Judge — June 3, 1922 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

Digest of For years we have been searching high and low for that hero of the movies who appears always at the right moment and hoists the villain. The other day we found him selling collars at a shirt place. We have wanted to meet the villain face to face—that black scoundrel of the plains, sinful, profane, death-defy- ing. We found him the other day, too, carrying out dead dishes in a restau- rant. And the lovely girl, the creature of emotions and eyelashes, the dream of our summers, who is always sitting easily in a magnificent couch chair, tak- ing tea from an obsequious butler. We found her, too. She was selling tickets through the window as we came out from the show.—Richmond Times-Dis- patch. “Is that you, John?” asked Mrs. Dubwaite over the telephone. “Yes,” said Dubwaite. “What's the nature of the touch?” “Is your fashionable stenographer there?” “Yes. What about her?” “Nothing. Just look her over and then see if you can't come home to your own wife in a cheerful frame of mind. I've just bought myself a new outfit."—Birmingham Age-Herald. She—Oh, darling! going to have a tooth! He—Seems to be the only thing he hasn’t had.—Pearson’s Weekly (Lon- don). I do believe he’s If you were mar- Mistress—Marie! ried, would you believe all your hus- band told you? Maid—Lawks, no mum! _ But for the peace and quietness I'd make him think I did—London Mail. “I stayed for more than an hour and watched the perfessor in the side show eat glass, tacks, fishhooks, red hot coals, and so on,” said old Dave Dod- der of Frog Level, Ark. “Struck me as about the most interesting anecdote I ever witnessed. B’switched if I know how he could do it!” “He won't, any more, I reckon,” re- plied a neighbor. “You left too soon to see the besc part of the entertain- ment. A spell after you went away a feller from down yonder in Devil's Holler slipped the perfessor a dram of right new licker, and put him plumb out of business. As nigh as I under- stood it, the doctor ‘lowed he wouldn't never swaller nuth'n’ else.”—Kansas City Star. “I thought he was a friend of yours?” “He used to be.” “What happened?” “He told me I was getting a bargain when I bought his second-hand car."— Detroit Free Press. Stevens County has a small but rather remarkable colored settlement. It was founded in the early eighties. Nearly every family lives in its own home- stead. Their crops of maize, broom- corn and watermelons never fail in this favored district. Many of them are in independent circumstances. “How many families have you in the settlement, uncle?” we asked a vener- able old member of the race. “Why, nephew,” he replied, “there are summas about sixty.” “You must have a hard time getting preachers,” we again ventured, having in mind the racial love of religious exercise. “ "Deed we has, sah. about twenty preaches Hugoton Hermes. There is only regular.” — Mr. Halefeller (wildly) — What, thirty-nine dollars to get that hat trimmed? It's robbery! His Wife (sweetly)—Really? Why, I understand it costs some men more than that to get trimmed in a poker game.—Boston Transcript. “Who, in your opinion, is the noblest character in history?” “It'll be time enough to decide that,” said Senator Sorghum, “when I'm ready to take the stump. We haven't even made the nominations as yet."—Wash- ington Star. “IT don’t bear him any malice, but I hope he'll be thoroughly unhappy.” “Make sure of it by marrying him!” —Le Ruy Blas (Paris). comicbooks.com