Judge — January 1, 1921 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

An Easy Mark Col. Borer—Henro, Jones, wiexe've you pees? Jones—To see my rrorie Col. Borer—Au! Axp wow viv you rixp THe? Jones—QUITE, EASILY—KNEW WHERE THEY uve. (Excapes.)—London Weekly Tele- graph Busy Day on the Links—Redd: Been out on the golf links today? Greene—Oh, yes. “Lose any balls or break any clubs?” “No; the only thing I lost was my temper, and the only thing I broke was a few commandments.” —Washington Star. ” Real Golfer Never Quits—Whenever there comes a rainy afternoon the golf bug always has something to do. This is only a partial list of the things which may occupy his time. For instance, we use rainy afternoons to: Get a hair-cut. Catch up on correspondence. Clean up the desk. Do necessary shopping. Get acquainted with the family.— Detroit Free Press. And Then Several—“ What is con- sidered a good score on these links?” “Well, sir,” replicd the youthful cad- die solemnly, “most of the gents tries to do it in as few strokes as they can, but it gin'r'lly takes some more.”—Windsor (London). Plenty of Company company.” “No doubt of it. That's the comfort able thing about golf. A bad golfer can always find plenty of fellows in his class." —Detroit Free Press. Gaining Proficiency—* How is Dub- aite’s game of golf these days?” “He's improving.” “Makes a better score?” “No, but he has an easier flow of language when he loses a_ ball.” —Bir- mingham Age-Herald. Digging Up the Links—The man in the rainbow stockings was trying to play golf. The difficulty was, of course, to hit the ball. It was so much easier to hit the ground. He hit that every time. The turf flew in all directions. Swish! Swosh! Plop! More excava- tions. Something was wrong somewhere. It couldn’t be his stockings. It must be the links. He turned helplessly to his opponent. “What do you think of these links?” he exclaimed. “What do I think of em?” gasped his opponent, wiping a bit of soil from his lips. “Pouf. Best I ever tasted!’"— Pittsburgh Chronicle-Telegraph. -“ Misery loves THE The State of Molli the British embassy, dropping leaflets of protest about Ireland, said at a Washing ton dinner party the other day: “Poor Ireland! I know an Irish boy named Mike Shane who immigrated into America last month. When he reached here the immigration officer started to question him, . “Where do says. ““T come from Mike. “*Ballybunion,’ the immigration officer. ‘And what state is Ballybunion in?’ “*Faith, sorr,” s. horrible state. y grated.’ ”"—Detroit Free Press. Ballybunion— Miss arroll, the actress who flew over you come from?’ he Ballybunion,’ says ‘she’s in a I immi- Pat's Idea—Mrs, Casey (with fashion paper)—What are aigrettes, Mike? Casey—Weren’t ever in sassicty, woman? Shure, it’s what ye send when ye can’t go.—Boston Transcript. And Such a Ducky Lid, Too! Fair Customer—I'b Like To TRY ON THAT ONE OVER THERE. Salesman—I'M SORRY, MADAM, BUT THAT IS THE LastpsHaDe.— The Passing Show (London). comicbooks.com