Judge — October 13, 1923 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

Vrite ith our Vets. actory Whiery ul be | ite tine this regu rs find ossible Ary on ler the money ‘annot P new hour The Old Age and Virtue by Walt Mason ALL grow highly moral as we e in years; with vice we ‘I, and folly draws s. On benches frail and skiddy we sit, beneath the trees, and watch the gay and giddy go past us, as they please. And gaffers old and shaking look ‘on them as they go, and say the trail they're taking will lead them down to woe. “What boys I see around me!” cries gray-haired Jasper Chee; “Their sinful ways confound. me, they'll reach the gallows tree! They should be home pe- rusing the works of Parson Betts; instead of that they're boozing and ‘smoking cigarettes. They make the welkin clatter at most ungodly hours; the village pe they shatter, disturb us in our bowe They hold their petting parties, they dance the long hours through; — these young and frisky smarties are saddening to view. When we old boys were younger ed at home o” nights, we had no thirst or hunger for sinful, vain delights. We read the works of Bunyan—how good and fine they are!—and we would smoke an onion instead of a cigar.” “Oh, Gaffer Chee,” I mutter, “the young must have their fling, the young must have their flutter, the young must dance and sing. We mustn’t be too moral, now that we've had our day, now that our hair, once sorrel, has turned to wintry gra: We mustn't, in December, forget the days of June; once, I can well remember, you were a giddy loon. The words of Bunyan scorning, you roamed the streets with me; ‘We won’t go home till morning,’ we sang at half past three. The streets we oft paraded, we merry lads in line, the vintner’s booth invaded, and called for flagons nine. With high and moist emotion we saw the night advance, and blew our hard-earned groschen on tinhorn games of chance. “Ws WERE the joyous laughers, as we went whooping by; and old and weary gaffers would look on us and sigh; just as old birds are looking on youth to-<« beshrewing and ng, predicting tears and whey. you, I’m fond of scolding, and springing moral gas, when I sit here be- holding the young and thought Ss. And then my thoughts go drifting to times long, long ago, when I was pinched for lifting three melons in a row; and you were pinched for s and a hen; those da ing, and youth was buoyant th Old dames grow highly mo as ancient gents; through store-made teeth of coral they push their sour la- ments. “Alas,” sighs Granny Waters, “we live in evil days; we see our dotty daughters despise the good old w: Bedecked in silks and ermines the me by their acts; they should be reading sermons, they should be peddling tracts. The world is punk and rotten, it’s full of jazzing trash, old methods are for- happy “What yo’ got in that little black bag?” “Them’s my instruments. “Quit yo’ kiddin’, man! gotten, old truths are gone to smash.” “Oh, granny,” I remind her, “do you recall the day when you and Billy Winder eloped and ran away, and how the village papers played up the stirring tale, describ- ing all your capers, while Billy sat in jail?” And thus I stop the knocking of Dad and Mother Goose; the dismal past unlocking, I let the ghosts run loose. I'm a veterinary.” Yo’ ain’t never been in no wah!” ‘The Mardi Gras is over, ‘The leaves fall from the trees. The hose is rolled from off the lawn And also off the knees. Dyer—So he didn't get her after all? Ryer—No, he didn’t have coupons. enough Little fishes in an aquarium! One must never mock or harry ‘em. They, like all us other creatures, Are not responsible for their features.