Judge — September 4, 1920 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

Gray Hair Ended \h, many are the hearts that bled! In From 4 to 8 Days \ Ms ath solemn moumicl stately tread, Gelants! Kasi blscees nd thoughts of hydro-oxygen, ered the way. for te: The parting beverage we sped When will the wet days come again? LEnsoi We are fering p Prince, with a fear akin to dread, Uy reais We draft this query from our pen: T. Goldman's through the Man must have something more than bread— 8 days every gray hair will be gone. The wet days ne'er will come again? Nery], Setdinary ou iti is and we have woman 5s * Prohibition is here, Scientific Hair Color Restorer wing. suffrage. This Test Convinces Where are the gentlemen, and ladies, who the coupes fers - used to tell us that cither one of these would your halr. Try tt on solve all the problems of the nation? WATCHES, Geared 2 2 £2.10 a month. win the a Was" sen te ° eh sane ns Telling the Secret | OFT Meaty emo 190 m4. State St. Her Daughter—Mama, you know that BROS 8 CO 123 (nteadne crmes phonograph-record that you had made of your jim Tnieigecner tt | voice? , «aa Sie eee ae ee opeclel ek Mrs. Henpeck—Ves. Sunday School Teacher—And what was the Oe oe Wrenn. Her Daughter—Well, ‘whenever you're away, | reason for the handwriting on the wall? Light brown... pa puts it on the machine and sasses it some- Willis—I suppose they probably had a paper thing awful shortage then too, ROMEIKE'S * Press CLIPPIN' “ e Ui ited States and Europe 7.50 for 100 elippiny is searched. Terms | HENRY ROMEIKE, “106-110 Seventh Ave. New York! = = | Ballade of the Nevermore @ By Howarp Dietz 'HEY’VE robbed us of our precious wine, The wine of ages gone and dead, They've taken down the tavern sign » And hung thereon a crepe instead. The Bacchus household is abed, And Liquor’s sung its sad amen. Will noses nevermore be red? When will the wet days come again? The drink we drank before we'd dine (Its name is better left unsaid Or it will start lament and whine From one whose heart is turned to lead) That drink! Alas, its spark has fled As swift as southward flies the wren Is there no life for it ahead? When will the wet days come again? While watching Alcohol’s decline And Prohibition’s spirit spread To crush the ever-gushing vine— SEXUAL ——— pagee—many ttl and commendatvons, om request Drawn by Hanvey Prawe Vacation Tries or 4 Cotor-Butxo Tourist