Judge — February 4, 1922 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

She—Me married daughter took me to the cinema last night. I didn’t like to say nothink, but it was properly wasted on me. _I'm so deaf I couldn't hear a word.—The Tatler (London). “There is a popular man. Has oodles of friends. Everybody likes him. He is a magnet—a perfect mag- net. He draws all people. His—” “Pleasing personality, I suppose?” “Naw; million dollars."—Richmond Times-Dispatch. Mrs. Bunker—He sure is unpopular with the golfers since he worked so hard on his invention. Mr. Bunker—What's the invention? “A golf ball that registers the strokes during the course of the game, and there is no chance to lower the score.” —Houston Post. The young golfer, a hopeless novice, possessed good intentions. His first job after joining a golf club was not to study the game, but to study the club rules. He was a stickler for obedience. He went round the course alone at first, having no desire to worry his friends with his bad play. When at last they saw him returning they were surprised to find that he was wheeling a big wheelbarrow. “What on earth have you got there?” they asked. “Turf,” replied the novice. “I'm going to replace it.” — Pittsburgh Chronicle-Telegraph. “Dust you off, suh?” asked the Pull- man porter. “With snow on the ground? no dust to-day.” “Oh, we keeps de dust in de kyah.” —Louisville Courier-Journal. There's “See here,” protested the lawyer, “if I'm going to defend you, you'll have to drop that guilty look.” “I can’t help it,” replied his client. “I'm new in the bootlegging business, and I have such a poor memory for faces, for all I know I may have solicited the judge.” — Birmingham Age-Herald. “Well! Well!” interestedly ejacu- lated a motorist who had stopped his vehicle to pick up a young fellow in the big road. “So you were going to walk ten miles to town in your bare feet? You are a pretty big fellow to be going barefoot.” “Yep, I'm twenty years old,” replied young Jurd Jogg of Straddle Ridge, Ark. “I've wore shoes off and on for a year or so, but the dad-blame things make me so clumsy I can’t run down a rabbit to save my life!"—Kansas City Star. “Ike,” said the proprietor of the Boston Bargain House, “stand out in front and advertise our fire sale.” “What do you want me to do?” “Yell ‘Fire’ as loud as you can and add ‘Sale’ in a whisper. You'll soon draw a crowd.” — Birmingham Age- Herald. “Well, how is business?” inquired the old lawyer. “Only one case, so far,” replied the young lawyer. ve started to sue for Miss Richleigh’s hand.”"—Boston Transcript. A New Hampshire man had his estate up for a sale and a prospective purchaser had been looking over it. “I find everything just as you adver- tised,” he reported; “that is, all ex- cept the fine stream you mentioned.” “It runs through the piece of woods at the end of the meadow,” the owner explained. “What! That little brook? Why, it doesn’t hold much more than a spoonful. You don't call that a fine stream, do you?” “Well, if it was much finer you couldn't see it at all,” said the owner blandly.—Boston Transcript. “That old professor doesn’t know anything about life.” “Bah, we are not in his class. He kisses the maids and gets by on the plea that he is absent-minded." —Louis- ville Courier-Journal. Friend—Haven't you gone house- keeping yet? Newedd—No; we're waiting till we save up enough to live in keeping with the style of the wedding presents. —Boston Transcript. Mr. Nagg—I suppose now you wish you were free to marry again? Mrs. Nagg—No, just free.—London Mail.