Judge — April 16, 1921 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

| An Ill-Natured Wish ‘ wish that I were rich, I've many wishes—none of which Quite satisfies my hunger But oftenest, my vain ambish Emerges from a mental fog And speaks again my favorite wish— I wish I were a dog! Oh, not to chase th’ elusive cat, And not to bay th’ inconstant moon; Tis not for this and not for that I beg this bounteous boon; Not to be servant to a man, Nor woman-pampered And not to hear the wor Do everything but speak.” tand sleck fe can But, oh, to be a dog, and free From friends to whom I'm now polite! Ohappy thought! O joy! O Gee, The people I would bite! Cleveland Plain Dealer. times wish that I were younger; Jazz So! WHERE ARE YOU GOING. MY PRETTY MAI “D's GOING A-JAzzING, SIR,” SE SAID.—Le Journal Amusant ( Maud and the Judge AUD MULLER on a busy day Bossed the farm hands making hay. The judge passed by and gave a glance It brought no feeling of romance. And yet he spoke in accents bland, And even tried to hold her hand. But what he said, "twixt you and me, Was, “Maud, I hope you'll vote for me.’ —Washington Star. The Chapeau Is Its Own Reward She—A VERY MODEST HAT COSTS AT LEAST FORTY DOLLARS. He—Goov Heavens! Wuat pos AN tmopest one cost?—Die Muskete (Vienna). ye and Pert—Thomas A. Irish poct, said at a luncheon in Phila- delphia: “Whatever you think of the Irish question, you've got to admit that the Irish can always come back at you with— er—a pat answer. “Once a dinner in Dublin, 1 sat beside a pretty Irish actress. She said that her sex was more religious than ours, but I said in answer: ““Oh, you only go to church to sce what the women have got on.’ “Well” said the pretty actress, ‘you men only go to the theater to see what we haven't got on.’""—Detroit Free Press. The Friendly Enemy—A story that might be taken to heart by the factions that are making Ireland miserable is told in Frederick Lynch’s “ Recollections of Andrew Carnegie.” When the circus came to town, Mr. Carnegie said, Pat had no money for a ticket. He offered his services to the circus ager for the price of admission. The manager said, “Pat, the lion died last night, and we saved his pelt. If you'll crawl into that till the show opens, you can see every- thing.” Pat got into the pelt and was led to the cage. As he was getting in he saw a huge Bengal tiger glowering at him from the farther end of the cage. “I'll not go into the cage with thot turrible baste,” he shouted. Whereupon the “tiger” lifted up its head and said, “ome right in, Pat; ’m an Irishman, too,”’—Outlook. comicbooks.com