Judge — June 25, 1921 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

SEXOLOGY by WILLIAM H. WALLING, A.M. M.D. imparts in one volume: WALL: NUTS By James Montgomery Flagg This clever picture, in full colors, sixtg, mounted on heavy reedy for the frame, sent prepaid for twenty - five JUDGE ART PRINT aas Fifth Avenue New York City Statistics Don't Lie “Do you beiieve it is possible for a man in business to be honest?” “Why not?) They say that ninety per cent. of all those who engage in business fail.” Children Are Like Nations Passerby—Why don’t you little boys disarm instead of fighting like this? Jimmie—What! Disarm! And me wid a club twice as big as his! wy ee. nen by T. 8. Towser Golferp—Fore! Coxrounn rt! I've xo PATIENCE WITH PEOPLE WHO DON'T WATCH Benin! What Becomes of Your Daylight Savings? By Bexjasis What of Your “ Jack’ W somebody do with it? Suppose you are worth seven hundred 1 above the funeral pro. do you think is the best HAT are you going to do with your money after you are dead I mean what are you going to let dollars over ar gram? What way to dispose of it? If you are a person of bibulous habits during your breathing time you might leave it for a stained-glass window in your favorite near-beer barroom. If you are a person of upl blue-nose tendencies, you might leave it to the Pennsylvania State Board of Film| Censors for the purchase of sufficient fish which exudes sufficient phosphorus t« create brain tissue. Anyhow, Verena Raby in Letter LXXXVI to Dicky Haven asks him what disposition she should make of her “jack” when she shuffled off her mortal wig (“Verena in the Midst,” E. V. Lucas; Doran & Company). Dicky’s answer to this I shall not reveal. | Did he choose for heir Septimus Tribe, | Horace Mun-Brown, Sir Smithfield Bum- | Mark or Little Mollie Rinso? | Why violate family secrets in a purely | humorous weekly? The sum, however. | was 50,000 pounds sterling. So you can} sce that Verena’s question was of some} ng and | tance to somebody. | The Tigers of the Sea | There was sand in her ocsophagus. T was a deadly di ing. Not a tele-| phone call : dly inquiry about my sick uncle, Pebbleford. Every music-box in the neighborhood was out of The evening papers had only | ing murder to relate, and not a commissior one intere single rum raid. Long-faced and slack of foot, I mooned | into the library. The first thing that hit | my eye was an unopened package on t ice-box (yes, that’s where we keep if) Looked like a book. I opened it. I read till early morn. The book was called “The Call of the| Surf,” by Van Campen Heilner and Frank | Stick, published by Doubleday, Page & Co. If I had never been interested in. surf. fishing (and I have fished in all the oceans of the world, including Coney Island), I should still consider this one of the most | fascinating books I ever read. | Here is the great art of Ike Walton | turned to a glorious adventure. There are! | chapters on Pacific coast surf-fishing, on! | off-shore fishing for le: De Casseres ving tuna and alba core; battles royal with four-hundred pounders (the Bill Tafts of the deep things about beach-camping, ccoking: outfits, tackle, and red-blooded stories that if you are a fisherman will make you crazy to be up and away—and if you are not a fisherman will make you coise your days misspent in some useful occupation This book is a great lark! Low Visibility HE awoke! Her eyes opened. She woke up. looked. She saw nothing but velvet | Good Gawd! Were her lamp: The bottomless was darkness », mean he darkness was bottomless. She propped herself up in bed and turned her head. Even the night outside wa dark. What could it mean? She knew i was noon by Pennsylvania daylight-saving time and 10:3 in Detroit She remained thus. A began to awake. The first, third had gone blooey. The Vitiating. It was shaped like a cuff. She knew the home brew had to be scummed—but she could not r A sound moved to the right been listening with her left car. A loused palm searched for her kimono. It was gone. In its place was a black velvet mask. It wasn’t herren! Her motor centers wouldn't fourth sens 1 second 4 silence was She ha work Her nerves were taut—like a bootlegger’s on the boundary line Suddenly, the black curtains parted, and beh« But what she saw you will find in * The Velvet Black” (Richard Washburn Child E. P. Dutton & Co.) Then, don't forget Knee” in this volume. joint velvet ‘The Cracking It’s about another On Solid Ground Binks—The bankers are putting the farmers back on their feet again. Spinks—Yeah? Binks—Ub-huh, They're taking automobiles away from them, their Tamed Lucy—Did you visit your city relatives long enough to feel at home in society? Wildwest—Yes, | got so that I could watch a big strapping man take a dollar from a girl at bridge, and not even think of hitting him.