Judge — October 28, 1922 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

d al. geon s to We f we We hadn't hit the window once and yet we had to apologize for it. That wasn’t the worst of it because when we got home from the visit there was further punish- nent without any apologies at all. To this day any form of shooting awakens our memory of the home coming and we tingle—but not all over. The sensation is distinctly localized. AS FOR fishing, most of our activities have been spent in going after hard- Il crabs. Others may speak of the salmon and the tarpon with awe, but it seems to us that the soft shell crab is the rreatest fighter in the ocean. The salmon may give you a battle up till the time he is landed, but that is the end of it. Catching the crab is only half the victory. Hours later when you have him k in the kitchen the sportsman’s skill and courage is tested even more severely in getting him out of the basket. It has always seemed to us that game laws don’t begin to go half far enough. Deer and rabbits are amply protected, and the buffalo is absolutely coddled, hut here in New York it is alwa open season for cash customers. There is no time of the r in which the coal man may not nick us to his heart’s content, and the ticket speculator openly laughs at his bleeding victims without regard to the month. And consider the boot- r who moves devastatingly through the community without let or hindrance from anybody except maybe a revenue officer. The Yale football team ought to be protected, too. There should be seasons in which it was a misdemeanor for a Harvard man to raise a hand against it except in kindness. And we also have a feeling that some- thing ought to be done for the readers of Jevce. It must be most painful for them to be so constantly racked with jaughter. Certainly there ought to be a closed season on humor. Indeed that is the reason we wrote this article. lad Smith—I suppose that when you got home at three o’clock the other morning your wife told you in so many words that you were a brute. Jones (ruefully)—In so many words: yes. Getting the fur benny out of hock Tremer® Foe ToMOMT The Broadway brigand The Unpardonable Sin by George Cecil Cowing HE boss sent Millerby to write up an entertainment. Millerby was, he con- ceded, the star reporter on the staff of the Daily Breeze in our town. If one be- lieved Millerby, he had been a_ star reporter in many places and had “cov- ered” every news event of any impor- tance from the Sepoy rebellion to the World War. One gathered that Millerby always landed simultaneously with the marines, When Millerby returned to the office at the conclusion of the entertainment to write his strange caprice seized him. Probably it was the first time in his life such an impulse had affected him. He wrote his story. There being no one else in the office at the time, he headed it and sent it upstairs to the composing-room. The article appeared in the Daily Breeze next morning as follows: “The Rhododendron Club committed ‘The Belle of Society’ at the Opera House last night for the benefit of the City Hall Square band stand fund. We need public improvements in this town but it should not be necessary to go to such lengths as this to get them, "The Belle of Society’ was written during his. spare hours by Jake Willets, the pre- scription clerk at the Wideawake Drug Store ke must have put tincture of asofe- doeti in it by mis- “The leading part was taken as usual by Miss Amy Wheatleaf. Her voice is made of metal castings. It cost her father a lot of money to have the valves ground at a Con- servatory in Chi- cago, but if she can sing, I’m Caruso. punt of the performance a ( “At that, Amy was too good for Glen Denning, the perfect thirty-six from Wil- son's haberdashery, who played the part of the young man in love with the belle. He was supposed to be a naval officer but it was hard to tell whether he was a policeman or a Modern Woodman. To make it more difficult, Denning wore spats. He should eat more vitamines, His voice couldn’t be heard back of the fifth row. “The comedian of the piece was Will Chutney. He got off some killing lines about home-brew and why does Mayor Hawkins wear pink suspenders? —Theré wasn’t a dry eye in the house. No one had remembered to bring a rope. Chut- ney recited Robert W. Service’s “The Shooting of Dan Megrew.’ It was cruel and unusual. Service has lots of friends here and they are pretty sore about it. “The chorus was made up of girls from families that have to be in it or they'll burn down the Opera House, and an assortment of our leading pool sharks. The show kept people up until after midnight.” Millerby beat the boss and a mob of angry readers to the train. He never come back to Central City. “roasted” a home talent show. He The Old Soakum He Who Gets His by GM E ARE but lowly strung by Fate; Assigned to play a part, or small or great— The one a town The other but a painted, silly clown. But, be he ere so well or meanly cast Eventually—first or haply last, Some woman in this age of super jz Takes the stage and lo! he gets the razz. puppets, vapid bounder about vA