Judge — May 3, 1919 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

Drawn by Carvext Sarna The First Renewine “Auto Acquaintance ” ou Owned Comes to Your Rescuc April Showers Make Enoch Ardens By Harry Irving Suumway OETS rave about spring and nothing can stop them. But these poets are not married women who know that there is a bit of dust somewhere in the house which has been hiding long enough. It is under one corner of the old melodeon and the melodeon cannot be moved because it will fall apart. This is the reason of spring housecleaning. To the ordinary observer who knows nothing of the sacred domestic ritual, a house might be washed, starched and laundered at any season of the year. He might argue, and with reason, that this charming period of the year might better be spent in the buddin and woods, than in chasing a little dirt that is hiding in a corner like a scared pup. The man of the house fears spring. He comes home one night sensing no evil. There is a certain something in the air that is enchanting; it is the seductiveness of a new spring night and it makes the man very happy. He whistles an air from one of last year’s operas as his foot- steps draw lightly near_his own hearthstone. He feels that life, after all, is worth while, particularly if one owns one’s own home. His wife greets him with a more than preoccupied air. ‘There is a strained look about her features. “By George,” he says, “I’m as hungry as a bear.” give ye a bite o' my apple. lie ye sce the size o” your mouth when I she cries, coming out of her Did I “For goodness’ sake, trance readily enough, “didn’t you eat in town? forget to tell you that we are not cating here just now “Not eating? What d’you mean, not eating “Why, we are spring housecleaning. The dining- room is being all done over. isn’t any place to eat. The kitchen is all ups “Well, isn’t there a snack of something in the re- frigerator? Anything. I don’t mind if it’s cold.” “Too bad,” she announces, “but the refrigerator has been sent back to the makers for a new lining and a , whet—" flounders the dumbfounded man. “Oh, well, never mind. I'll step over to the drug store and get an egg and milk.” So off he goes, like Joan of Arc, Marie Antoinette, Sir Walter Raleigh and other less famous martyrs, to the fount. He returns home a little later smoking a cigar which somehow doesn’t taste as it ought to. The certain some- thing in the air which made him feel so happy an hour back has had its edge dulled. His footsteps are no longer light. He does not whistle. But then he cheers up a bit as he nears home again. If food has been denied him, he can at least have a good night’s sleep. He is one of those persons who really like comicbooks.com