Judge — November 23, 1918 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

That was the first Thanksgiving Day of Man. He got rid of something on his chest— a sense of gratefulness for little thin and resolved, no doubt, to be a more human murderer and a not-quite-so-lazy husband in the future. From that day to Thanksgiving, 1918, a great deal of human blood has flowed under the mills of the Gods. There have been many things to be thankful for and a great many things to pout at, and a whole lot of things to cuss about. You and I—that is, the hu- man race, for from the beginning they, all of them, have been blood of our blood and bone of our bone (don’t you feel it in this most human time?)—have done pretty well, con- sidering that we have been up nst fan ine, flood, comets, wars, Nature's sunny cynicism, the decrees of kings, Intolerance, the‘natural perversity of Things in General, poverty, the flesh, the devil and the Hun Yes, we've done pretty well. We—you and I—have flowered into a Sophocles, Shakespeare, a Michael Angelo, a Becthover a Leonardo da Vinci, a Darwin, a Newton, Galileo, a Voltaire, a Mark Twain—the r of oug great names would take up an iss of JM Yes, we have done pretty well—con erin’. Racially, let us give thanks to whatever gods will listen for Music, Painting, Science, Literature, Dancing, and even the spirit of Humor. We—you and I—have laughed i the face of hell—and of that laugh there was born a star—Art, and its satellite, Pleasure Today, in this Thanksgiving season, we who are real men and women thank those same blind and wilful gods that we are alive We have stood to our breasts in blood; but we have lived and helped, and feared not We have stood, in these four years, at the crossroads of civilization, and fought a thug in the dark—the Hun. We have not for- gotten our birthright, Liberty. We have stood and died beside France and Belgium; has made the supreme sacrifice—in his way. This Thanksg Pouty SytLar \\ Drawn by Lave Campaene Drown by Carsent Sarre and each ng Day, 1918, is a day for all brave BLES AERIAL OBSERVATION men and brave women, and our brave boys and beauti- ful girls. It is a day not of night, or sorrow, or the quenchless agony of the battlefields, but a day of yleaming splendor. Never in the history of humanity have such great and unselfish deeds been done; never has there been a time of such beatific martyrdoms; never has there been a time of such unselfishness. Thanks, thanks, thanks, then, a thousand times, to whatever gods there be for the revelation of mankind unto itself—for the privilege of seeing ourselves in the blazing mirrors of Verdun and Chateau-Thierry and Ypres and the Marne as we are—ncither beasts quite, nor angels quite, but Men and Women with a mysteri- ous destiny battling for a Vision. And thanks, O thou mysterious Fate that rules us, that we are Americans, and that we have made the sublime gesture of history to enslaved humanity; that thou hast made us strong and implacable in its hour of need; and thanks for sealing with blood our friendship with France, our beautiful, all-suffering sister! And receive thou our immortal dead into Thy mysterious Presence! comicbooks.com