Judge — June 16, 1923 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

The Horrible Warnings by Walt Mason saw an auto in the ditch; a loco- motive threw it there, and_ killed young Mr. Idle Rich, who busted speed laws everywhere. It was a mass of twisted steel, the priceless fenders shorn away, and through the top the steering wheel protruded in a ghastly way. And this,” I told my maiden aunt, “is what the speed fiends always when down the road they g regardless of all rule and law. They see a train come down the track, and they should stop to let it pass; instead, iaey make a crack, and press’ their Trilbys on the gas. And then the coroner appears, a bushel basket in his hand, and gathers up the legs and cars strewn over the adjacent lands. It is a grievous thing to see, it gives me fifteen kinds of pains; what fools, what fools these mortals be, to take such chances with ns!” “Indignantly I hear you rant, you hand out wisdom by the ton,” observ my cold and clammy aunt, “but you're as bad as anyone. You sce this wreck before your eyes, and for a day you'll drive with care, and as you drive you'll moralize, and push fine maxims through the air. But in a day you will forget the hideous warning just bestowed, and you will make the speed cops sweat as they pursue you up the road. And when you see a railway train you will not stop and watch it go, but you will push your blamed old wain some sixty miles an hour or so. And some day to our humble shack a messenger of gloom will come, and tell how, on the railway track, an’ engine knocked you out of plumb.” ~ mM Gristy aunt I'd like to squash, and prove her dire forebodings palicpmen, Should sare (© ( every tvamp ov iker should fit? avd a'epete Shee Cerner poche Se “assice fT. fox Lote © for the well dressed man ancl woman the flowerhelder 3+ | u Stop Savel For chose Sy, Wwacicen hem prwcked Husbands Automobile accessories for pedestrians. Why not? wrong; but nothing I could say would wash—she e truth, and truth is strong. r frightful warnings are no good, they hold us only for a day; we shudder, then we knock on wood, and go our old accustomed way, There always is an aunt around, to laugh our high resolves to scorn, to say our vows are empty sound, to lacerate a treasured corn When we behold the wayside wreck, and s “Henceforth we shall not speed,” there always is an aunt on deck, to cry: Indeed! Well, well! Inde The sheriff comes to Neighbor Jones, and sells his home and vine and tree; my neighbor sunk his stock of bones in dusty oil wells by the sea. The bucks he worked so hard to gain have gone to swell some faker's stack; now he is broke and Sir Walter Raleigh—1923 model. 7 waits in vain to see some minted plunks come back. I see him cleaned of house and home, and shorn of car and Sunday hat, and I remark: “In my old dome I hope there’s too much sense for that! This is a lesson to recall when I am tempted to invest in schemes proposed by men of gall with eyes upon my treasure chest. Far better draw my four per cent., with safety as my one best bet, than hand to some bewhiskered gent the seads I've earned in blood and sweat.” , “Such resolutions would enchant my withered heart, my sorrows cure,” ex- aims my moldy ‘maiden aunt, “if I believed they would endure. But you'll forget. your neighbor's woe when, first a stranger seeks your door, and all your surplus coin you'll blow for some punk mine that has no ore.” comicbooks. fi com