Judge — August 14, 1920 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

Her Idea—" From what my friends say, I gather golf is an awfully sociable game.” “What makes you think that?” “They talk so much about its tees.” Baltimore American Mighty Few Do—"Why don't join a golf club?” Man, I don't know how to play golf.” That’s no reason. Ninety per cent. of the golf club members don’t know how to play the game either.” —Detroit Free Press. you 1 That's Different—Patience—‘ You know that fellow Chiro?” Patrice — You nean = the — mind reader? “They say he's wonderful.” “So I've heard.” They tell me you can hide any ob: ject in any out of the way place and he'll find it.” “Yes, but [ understand he was out on the links yesterd and he lost an even half-dozen golf balls.""—Vonkers States- mait ‘ The Other Place Unto the links the golfer hies And thinks that he’s in Paradise, A bunker traps his little ball And he is not in Heaven at all. —Detroit Free Press. Agricultural Depression Old Farmer Johan—Dow't TALK TO ME ABOUT POOR CROPS. | REMEMBER ONE YEAR WHEN THE OATS WERE SO LOW THE SPARROWS HAD TO GET DOWN ON THEIR KNEES TO EAT THEM. —Sirix (Stockholm). His Dream Girl His Mistake—“ How dare you mal- treat the lady so!” Lustige Blaetter (Berlin) Sticking to the Standbys—Actor—I want you to write mea play. Playwright—Good as done, old top. Featuring? Actor—Yours modesily, an airplane, a bed, an eternal triangle, an ouija board, an opium joint, a radio station and, say, the servant problem.—Ruffalo Express. 2 He—L Mab A NIGHTMARE LasT NIGHT! She—Yes! Rats! This is a modern dance!”— I saw vou wim ner!—London Mail. Not Even That—* Young Mr. Smiers says he is wedded to his art. “Indeed! I shouldn’t have judged from his pictures that he was even en- gaged to it.” —Boston Transcript. Her Advice—He was one of those fel lows who thought he could do anything, an opinion shared by some of his friends. “T can’t decide whether to go in for painting or poetry,” he remarked one evening to the young lady he bored with his vain chatter. “I'd go in for painting if I were you,” replied the girl “Then you've seen some of my paint- ings?” “Oh, no!” she told him, cruelly. “But I've heard some of your poetry.” Houston Post.