Judge — August 28, 1920 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

We know a good story on an Irishman. We cannot tell it, because it is the type story we find great in elucidating. But we can in dicate it and assume the liberty of doing so. An Irishman with something “on his hip” strolled nonchalantly into an open cellarway. He fell with a splintering crash, and as he struggled upright from his recumbent position he felt the trickle of a liquid substance upon his bare skin. “My God!" he said, as he set about to determine the extent and details of the accident, “I hope it’s blood." — Philadelphia Public Ledger His Hope diffic No Way to Help Production—Here we are clamoring for production in all lines, and every time a first-class moon shine still gets going right, along comes Jim Combs with an ax and a squad of deputies and knocks the stuflin’ out of it. Lexington Herald. The Penalty of Possession i} ¥ —How sven couto L cer ror tits? Parenbroker-—At LEAST THREE MONTHS! Karikaturen (Christiania) No Bait—" Queer about my husband.” “What's the trouble?” “Since the country went dry he hasn't taken the slightest interest in fishing trips, and it used to be his favorite pastime.”"—Detroit. Free Press Plenty of Biz—"Does it pay you to keep your bar open for non-alcoholic beverages?” “Oh, yes. ‘Thousands of people come in, look around mournfully, ard o a glass of Courier-Journal something soft.””—Louis Premature—* The trouble with Bob is that he’s ahead of the times.” “How's that?” “Well, he went to look for work and found there a strike on, So he joined the strikers before he got the job.""—London Telegraph The Test—Some visitors who were being shown over a pauper lunatic asy- lum inquired of their guide what method was employed to discover when the in mates were sufficiently recovered to leave Well,” replied he, “it’s this way. We have a big trough of water, and we turns on the tap. We leave it running, and tell ’em to bail out the water with pails until they've emptied the trough.” “How does that prove it?” asked one of the visitors. “Well,” said the guide idiots turns off the tap.” “them as ain't Dallas And Yet They Make Fun of Our Restive Ways “A Quier Sumter Hotiay at aw Exctisnt Seastoe Resorr.'*—The Bystander (London),