Judge — July 22, 1922 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

Drawn by HERMAN PALMER. George—It’s right there in the laundry room. My old dirty shirt is right there in the laundry room. Mother—No. Here’s your silk shirt dirty, though. (Groans from the bathroom.) George (hopefully)—Tom can run down and get one. Is Tom there? He knows ‘my size—I want a striped blue silk like my other one with— Mother—Tom is down town, dear. Let’s see. Haven't you a white one up there? George—Aw-ww-w! (Business of mother looking in upstairs bureau drawer.) George—Find one, Mom? Mother—Yes, dear. (Bathroom door slams. Trembling of dining-room chandelier below George's bedroom. Little sister has forestalled further interruption of a charming fairy tale by laying out brother’s clothes. Seven and a half minutes later.) George—Where’s my hat? (Business of coming downstairs in the same fashion he went up.) George—Mom, where’s my hat? Sis, where’s my hat? Surely Dad wouldn’t wear my hat off! Gosh! _ Mother—I think you must have taken it upstairs with you, dear. It isn’t O Ma! “A book of verses underneath the bough, No jug of wine, no loaf of bread, no thou Beside me singing in the wilderness, Ah, Paradise were wilderness enow!” around here. Can’t you run upand see? George (dashing upstairs)—Oh, gosh! (One minute later, down again, hat on.) George—Mom, won't you phone Mil- dred’s mom and tell her to tell Mildred that I'm on the way? Gosh, I’m late! Fix it up for me. Will you, Mom? (Door left wide open. Ker-chunk— ker-chug—chug-chug, pur-rr-rrr-rrrrrrrrr. George—Good-by, Mom! sae Lights by Monte Sohn O® men have gone by, Of lights that they held most dear, Awesome glories that filled the eye Or brilliant with charm or cheer. The lighthouse lamp with its flash and flight, The light in a baby’s smile, The light in a loving eye, at sight, Have each been writ in their while. But mine is the happiest light. Its flame Cleaves the night like a sun— The light that the kitchen windows frame At night when my work is done. written, in times The Northern lights and a dawn of day That follows a night of pain; 5 The million lights that are called Broad- way In a torrent of April rain; The flare of gold in a sunset’s rays; The light of a moonlit sea; Never a light of the lot that plays Deep in the soul of me. Give me the kitchen’s golden light Through the evening’s sable pall, When a weary man comes home at night: It’s the happiest light of all. The lights of romance in tailored rhyme Are only dressed to the part, But the song I sing about supper time Is born down near my heart. ‘ And though the lights of the poets shine Immortal in prints and books, The joy in the light I claim as mine Is never confined to looks. For the light that beckons me up the street With a “Welcome home again,” Is a féteful promise of things to eat, Through the kitchen window pane. FHS Courtship makes a fellow spoon, but marriage makes him fork over. Sas Fear of failure is the worst of failure. comicbooks.com