Judge — July 16, 1921 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

Drawn by Cauvert Sxrru Optimit Fools Rush In By Jay G’Dee AM an imaginative soul. That is the reason you are reading this; that and the fact that I read this: “For sale, a baby carriage, never used.” Merely a classified ad in a Houston paper, but it took hold on me and would not let me alone. Sympathy is the natural environment of my soul. I re-read the ad. My fancy lingered on the last two words; the pathos of them; the tragedy that was in them. From the innermost depths of my re- sponsive being I stretched out an invisible hand to the father—the mother—not in fact, perhaps, but in fancy, I was sure— to comfort them. They must know of my pity for them; that I was trying to the best of my feeble ability to share with them their sorrow, to lift if only such a little the load of loneliness they bore, loneliness for the little one that had been denied r sale, a baby carriage, never used.” Mentally, I put my hand on that poor, lonesome, would-be father’s shoulder. Figuratively, I wept with him; literally, I wept for him. I must see him and condole with him. Alas! how well I knew the pain of his un satisfied longings. I noted the address and lost no time. The cares of life might intrude. I must see him while the mood lasted. I would not have him doubt my sincerity and even the truest sympathy, for the sufferings of another may be affected by the uncom- promising realities of one’s own existence. Hence the need for haste. Fortunately I found him at home. He was mowing the front lawn, and whistling cheerfully as he worked. I paused an instant to gaze and admire. —(sent to hoe garden)—Hutty Gee! It was such a brave life he was living. His heart broken under the crushing weight of unfulfilled desire, but to the world this man, with the cancer of loneliness eating daily, hourly, into his very soul, turned a face that gave no sign. I was proud of the honor that was so near, the honor of grasping the hand of this unquenchable spirit—or, at least, of the mortal body that surrounded it. I stammered in my confusion, “I—I—I understand that you have a b-b-baby c-c-carriage for sale.” I poured the light of sympathy from the windows of my soul. I could very nearly see it, myself. “That’s right.” he answered me in a But I’ve Got SOMETHING TO BE THANKFUL For! brave—a defiant tone, it seemed. not going to let the world know. “T—I——Could you give me—your- reasons for selling?” I trembled. Was I too precipitate? Had I been too abrupt? The greatest surgeons are the tenderest, though they may seem needlessly cruel to the uninitiated, but he could see that I—surely he could “Certainly. You see we figured too low. It’s only a single and—” he grinned, damn him—‘ when the time came we had to get a double-seater.”” He was Heart Left-Overs A man likes warmed-over love almost as well as he does hash Drawn by Paut Reniy Uncrowvep Proressiox