Judge — March 20, 1920 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

Soren er on oa At a2! pemmmneretin ae raed oe GE ae ae re, Chief! 1 got ew idea how to torture Eddy Jones when we ketch him work a merger. Between the two you ought to get some bully trips. They might follows, just to give you an idea: 1. Uncle George’s farm via White River Junction and Cousin Mary’s. Plan to be at Mary’s around twelve o'clock noon if possible. Uncle George has a hundred-gallon gasoline tank back of the corn crib 2. Grandfather’s home via Wild Cat Gulch and Peterboro. Make detour at four corners; road is all right but winged a constable there last year. An old neighbor said if you were ever up that way to drop in. It is near enough to Vermont so they may have some- thing to make the flapjacks slippery besides sugar. Carry on. 3. Aunt Susie’s ranch via Brattleboro, with side trip to Cousin Maude’s. Cousin Maude specializes in hogs if memory serves rightly. Reset odometer and beat it for Brother Bill’s place. If Brother Bill's wife has not lost her culinary cunning, then omit consulting hotel ads 4. Sister Jennie’s via route 293a. Fine scenery You can look over the top of Jennie’s fence and see acres of green corn, vegetables, fruit trees and poultry houses. Oh, wonderful scenery. Option of side trip to Aunt Emma's Trip to Mother-in-law’s home, Roads passable but unsafe. Steep grades. Avoid sharp turn at R. R. crossing. Sandy road half way, balance boulders. Deep ravine on both sides for five miles. Reported early in the season as not open for traffic. Better pass it up. Fair Warning “Now, looky yur, Paw!” ominously said young Bearcat Johnson, of Bumpus Ridge, Ark., addressing his sire. “I busted your pipe, all right, and then owned up to it. Now, dad-burn it, if you don't quit cussing and yelling about it pretty soon you'll get me mac The City Dweller on Farming B HE dream of my heart is a farm far apart From the city, its trouble and noise I long for a cot in a beautiful spot Which offers tranquillity’s joys I pine for some cows, and for chickens and plows For piggeries, silos and such; But when I give heed to the toil they would need, I don’t seem to want them so much! Kesxeti L. Rowers My dreams of a place are not such as embrace A dull agricultural grind; They allow me to snooze all the day if I choose, With nothing at all on my mind They do not include any labor that’s rude Like plowing all day in thé sun; If farming demands work like that from my hands, L fear it will never be donc I'm free to admit that [ don’t care a bi For rising at half after three While having to work like the justly-famed ‘Turk Is more than repellant to me Uncowing the milk, and small tasks of that ilk, Are joys, once or twice in a year: But think me no snob if [ tum down the job As part of my daily carcer. I cannot arise ere the dawn lights the skies And the mercury’s twenty below, And seek out the hens in their dank, dusty dens! Such labor would kill me, | know! And so, though I dream of that farm by a stream Far away from the city so vile And hark to its lure, Lam reasona’ That I'll stay in ‘the city a while. y sure Drown by Hecear Wusruey A.C. “You have a nerve, young I should take you in partnership?” “Well, you ‘see, I’m goi: you can’t afford to have a mere clerk for a son-in-law. comicbooks.com Can you tell me why to marry your daughter, and