Judge — April 10, 1920 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

Scat, ote oS generous. [ wish I could have had such a man with me at Paris.” Senator crimson. his eyes cast down: kind you are to compliment me that wa I am sure you did much better without me The two Senators pickec up their hats to go. “We shall pass the treavy this very night, Woodrov said Mr. Hitchcock, “if only Cabot will consent to our in- erting a few—oh, just a few eservations. He _ insists that courtesy to you demands the ratification of the treaty intact. Cabot, as you know, is an excellent fellow; so generous in his attitude toward you.” “Will you not do me a personal favor, Cabot?” said the President softly. “Put in some reservations. Pray forget about me entirely. There, there, I know you'll do what’s right.” Mr. Lodge bowed slightly. “Since you ask it, Wood- row, it shall be done. And now, good nigh “Good night, Cabot. Good night, Gilbert. Re- member me to your colleagues. Tell them I welcome their counsel, will you not, gentlemen? Oh, and ask Senator Fall to come to lunch with me tomorrow and enlighten me on the Mexican situation. Thank you Good-night.” The Chairman of the Platinum Wage Conference rose as the others left. “Well,” said he, “things are going Lodge — blushed “Oh, sir,” said he, “how Drown by Dox Henan by Hasunros Wausans Mydelclass—Styvie? You A Letrer rrom Hts Sox tx Cottece Bet! He Lives Like very nicely,aren’t they? Good- night, Mr. President. The President put out his hand. “Good night,” he said. “T must get back to work. [ have a long, chummy letter to write to Leonard Wood this very night, so lL must not detain you longer.” The Chairman of the Plat- inum Wage Conference went nut into the cool dusk of Washington. “A pleasant city,” he said to himself as he crossed La- fayette Park, with the lights of the city twinkling through the trees about him. ‘fA pleasant city, but a lit- tle slow, I fear, now that the millennium has come. Dear me, | wonder what we shall talk about at dinner this son: = a \ familiar figure passed in the half darkness, and the Chairman nodded to him. “A newspaper man,” he mused as he continued on his. way “Poor fellow. What will he tind to write about now?” The Cause By ‘Tos P. Morcas ‘Look here, landlord!” sternly said 4 guest, who had de- scended to the office at 11:30 p.m.“ L cannot go to sleep in the midst of such a hubbub as has been going on down here for the last two hours. What was the occasion of it, anyhow?” “Aw, that was just old Riley Rezzidew and "Squire Rams. bottom, both of whom know it all and know it different, telling it to each other till they got so mad they quit and went home,” replied the landlord of the Petunia tavern. “I’m sorry their rumpus disturbed you, Mr. Bloor, but they’re good old fellers, and they can’t find any other warm place to argue in at this time of night. And I'm kinda hoping that sooner cr later they'll empty each other and stop for Oh. Dyer—Two months ago he couldn't even carry a tune. Ryer—And now? Dyer—He's a piano mover, Fixed Investigator—Won't the rais- ing of the trolley fares force most of the people to walk? Trolley Magnate—Uncoubt- edly, but that result has been forecasted and provided for. A year ago I bought a controlling \ Lanptoro! interest in all the shoe stores.” comicbooks.com