Judge — November 9, 1918 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

ing or barthday gifts Ginterated catoing™ post posd free. Factory Piedmont Red Coda Chest Co, Dept. 98, Statesville, N.C. to Home| This Interesting Free Book shows how you can become a skilled player of piano or organ in your owa home, one-quarter usual cont. Dr, Quil famous Written Method is endorsed by Witte today for Go‘page feee Sooke Hise va Ln rite today for 64-page free book. “How to Learn Plane or Orga M.L Quinn Conservatory, Studie 1K, Secial Union Bidy. Beston, The Doubter By Crara S. Cutter | | HE holds the front door open wide To watch her love draw near; She smiles, the while she quakes inside, 4 She smiles and bravely tries to hide q Her one misgiving fear j He's at the gate—a minute more Her heart’s too full to utter He's up the steps—he’s in the door Her own true love is home once more But did he bring the butter? _ udge publication is to pre the gospel of cheerfulnes | The mission of thi } / ] | [ t iy “BAC | i | M Brunswick Building Walker Building Marquette Building - - Chicago : Henry Building ~~ - ~~ - ~ ~~ - Seattle - Judge is printed by the Schweinler Press | ; ROMEIKE’S PRESS CLIPPING BUREAU We will send you all newspaper 5 clippings which may appear about you, your fri ject on w you may want to be “up-to-date.” " and periodical of importance in th 4 Europe is searched. Terms $6.00 per 100 notices. 3 HENKY ROMEIKE, 106-1!0 Seventh Ave.. New York | t Drawn by L. C. Pusren Cavalry Rookie Tim Flynn’s idea of inflating mobile pump, took away much of the unpleasantness his riding breeches with the Captain's automo- attached to the first day’s riding. A Marine’s Soliloquy By Py. J. H. Buaxp I VE spent the summer evenings in a cottage by the se: I've roamed the fragrant arbors of the famous Tuileries; I've seen the Grand Prix races and gripped the winner’s hand, I've heard Caruso warble and applauded Prior's band; I've stopped in Massachusetts and eaten Boston beans, I've played at Monte Carlo and dived in subma- rines; I've been in foreign places and seen the kings and earls, I've called down in the Bowery and seen the Chorus Girls; I've scaled the Alpine Mountains and coasted down their sides, T've sailed th whale reside I've seen the Grecian tunics and the Turkish tur- bans, too, I've seen the tinted x-ray and the gaudy peek a-boo; (ve run Niagara rapids I've killed the Malay lion Arctic waters where the Norway nd canoed the Afric Nile and the Congo croco- dile; I've skiied the mountain glaciers of cold Siberia, ve toured the principality of old Liberi I've seen the Pompeii ruins and the mines of Kim berly I've stood upon the battlefields of Washington and I've viewed the factories of Edison and plants of Henry Ford, I've seen the Rock of old Gibraltar and the exiled Russian horde; I've talked with Ha and Kaiser Bill, I've seen the Battle of the Marne where Joffre made kill; ped the Hula Hulas in cities scandal torn, But—pray tell me in what ocean I can find SEPTEMBER MORN?—Marines Magazine. g and Hindenburg, Kin: But Not Warped, We Hope By Davip Ferris Kixsy Our Local Board is very nice, And hears our tales with good accord, But I am sure it sometimes must Be very, very bored. My Questionnaire (With all proper acknowledgments) By W. E. Nesom Te hours I've spent o'er thee, fell chart, Have seen my whole career laid bare, My life dissected part by part— My questionnaire, my questionnaire! ach blank filled up, each yes or no. Put down, unqualified, unmixed, And, half a hundred times or so, My signature affixed: How much I owe, how much I've spent, How old I am, what weight, how tall, What sum I monthly pay for rent- I've told it all, God wot, I've told it all! My middle name, long time forgot, My creed, the color of my h: My crimes—thou hast thém, hast thou not, My questionnaire, my questionnaire? What hours of bit ntal toil, What burnings of the midnight oil Thy column represents! The annals of a well-spent life, My trifling faults, my virtues rare, Phe very age of my dear wife re written there, gadzooks, they’re written there! The Pan of the Paper Saver By Mary Canotys Davies Writing letters was a bore; I don’t write them any more And my friends can’t say a thing! Where’s thy victory, O war? Conservation, where thy sting? Your Name and We'll i Send You a Lachnite mae amen ae comicbooks.com