Judge — July 2, 1921 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

XUM Contributory Indi- gence By Irene Van VALKENBURG HE evening papers cacried an = interview with the new bil- lionaire which several million peo- ple read avidly. “At seventeen I was a poor, ignorant lad with no assets ex- cept my motto, ‘Keep everlast- ingly at it.’ I owe nothing to any man. I have kept everlast- ingly at it, by sheer will-power and physical might. That is how I accumulated my fortune. Any man can do the same.” “By sheer will-power he per- suaded my father to put up the money which laid the foundation for his billions,” mused his wife, “but it ruined my father.” “It’s a lie!” cried a certain famous saloon-keeper. “Didn’t I give him the dope on the Grafting business? Didn’t I put him right with the city officials? Huh! He couldn’t’ve swung a_ thing without me, not with all the money in the world!” The man who had been his partner in the early days laughed mirthlessly. “He stole my girl and made me out a crook to the police. I owe him something! But he broke my spirit—I can’t pay.” A beggar in Madison Square read it. “There’s something in this physical might business,” he mumbled to himself. He looked up at the clock in the tower. “In about two hours I think I'll risk it—my will- power and physical might against his burglar-alarm system. Any man can do the same—yeh! Thanks for the tip, bo!” A Back-Fence Radical Rags, the Alley Cat—There goes that gadding house cat again. She leaves her kittens to take care’ of themselves and runs around with a different sweet- heart every night. His Steady—She’s an emanci- pated cat. She believes in living her own lives in her own way. Can You Beat It? “Hello there, Dubbs, how did you find the Sahara? Pretty hot?” “It’s so hot the lizards carry sticks to climb up so they can cool their feet.”” Fortified His Wifie—Albert, I shall be terribly afraid while you are away tonight. Her Hubby—Nonsense, my dear. You have my life insurance policy and youknow theagent said it would be a protection to you. Drawn by Rosert Lewen Lovers to the End By Bernavine Supe [Iz was an old-fashioned gar- den. A bench stood beneath a weeping-willow tree. Upon the bench a sturdy soldier and a fair maid sat side by side. His ador- ing eyes rested upon the sweet beauty of her face. She was beautiful. He compared the azure blue of her eyes to the cool depths of a mountain pool. Her crimson lips curved delicately into a fine sensitive line, the shape of Cupid’s bow. The faint rose tints in her cheeks accen- tuated the smooth oval of her face. Her hair hung in a shim- mering sheen over her youthful shoulders. Here and there where the sun caughtit, it resembled Sentiment De Luxe: “I say, James, JUST CUT THIS ON THE NEAREST TR: , WILL YOU, OLD CHAP?” The Craze for Jazz By Wm. S. Apxins OSSINI made his music ; 0, And it had merit, too, perhaps. He had one vital defect, though, He didn’t write for drums or traps. Gounod composed in able way, For him the folks threw up their caps. I fear he wouldn’t do today, He didn’t write for drums or traps. The great composers of the past Were doubtless good chaps. But now the pace is rather fast, You gotta write for drums and traps. and worthy Drawn by James Hammon Mr. Bug—Come up HERE, MY DEAR, AND LOOK AT THIS SWELL EMPTY APARTMENT ON THE TOP FLOOR! n burnished gold. Our hero thought it the “stuff that dreams are made of.” He knew, for he was a dreamer. All day they sat insilence. Per- haps the weeping-willow had some effect upon their spirits. Then, gradually the sun sank behind the distant hill, and a shadowy dusk fell over all, holding them in its mysterious thrall. A light flashed across the sky. The heavens shook and Jove’s wrath held sway there. However, the ears of the lovers were deaf to nature’s forces. Then the rain came down in tor- rents. The Maid’s fair locks now hung in dripping strings. The flush of youth that had glowed upon her cheeks was now transferred to the front of her dainty white waist. The cherry red of the delicate lips ran in streaks over the dimpled chin. But still they sat. What cared they for such trifles? They were happy. A hurried step sounded on the soggy path leading to the lover’s hid- den retreat. It came nearer and nearer. They did not move. Then the footsteps ceased and a child stopped before the bench and looked accusingly at the culprits. “You naughty, naughty chil- dren! The rain has ruined you. I shall put you to bed without any supper.” And with that she ran home, a rain-soaked doll under each arm. The Victim Son—Dad, I need a larger al- lowance. Dad—Why? Son—Mother and grand- mother are always cadging my cigarettes. Well-Turned “What makes the men stare at us so?” inquired the flapper’s left ankle. “Tt must be our turn,” replied the right. comicbooks.com