Judge — March 22, 1919 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

“Have Tuey Gor Jess Wittarp Matcneo Up Ar Last?” Peace Terms and the Blithesome Boob By Arxruur C. Brooks Illustrated by HE Max Wuo Stupiep Men was absorbed in a lengthy newspaper despatch from Versailles, when the door, which he had purposely closed against anticipated in- trusion, was flung open and the Blithesome Boob capered in pirouetting and shouting, “Whoops, my deah! Whoops, my deah!” “It’s in again!” the Man Who Studied Men mut- tered unkindly. “Say, listen, old top,” opened the Blithesome Boob, grinning as he lit a cigarette.‘ What’s all this twaddle I hear about Ver-say-yah, or whatever you call it?” “What twaddle?” assisted the other. “Today I was in town to get some eggs,” informed the Boob, “and every other fellow [ met started to laugh and asked me if I was back from Ver-say-yah. I didn’t know what they meant.” “Of course not; as usual,”’ commented the Man Who Studied Men. “But you probably mean Ves-sail,” he elucidated. ‘Well, you won't be from right if you call i¢ the most important city in the world.” “Yeah? Big time on, ch?” opined the Blithesome Boob, “But what’s the ide: Have they got Jess Willard matched up at last?” ’ contradicted the Man Who Studied Men, through gritted teeth. ‘But you and I will be matched for a free-for-all pretty soon,” he warned. “But, honest, I’m interested,” pleaded the Boob, frowning. “What are they doing, anyway?” “They’re not doing anything any way,” replied the Man Who Studied Men. “They’ve been arranging peace terms for the future, security of the world and you —little as you deserve it,” he explained, relenti n,” insisted the Blithesome Boob. Witrrep Jones “A ouija board,” answered the Man Who Studied Men, averting his gaze. “A wee-jee board!” pondered the Boob. “And what do they want with a wee-jee board?” “To control the conference, of course,” Man Who Studied Men, a trifle petulantly. “And what's the system?” the Blithesome Boob questioned. “Why,” commenced the other, “it moves to each ambassador in turn, who puts a single question, and it makes the rounds till all the points are cleared up.” “T suppose its decision is final?” intelligently asked the Boob. “Indisputably,” confirmed the Man Who Studied Men. “For instance, when Baron Sonnino requests control of the Adriatic, if the board writes, ‘Okeh,’ then that argument is conceded Italy. See?” “Q-o-oh, yes,” interpreted the Blithesome Boob. nd, on the other hand,” resumed the Man Who Studied Men, “if, when the German plenipotentiary claims restoration of conquered colonies, the ouija board sets down, ‘23,’ which means the raus for said the , say,” enthused the Boob, ‘that’s real news “T don’t doubt it,” truthfully responded the Man Who Studied Men. “But, look,” continued the Blithesome Boob, had a mind for minutia, “what's the last thing they do ey all gather ’round the ouija board in ‘close who ’ propelled the Boob eagerly. ‘Go on! “And drum ‘Over There’ on it with the tips of their fingers,” finished the Man Who Studied Men, and resumed his reading. comicbooks.com