Judge — October 25, 1919 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

Like a furnace fire. Youneed it each winter. Because Piso*s, too, isaprotection against winter weather. By soothing irritated, scratchy throats ard relieving bothersome coughs and hoarseness, it prevents more se riousailments. Keep italwaysin the medicine cabinet ; use itat the first indication of throat irritation. Be at your drugrist’s. Ce opiate, Good for yous Drafteman Building Contractor ‘Structural Engineer jechanical Engiveer ‘Civil Engineer’ Steam Engincer le The magazine t! ilm Fun 2 with your {1 Sc a copy At All News Stands (Advertising Rates on Applic: LESITEJUDGE CO., 225 Fifth Ave, New York City “Out of fhe Mouths of Babes’ By Cyrit B. Ecan ONC > ina blue moon, the professional | interviewer has the good fortune, | in his search for copy, to run across a person who has a fresh view-point, who is altogether unembarrased and unham- pered by the prejudices and conventions | of your ordinary mortal, and who brings to bear an entirely virgin mind on the questions which are put to him. The opinions of such a person—like the judge- ments of Pure Reason uncontaminated by earthly or material consjderations—woul!d undoubtedly appear to be of tremendous | value. Such a person I interviewed only yesterda His name is Mulligan, he is but six days old. Picking up the paper yesterday morn- ing, and gleaning from the head of the Birth, Marriage, and Death column the intelligence that there was “Born—on September 2, 1919, a baby boy to Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Mulligan of 1236 Bar- racks Ave.”, I resolved to see what a span-new mind had to offer, and went forth to interrogate this freshly arrived visitant of a Hibernian household. “Mulligan,” I said, when I had re- gained my breath from panting up several | flights of dingy and dirty stairs, and had come at last face to face with the youngster as he lay swaddled in a crude basket that was fashioned like a minia- ture clothes-hamper—‘“Mulligar what do you think of life anyway JUDGE “Aglub,” said the baby. An unsatisfactory beginning to say the least. I tried him again. Mulligan,” I was constrained to ad- dress him thus familiarly, his Christian name as yet being as indeterminate as the nose on his face, “are you glad or sad that you're her “Ablub,” bubbled the Baby. “Mulligan,” I persevered, “do you like this home? Do you really think this is a nice family for a child to be born in “Bla-blaa!” blurted the Baby. “Mulligan, I ask you as Man to Baby, have you brought with you any solution for the Problem of Life? Have you any remedy to offer for Bolshevism, Socialism, Imperialism, or any of the other isms that the world is afflicted with today ?” “AWAUGH!" screamed the Baby I folded up my note-book, preparatory to making an exit. “Mulligan,” I said, taking one of the infant's fists in my hand, “you are the most admirable person I have ever had the pleasure of interviewing. You are witty, you are succinct, you are to the point. You say what you mean. I have interrogated many notables in the past few months; and I can assure you, my young friend, that, though you may say as much as they, you are just as pro- foundly illuminative on these vexed topics as the whole kit and shebang of them.—Good-day, Mulligan, good-day !” The Johnson Family, who cleaned up a few thousand on their cotton crop, are dismayed to find that their new grand piano won't go through the door. 30