Judge — January 8, 1921 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

Time to Think It Over —" Doctor, sm L going to dic?” “What have you been drinking?” ‘Home brew.” “No, you won’t die, but two weeks in the hospital ought to improve your judg- mert.""—Birmingham Age- Herald, Home Brew—" What is this?” asked the guest. “It’s beer,” replied his host. “I made it myself.” “Beer?” “Yes, what did you think it was?” “T don’t know. Tt looks like something that ought to be used in a fountain pen.” Detroit Free Press. A Chronic Ailment—* Pa put in six cases of whisky before the country went dry so as to have a supply in the event of sickness.” “Well?” “TI don’t believe he’s had a well day since.”"—Louisville Courier-Journal. A Pyrrhic Victory—The thirsty Brit- isher took a swallow of the drink he had ordered, then he sat down the glass and inquired, What do you call this?” “Victory the rep. “Good 'cavings!” he exclaimed. “ Then we lost the war after all.”—Boston Tran- script. What's Your Guess?—The Cincinnati Enquirer wants to know what the Gov- emor of North Carolina says to the Governor of South Carolina when they meet these deg: te days. The Detroit Free Press says: “We can guess. He says one word, It has four letters and begins with H. What can that be? The Boston Globe thinks it may be “Hear!” A New York exchange believes it to be “Hist!” indi- cating that the governor has something on his hip. Our theory is that the-word is “Help!” But the Free Press has set us an almost insoluble puzzle. What do you think?—Cleteland Plain Dealer. In Demand—Flatbush—And did you attend the séance last night? Bensonhurst—1 sure did. “And did the medium get you in touch with the spirit with which you wished to speak?” No; the line was busy Statesman, '—Yonkers High Cost of Afflatus Hopeful Highbroco—Or course TWe STATR MUST SURSIDIZE ART AND LITERATURES INSPIRATION NOW COSTS THIRTY DOLLARS A HOTTLE.—Korsaren (Christiania.) Might Detain Him an Hour “Is Mr, Bibbles at home?” asked a voice over the telephone. “No,” replied Mrs. Bibbles, “but he telephoned a few minutes ago that he was on his way home.” “Then he will arrive shortly, I sup- pose?” “Oh, yes, unless somebody stops him on the street and asks him what he thinks of the eighteenth amendment.”’—Bir- mingham Age- Herald. Fooling Mamma Rill—Wor vex neatix’ THe Kip FoR, Liz? Lis—Wuy, | Tetts ‘It To GeT CLEANED so’s | COULD TAKE, ‘It TO BE VACCERNATED, AND WHEN WE GET TO THE pocTor’s, | YOUND "E "AD WASHED THE WRONG ARM.— —London Saturday Journal. ww Imperturbable Official—‘“Is__ this the detective bureau?” asked the dishev- eled stranger. “It is,” replied a corpulent man in uniform who wi ed at a desk and writing in a large ledger. “T'm lost.”” “You are, ch?” replied the corpulent man, as he continued writing. “Well, if you can prove that anybody’s missing you, we'll take up the case.”—Birming- ham Age-Herald. S se of Necessity—‘A friend in need is a friend indeed,” smilingly said the pawnbroker as he reached for a client’s timepiece. “I’m no friend of yours, Scrooge,”’ said the needy one. “Mebbe not,” chuckled the other, “but the fact remains that you're putting up with me.”—Buffalo Express. Both on Duty—“I hate to hold you up,” said the polite footpad, “but you see what happens to people who stay out lat “But business kept me out late,” pro- tested the pedestrian. “Same here,” replied the footpad, as he retumed the pedestrian’s tin watch and kept his bank roll.—Birmingham Age- Herald. comicbooks.com Way,