Judge — July 9, 1921 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

To the Victor Belongs— By Hersert Hoose N all probability you can recall one of those mild afternoons in October, when the sun drifts in back of the clouds and remains there, hidden and contented, for the rest of the day. It was on just such an afternoon that this bit of near tragedy was enacted. The once white tent was a sombre gray, as a result of the unceasing wear and tear to which it had been subjected. The little white flag was heard to ripple its sad tale to the gently moving breezes. A rusty cannon was drawn up into position, but one knew it had barked its last warning to the subdued enemy. The guns that rested so firmly on the shoulders of the two guards were extremely shiny, and had the sun been sending its rays in their direction they would have flashed with blinding light. There was something distinctive about the setting that would be improper to divulge at this time. A very short, slim general sat inside the tent. His mood was imperious; yet, he seemed most verecund even in his victory. Soon, an officer, indeed the general of the defeated forces, appeared with a crimson smeared bandage fastened securely by a safety pin about this troubled brow. What a sight to see! He came on with a mighty air, head high, his bearing wholly pugnacious. Once the receiving formalities had Drawn by T. S. Towser THE MAN WHO WAS ALWAYS KIND TO ANIMALS REACHES PARADISE. Drawn by Maurice Berezov “THAT MAN HAS ONE OF THE BEST TENOR VOICES IN THE COUNTRY, BUT HE SIMPLY won’T SING.” “He wont? Wet THat’s THE ONLY KIND OF A TENOR I LIKE.” passed into history, the two eminent lead- ers of the respective warring contingents settled beside the creaking box, which was forced into use as a table. Their aides were among those present, and as peculiar as it seemed, nobody smoked! “Well,” drawled the victorious general, looking directly into his opponent’s stead- fast gaze, “what yer gotta offer?” The one ad- dressed took on arather vacuous expression. Squinting his eyes, he replied: “Ya licked us. We'll let ya git as far as th’ river, and stay there till some terms is made, see?” ““More’n that!” growled the other man in an angry high-pitched tone. He rose hastily. It was incon- ceivable that . two such gen- erals should fight, them- selves. The mo- ment was tense. Would they dare strike? Yes; they did strike! Once again the victorious gen- eral was victo- rious. The guards darted in between them so as to prevent any further unpremedi- tated hostilities from becoming an actu- ality. The aides stood aghast. There followed an agonizing silence. It was broken by a woman’s shrill cry. “Willie, how many times must I call you to supper? Tommy’s mother wants him too. Don’t let me speak again! Under- stand?” Gossip By Ricuarp Butter GLaENzER Gossip, of a dozen evils, —— You're the slyest, therefore worst; As to cotton-bolls the weevils, Quite innocuous at first, You grow, grow, grow, Till you ruin Something fine and pure as snow; Neither bruin Winter-lean Nor a leopard crazed with thirst Acts so famished, is so mean; You're a pest which spite has nursed. Feigning purity, you pander To the prudes that fear to do What their malice pins as slander On the frank till false seems true: You stab, stab, stab, Till you riddle Something decent with your blab: There’s no middle Course to take In avoiding plagues like you; For your sire is Eden’s snake, Dam, glib Gulliver’s Yahoo! Agreed Preacher—What did you think of my sermon on Jacob wrestling with the Angel? Parishioner—Fine. Do you know, that’s the only wrestling-match that I ever felt was really on the square? comicbooks.com