Judge — November 12, 1921 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

That Much, and No More Edward Emery, the well-known actor, lives in Mamaroneck. The other night about one o'clock, while exercising his dogs, he was approached by an old Irish- woman with her arms full of bundles. She said she had to get to New York. Mr. Emery said she could catch a train at Larchmont, but not at Mamaroneck. “But Oi can’t walk to Larchmont,” she protested. Mr. Emery got into his auto and drove her to the Larchmont station. As she left the car she gazed at him and said: “Yer an Englishman, ain’t yez?” “Yes, mother,” he replied. “Well,” she said, “all Oi got to say is to hill wid Lloyd Garge!”—New York Evening World. And Finally the Fine “What comes after the purchase price?” asks an auto ad. The order may vary somewhat, but it is usually the insurance man, the tire dealer, the accessory fiend, and a half-dozen members of the motorcycle squad.— Buffalo Express. Getting Acquainted A new foreman took charge of the shop this particular morning, and many of the men had not as yet met him. About the neti As WS SS we Profiteer’s Wife—Henry, one of the guests has got his pockets full of those souvenir spoons we've been a life-time collectin’. areyou doing around here, stranger?” “I’m Dodgen, the new foreman,” was the reply. “So are we, come in and have a smoke.”—Forbes Magazine (N. The Late Comer St. Peter had had a busy day and Gabriel had not loafed any himself. Throngs had visited the gate and been looked over. Those who answered their ques- tionnaires successfully and satisfac- torily were admitted. For others it was, “Going down!” Finally, when the books were about to be closed for the day, a soul that had belonged to a newspaper man when on earth came puffing along. “What’ll we do with him—the books are practically closed for the day?” said Peter to Gabriel: Before Gabriel had had time to an- swer, the shade of the journalist timidly spoke up: “You might label me ‘Too Late to Classify,’ and let me in anyway. I can’t go to the other place—I for- got my fire badge.”—Philadelphia Ledger. Pat's New Eye “Why aren’t you wearing the glass eye you bought, Pat?” “An’ why shud Oi? Oi paid five dollars fer it an’ Oi can’t see a dom bit better wid it than widout it!” Waste of Energy An Arizona cotton grower, in dis- charging one of his negro hands, was lamenting his hard luck. “Cot- ton has gone to the dogs, this year, George—I’'m a big loser.” “Yassah,” returned the darky, “I reckon you is, boss.” “And,” went on the grower, “I’m out all the money I’ve paid you for wages, and the grub you've eaten besides.” middle of the p—— ae forenoon he was making a tour of the buildings to familiarize him - self with the lay- out, when on passing a_ small enclosure he saw two workmen in- side who were sit- ting down smok- ing. Before he had the opportu- nity to speak one of the men said: “Hello, and what “These City Charitable institutions are doing a great work, Mandy!” 21 1 bY gigea an,” | agreed the darky, “T guess you is, white folks. “Well, confound you,” growled the grower, “you don’t seem to be worrying your head any!” “Lawdy,” re- turned the darky. “Ain’t a bit of use of me an’ you both worryin’ ’bout the same thing, is they?” comicbooks.com