Judge — March 29, 1919 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

JDGE a L 4 2 bist Imit acters in the n uni- lomo- nutes with n the i €s, SO | you the that yne?”” March 29, i919 , Wintry Years By Watt Mason than he : MAN’S_ no_ older feels,” in cheerful tones the old sport spiels, and then he says he feels as grand as any springald in the land. Myself, I often talk that way; I trot around from day to day, and try to show a sprightly step, and prove that I am full of pep. “Judge not a man,” I’often cry, ‘by snowy hair or bleary eye; for one may show the signs of years, and be as husky as three steers. My back is bent,” I say, “by chee; 1 have bone spavins two or three; but not a bit of diff that makes, for I can whip my weight in snakes. I’m just as smooth, as much alive, as when my age was twenty- five; I eat my three square meals a day, and slumber sound when in the hay, and | am strong in wind and limb, and full of forty kinds of vim.” I talk so well I sometimes feel almost persuaded by my spiel. But when I’ve left the city street and homeward tooled my aching feet, I sink down in the near- est chair, and shed a sigh of deep despair. We may put up a cheerful bluff and spring a line of sunshine stuff, but weary age, alackaday, is something we can’t talk away. We may exhibit nerve sublime, but we can’t fool old Father Time. He’s grin- ning in the inglenook; he’s waiting there to use the hook. I lay aside my china eye, and heave the saddest sort of sigh; and from their cavern underneath I then produce my hand-made teeth; I take my dark wig from my head, and other marks of age 1 shed; my wooden leg I then disjoint, and ringboned foot with salve anoint. When I’vé removed all store-made parts, I am a sight to break your hearts; a poor old relic of the past worn down to skin and bones at last. When I’m remote from human gaze, afar from all the grinning jays, I try to fool myself no more; I view my pieces on the floor, and say, “I wonder why in heck man won’t admit he is a wreck?” He won't! He won't! And that is why he does not like the dumb beast die; while he has breath he does his stunt and shows a brave undaunted front; he'll face the world with gaudy grin, and won’t admit that he’s all in. So when the morning comes again, I go to face my fellow men, my whiskers dyed, my wig in place, my false teeth bulging out my face, and as I go I cry, “Gadzooks! Man is no older than he m looks! Too Much Haste By Texxyson J. Dart Events march on so rapidly That now and then one squeals, “Confound it, you event back there, You're tromping on my heels!” | Experience- the best’ teacher | DRAWN FROM LIFE The universal endorsement, given the GEM Razor by the hundreds of thousands of its users throughout the world, for over 25 years, has been its best salesman—men who have had serial rience, who have given the GEM the sever- est tests, are first to recommend it—millions now in use. All beards look alike toa GEM Blade 10 pulling, no scraping, no skipping, buta clean, smooth shave -and it’s the same story \ blade after blade. << $ 1 00 GE M ncludes frame, shaving and strop- The separate rs incind se ping handles and seven Germ Outfit Bindes in handsome caret illustrated, or in Khaki case for traveling. Complete Add 50 cents t0 above price for Canada Gem Cutlery Company, Inc., New York Canadian Branch, $91 St. Catherine St., W., Montreal comicbooks.com