th Cosi a sangue, queste » fe as mosquitoes to Germany.” at mosquitoes could bite so hard!”— comicbooks.com