Judge — September 20, 1919 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

Drawn by Catvenr Sw Tue Wire Wuo Aways Insists on Her Huspanp Dressinc ror Dinner People Who Bore Us Are— By Kate B, Bertos HOSE who hold up a I bridge hand to tell the good thing little Clar- ence got off at the breakfast table. Those who wait till the maids have gone to bed, ard then ask if they might trouble you for a highball. Those who find their dreams interesting and insist on sharing them with you. Those who chew one of you best cigars all evening without lighting it. Those who give you the principles of fishing from a book they have read, while you hold the record at your club for the largest catch in 1918. Those who remember the way the cards lay and just how they were played in every game since auction was invented. Those who ask where you Drown by Pact Retr stopped on your motor trip and sadly assure you that you missed the only good places. Those who sympathize “Too bad you were short, old man,” when you pull off the drive of your life on the first tee. Those who remark that they always buy a cheap car, nothing over $4,000, when they see your Ford or Dodge or Maxwell champing the bit outside. Those who explain how they made money out of a model farm when everybody knows it can’t be done. Those who suggest you are tight about the cocktails, while they pretend to have lost the key of the wine cellar when you dine with them A Tragedy in Time By Axcis Avstix Coates “THE editor who buys your lines may have a lot to do Selecting stuff to fill the pages that his public thumbs; But if he'd only have a heart, and print the verse that you Have sold him late in April . . . before September comes! I wrote a verse, “To My Golden Girl”—(her locks inspired my pipe), For I was sworn to Caroline, and she had sunlit hair; Yet six months passed before that masterpiece appeared in type, And Maude—a _ midnight-dark brunette—returned my solitaire! A Natural Question “A feller down on Fiddle Creek took and throwed his mother-in-law in a well tuther day,” related a neighbor. “What was the matter?” asked Gap Johnson, of Rumpus Ridge, Ark Didn't he never expect to have no further use for the—p'tu!—well?” Pippa Passes