Judge — June 3, 1922 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

“The British, who are all wrong, are gobbling up Russian trade.” EDITORIAL By WiLuiaM ALLEN WHITE WE HOOT A FEW LINES ERTAINLY Secretary of State Hughes has the inex- orable logic of statecraft on his side in refusing to recognize the Soviet government of Russia until it conforms to the civilized way of men. He is right and we are right and everybody else is right; but in the meantime being right, we can view with calm dispassion the way the British, who are all wrong, are going into Russia, gobbling up Russian trade and Russian concessions as they go. What we want is not to sell our goods or get at Russian business! What we want is to be right; to be able to tell our grandchildren that when it came to recognizing a wicked and irregular government we sacrificed great busi- ness opportunities to satisfy our yearning for a logical Position. We don't care to have our workmen at work making goods to sell to a people that have unorthodox ideas of interest, and low opinions of capital. What we want is a clear conscience and more winter bread lines in our own cities. THE NEW DISPENSATION S THE summer approaches and the human race begins A to shed its outer skin, and to shine forth in its gayer raiment, conventions and conferences and caucuses and conclaves of mothers and tailors and police officers and various upholders of the social fabric are assembling every few days to consider “the female of the species,” and chiefly the youngster. She would seem to be president of the “in bad” club, a monster of terrible mien It seems she shows her knees, and displays her front line earthworks in the presence of the enemy, and flaunts her back and dis closes the outlines of her more or less graceful figure, if any, as the case may be, in shocking fashion. Strong men tremble, and pale. Society is chattering its teeth with fear and nothing this side of Genoa is so upsetting to a tottering civilization as the amount of epidermis this gay and festive daughter of to-day is showing in the fond hope of getting a man for her peace and comfort. How the angels must laugh at the spectacle of civilized man quailing before his daughter. AND THE OLD ORDER ET it is no strange thing on the planet. Every genera- tion is afraid of its youth. Probably the first thing before which Adam and Eve stood in awe, after they left the Garden, was little Cain and Abel. And if there had been a little Evalyne and Adamette to perforate, ruffle, and refold and redecorate the primal fig leaf, our first parents probably would have given up life as a bad job, leaving H. G. Wells practically without a history of mankind to write It has been “ever thus” from the “childhood’s hour” of the race. The blue funk is the primeval passion of man, as he stands in the presence of his own flesh and blood. We have only to throw back our memories a little matter of forty or fifty years, or even twenty-five or thirty, to find our fathers and mothers having a fit at little sister. Forty years ago it was her bustle that raised their goose flesh. The bustle, of course, was as much of a man-catcher as her bare legs are to-day. The poor dear had to do something to attract the eyes of grandpa. So she stuffed a lot of news- comicbooks.com