Judge, 1920-02-28 · page 31 of 36
Judge — February 28, 1920 — page 31: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Judge, 1920-02-28. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
February 28, 1920 __ = Dewwn by G. By Iewoo> Comforter: Don't mind, Vth © a pig, anybody: can tee y¢ He Never HadaChance By ‘Vrxneut Love Hotuay N aged Crasus, who had accumulated « vast hoard of silver and realized that he wuld not take it with him into the next world, sulled in his neighbor. Jones,” announced Croesus, “U’ve often ieard you complain that you never had a chance. o U'm going to give you one, It must be hard © support a large family upon a day: laborer’s wages.” Bidding Jones follow, Creesus descended to he strongroom in the basement of his palace. ‘In here,” the billionaire said, unlocking « stecl-barred door, “you will find sack upon sack inewly-minted dollars. You may have all you wn Gury away before [ cul « halt.”” Cutting short Jones's profuse thanks, Crovsus strode away. Looking back from the top of the tairs, the rich man saw Jones glance at his watch, then sit down and light his pipe. The nour Was 12.44. that evening, Croesus reappeared as removing his overalls. tall the money you want, ch?” chuckled he billionaire. | "replied Jones. “TU be | back in the morning. “Oh, you're tired? “Not very," responded Jones, surprised at his benefactor’s obtuseness. “I's. quitting time. That's alJ."” “It is indeed all—for you with a gesture of final dismissal "barked Crassus, “You've fess fair Cream most. contr wonderful manner. On receipt of zie we will postpaid anywhere, Money refunded if not pleasing. Barbers take Using Marre After Ualag Marvel 0tioo. MARVEL, 23 Second Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pa. thrown away your big chance, just as you threw away thousands of little ones. The man who says he never had a chance generally is a liar as well as a loafe>.” My Celluloid Collar (To be sung adagio lamentoso by a college pre} Ry Fasas lieeeran sor) good for my pu tse is the celluloid collar H' IW Which fate and to ary neces ity force me he high cost of living has punctured my dollar; There's many a burden that doller can’t bear L try and Ctry, but my many devices Keep longshoremen’s wives in satin and silk; They genat the high flying trend of the prices, While I, in despair, must use water for mith That celluloid collar I hail as a treasure, For often at dawn when preparing for work, I tind it the source of an exquisite pleasure To sponge the smooth surface where dust spots may lurk At evening again I must clutch it and rub it, Removing the stains of its contact with life; It always rewards me. The moment I scrub it, That collar responds with a glow like a knife. How sweet from the basin of water to take it, As blameless and pure as it was on the day, When, fetching it home, I decided to make it Conceal with its gloss my shortcomings in pay. That celluloid collar, that glistening collar, That shine-me-well collar has points that I Li It stiffens the back of my jellytish dollar And helps me look bright, though the laun- drymen strike. Ty EGYPTIAN DEITIES “The Utmost ir Cigarettes Plain End or @drk Tip People of culture and refinement invariably P REFER. ©Deities to any other cigarette. ty ts ce Pretty Soon “Yes, Lam at liberty to consider an engage ment,” the Domestic Exceutive (who in the quaint old days, away back in A.D. 1903 was known as maid-of-all-work) observed thought fully. “And you would accept what wages—t hat is, T mean, honerarium?” the houscholder asked with eager deference. “Well, I do not think J would care to con tract for a sulary, but if you will make out a statement of your total income I will take under advisement the proposition of taking over that amount, supplying you with plain board, and allewing you a nominal sum each month for pin money.” Sufficient Excuse “Do you know why Hamp Flatt shot bis brother-in-law tuther night?" asked an ac- quaintanee. “Well,” replied Gap Johnson, of Rutnpus Ridge, Ark. “Hamp say's he was no-'count, or comet hing—yaw-ww-wn !—thata-way” comicbooks.com