Judge — October 20, 1923 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

LADIES’ RING NO.A4350 of any kind Read this—the fairest diamond offer ever made! We will send you either of these genuine diamond, 14K. solid gold rings without a deposit’ of any kind. Send no money. Do not pay one cent C..O. D. ‘These rings are solid 14K. green ‘gold, with 18K. white gold tops, exquisitely hand e graved and beaded, ‘The pictures only give small idea of how striking they really are. Genuine Diamonds Each ring is set with a fine, large, extra brilliant, perfectly cut, blue-white genuine i .. These rings sell regularly for each, We cut the price to only payable $3.75 a month, no interest. Send No Money—No C. 0. D. Send the coupon without a penny and en- close your finger size, When the ring arrives pay no C.O. ‘eask no deposit of any kind. Just accept it and wear it a week. After the fi rial decide — and if you do not wish to buy, return the ring ‘and call the deal closed. If you decide to buy, send us-only $3.75. ‘Then pay balance at $3.75 a month. We make this startling offer because we know we ve You Wis to Wi import direct and 10 ‘middle xpense oF profit. ‘ou pay absolutely nothing unless satisfied after trial. We ask no deposit. What could be fairer than that? Order now! Send no money—j enclose your Ginger size, Mail the coupon today: Copyright 1923, Harold Lachman Co. A PROMISING AUTHOR by Walter Prichard Eaton and beautiful book. It is one of those books many people have heard of, and not so many have 1. When it was published, nobody read it, nor even bought it. The author was considered a freak, anyhow. He was graduated from Harvard College, and then instead of taking over his father’s lead pencil fac- tory, or becoming a corporation lawyer, or selling bonds for Lee, Higginson, or otherwise living a respectable life amid our best people, he went off and lived in a cabin and chummed with the chicka- dees. The book I mean is “The Maine Woods,” and the author is Henry David Thoreau. Having died long since, Thoreau has become a classic, and people speak of his way of life with awe and admiration. It is curious how respectable th can make you. Unfortunately, it seldom works the other way about. A great many respectable people remain so. They never get found out. Consider Long- fellow! I have been reading “The Maine Woods” on the shore of Kidney Pond, under the shadow of Ktaadn. And if any reader of JupGe thinks that I'm going to read any other books there, and tell him [= just been reading an interesting about them, he’s got another guess coming. I brought along a couple of new novels, 1923 model, but I never got I yond the first’ chapter. Old) Ktaa frowned down at me, and remarked in a deep growl, “What are you wasting your time over that piffle’ for, you poor insect?” And, upon my word, I couldn't tell him. When I tried to suggest that it was for the general information of the public and the modest stipend JupGE y me, he merely snorted a cloud right off the top of Abol Slide and rolled a couple of bowlders thundering down into the | great basin. But when I showed him Thoreau’s volume, a smile of golden sunshine swept over the autumn tapestry of his countenance, and the great mountain acknowledged a man who was fit for his company. And, after all, why should I, or any. body, be forever reviewing new books, when there are so many old ones that arr better, and that a new generation accepts on faith, without reading? If I could duce one hundred folks to read “The Maine Woods,” should I not be doing better by my job than if I induced equal number to buy “The Butterfl by Kathleen Norris? And it would be quite as profitable to the publishers, too. They don’t have to pay Thoreau a royalty. TTuoweau came up the west braneh of the Penobscot in a batteau in Septen- ber, 1846. Even then he didn’t come into an untouched wilderness. He came into a forest where the lumbermen had culled the white pines, to build those hideous houses of the mid-nineteenth century. — [ came up the west branch in a canoe in September, 1928, dodging pulpwood. all the way. The Maine wilderness is now furnishing the paper to print. our Sunday supplements on. Maybe it furnished the paper on which these words are printed. And the last state of those forests is the first! r. the Maine woods are still the wilderness—make no mistake about that. You'll leave your motor car behind and take to a tote road or a canoe if you want to get intimate with Ktaadn. You won't have to exist on salt pork, hard tack, and hemlock tea, as Thoreau did, but you won't have any dude's picnic. And. if you climb Ktaadn, you'll do it on your own legs, or not at all. Here, thank God! is one mountain that has maintained its self- respect. Nobody can climb it in a motor car. Nobody can even get anywhere near it in a motor car. ‘To conquer it you’ got to get down on your own two leg It is rumored that women have become so- enamored of the freedom and comfort of the summer bathing suit that they intend to discard the skirt and adopt eve- ning gowns along similar lines. (and with cann busi a ro: God: Kte 1 kta: The mon ‘Tho wife ladic up ¢ wel gran whit whi nati whi eau bals prit Sun comicbooks.com