Judge — April 1, 1922 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

: te ¢ de Jack—Halloa, Bert, who’s the girl? Bert—What d’you mean? “Well, you’re not wearing a collar like that for fun, are you?”—Tit-Bits (London). Charles Gibson tells us of a down- an-out who came into the railroad office with a tale of woe and tried to work him for transportation out of town. “I came to Cleveland with good prospects three months ago,” explained the unfortunate one. “I thought I could land a good position with a cer- tain company on account of the work I’d done in my own town on their line. But they didn’t know anything about me, and they turned me down. I took my letters of introduction to another firm; same result. I was some pump- kins at home, but they couldn’t see me here. I didn’t have no pull. Then I tried the railroads. I useter work in the deepo, back there. But in Cleveland they didn’t seem to think that amounted to anything. I wanta go back. Now, as I said, I useter be a railroader. Could I git a pass?” “My dear man,” explained Mr. Gib- son kindly, “the law allows us to give passes to nobody. There’s no excep- tion—nobody!” “That’s me!” cried the derelict. “Gimme the pass!”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. A poor family unexpectedly came into possession of a fortune. They purchased a farm, with hens, cows and pigs. One day a little daughter of the family was showing a visitor about the place. “Do your hens lay many eggs?” he asked. “Oh, they can,” was the haughty reply, “but in our position they don’t have to.”—Toronto Telegram. The preacher was out on the links and thought a small moral lesson might not be amiss. “I notice,” he remarked mildly, “that the players who get the lowest scores are not those who. swear.” “Why the hell should they?” snorted the gloomy golfer, as he dug up another slice of turf.—Pickup, * Lord Angus Kennedy tells the story of how once, while on a walking tour in a remote part of the Scottish High- _, lands, he came to a lonely inn. Being ravenously hungry he entered, and asked the landlady for some poached eggs, as being the most likely dish to be provided at so short notice. The landlady shook her head. “We haven’t any eggs, sir,” she said. “But,” lowering her voice to a whisper, “I dinna doot that I could get you a fine dish of poached salmon.”—Pearson’s Weekly (London). Mrs. Worth had just learned that her negro workwoman, Aunt Dinah, had at the age of seventy married for the fourth time. “Why, Aunt Dinah,” she exclaimed, “you surely haven’t married again!” “Yassum, honey, I has.” was Aunt Dinah’s smiling reply. “Jes’ as of’en as de Lawd takes ’em, so will I.”"— Argonaut. Her Second Husband—You're al- ways complaining! It wasn’t neces- sary for you to re-marry, you know, madam! “Yes, I know I was wrong to re- marry. And if only my husband had been with me when you proposed he would never have permitted it."—Le Regiment (Paris). “What! “Yes, 24 Kermit Roosevelt; who has eight black-maned lions to his credit, was talking at an Oyster Bay luncheon about marksmanship. “My friend Bang,” he said, “is a fine shot. The other evening a chicken was required for dinner, and Bang volunteered to go out into the barn- yard and shoot it. “Well, he disappeared with his gun, and soon a shot was heard, then another, then three or four shots in rapid succession. But Bang didn’t return with the chicken. “So little Willie was sent out to see what the trouble was. Several more shots sounded during his ab- sense; finally he came back. “‘Well,’ his mother said impati- ently, ‘hasn’t papa shot that chicken yet?’ “‘No,’ said Willie. ‘It won’t get in the way.’”—Los Angeles Times. First Workingman—What sort of a job have you got now? Second Workingman—Oh, I collect alms on the Putreaux bridge, between midnight and one o’clock in the morn- ing. “Are the people particularly gener- ous around there at that hour?” “Yes. The generally give me every- thing they have on them.”—Le Baion- nette (Paris). You are drinking and belong to a temperance society!” But I haven’t paid my yearly subscription yet.”—Strix (Stockholm). comicooks corp