Judge — April 9, 1921 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Drown by RB. Fetus Tue Nicutmare or Mrs. Jones wno Bakeo a Pie ox Sunpay The Return of Stewed Fish By Exiis Parker Butter AST Sunday L happened to meet Miss Jane Huckett whom I had not seen since she was working for the Starving Children of Patagonia Committee for $3,000 per year. She was hurrying toward our local ball-grounds where an amateur baseball game was in progress (no admission fee allowed) and had evidently just come out of our small motion picture theatre. With her she had a tall, red-nosed individual in a rather quaint garb and a sugar-loaf hat. He was rather filmy in appearance and I knew at once he was some sort of ghost. Jane was very much excited. “Ah, Jane!” L greeted her; “and how are the Starving Children of Patagonia now?” “I'm sure I don’t know,” she exclaimed breathlessly. “I left them. I’ve another job. I'm working for the Let's Have Back the Blue Laws Committee now. Lewis and Sarah Chapman, were tried for sitting under an apple tree on the Sabbath ¢ Captain Kemble of Boston was sentenced to sit for two hours in the public stocks for kissing his wife on the doorstep of his house when he had just returned from a voyage and absence of three +s," “How lovely!” Miss Huckett exclaimed. “We hope to have Sunday like that ourselves soon—some of us. Now, what do you think of this, Mr. Fish?” We had reached the field where the ball game was in progress. Several hundred honest suburban citizens were standing around the edges of the field, the men watching the game and the wives, with their baby cabs, chatting. Just then one of the players hit the ball and cheers rippled the air. “Ungodly! Outrageous!” cried Mr. Stewed Fish through his nose. ‘*Oh, horrid desecration of the Nice salary. And I’ve had the greatest luck! I’ve been able to reincarnate one of the fine old Puritans. Let me intro- duce Mr. Stewed Fish, once an important New Englander.” “Glad to meet you, Mr. Fish,” I said, and shook his hand. It was cold and clammy, as a ghost’s hand should be. “Yea, verily, verily!” he said solemnly “His real name is longer,” burbled Miss Huckett. “His whole name Constantly Stewed Fish (isn’t it quaint and early colonial?) but I call him just plain Stewed Fish—it’s easier. He's going to be a great help to us in getting the blue laws passed—” “In my da: said Mr. Constantly Stewed Fish nasally, “the Sabbath was the Sabbath. In 1670 two lovers, John Draen by Pact Re Mrs. Blue-La you Ly s—I THOUGHT You saID PUT THE CAT OUT! s Sabbath! They are showing signs of joy! They are glad they are alive! There was nothing like that in my day.”” “TI should hope not!” exclaimed Miss Huckett. “In your day-— “In my day,” said Mr. Fish solemnly, “a fair field like this would not be given over to profane and useless sports. We would reserve this field as a place in which to burn witches.” “Yes,” said Miss Huckett hastily, and as if she wished to change the sub- ject. “And as for the motion pictures—” “We would burn old women here; the helpless old women,” said Mr. Stewed Fish, rubbing his hands together. “Here we would set up the stocks. Here we would cut the ears from the accursed Quakers and bore their tongues with hot tus) comicbooks.com