Judge, 1924-04-12 · page 28 of 36
Judge — April 12, 1924 — page 28: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Judge, 1924-04-12. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Aspirin Beware of Imitations! Unless you see the “Bayer Cross” on package or on tablets you are not getting the genuine Bayer Aspirin proved safe by millions and prescribed by physicians over twenty-three years for Colds Headache Toothache Lumbago Neuritis Rheumatism Neuralgia Pain, Pain Accept “Bayer Tablets of Aspirin’ only Each unbroken package contains proven directions. Handy boxes of twelve tablets cost few cents. Druggists also sell bottles of 24 and 100. Aspirin is the trade mark of Bayer Manufacture of Monoacetica dester of Salicylicacid. Men Wanted In practically every state to fill the demand for our well-known high-class specialties —food flavors, pudding powders, atain removers, toilet articles, etc. No experience needed. Fine out- fit furnished. Work all time or sparetime. Big earnings. Write quick. C. H. STUART & CO. 2 250 UnionSt. Newark, New York WEAR “E¥5" FRE perience to detect any whatever. Tey agers, on your ‘closest. friend: Om @ you never o1 > FREE: ‘you LW. Us cruces DOM. Fs toe Cotrotar of Mezicon Diamsacsser ft Mother Bullfrog (to children)—Haven’t you children got sense enough to come in out of the rain? THE TRUE CONSOLATION James Jox I went to tell of griefs that worried me, and put up a lament. I told, with eloquence untaught, of money I had lost; “The silver mine I lately bought has proved to be a frost. The well that should be gushing oil is dry as dust, I’m told, and arid is the virgin soil for which I blew my gold. My wealthy s feeling sore about my latest pome, and hair restorers don’t restore the ring- lets to my dome. Misfortune’s marked me for its own, and so to you I come; it is too sad to weep alone when things are out of plumb.” “It’s idle to lament,” he said, that heed- less Jox galoot, “to sprinkle ashes on your head, or wear a sackcloth suit. It's fool- ishness to cry, ‘Alas!” or wear a furrowed brow; for all our griefs will cut no grass a hundred years from now. “The tax collector breaks the hearts of those disposed to wail; he comes with wagonettes and carts and bears away the kale. The coin we need for rubber tires, for gas and oil and hay, for crayon por- traits of our sires, we see him bear awa; The coin we need for Volstead wines in gallons, pints and quarts, the coin we need for paying fines, when pinched for cutting warts, the coin we need for back- ing nags on far Tiajuana’s track, he bears away in crates and bags, and it will not come back. Such facts may jar you once or twice, the thinker must allow; but all these woes will cut no ice a hundred years from now. I ret the need of sympathy, and to uncle’ se E SEE our statesmen chase around, their whiskers white with foam; all sorts of treason they have found, they 26 snort of Teapot Dome. A score of burn- ing questions rise to spoil their rest hy night, and they appear with bloodshot eyes, and quiver in affright. And if you walk the village street or camp upon the farm, ten thousand voters you will mect who view with wild alarm. The Govern- ment is on the blink, a c1 s is on deck, the voters, ‘strike us pink, the country isa wreck!’ And men, a century ago, were whooping just the same; the country was a nest of woe, the Govern- ment a shame. Where are the issues of that time, the fever and despair? Where is the legislative crime that made men chew their hair? A hundred years have wiped them out as though they never were; and he would be an active scout who'd find the hide or fur. All living issues fall and pass, like weeds before a plow; and all our woes will cut no grass a hundred years from now. “Be patient, for a hundred years will soon be past, say I, and from some brighter, smoother spheres, we'll watch the push go by. We'll look down on this weepy globe, its sorrow and its pain, and see the kicker tear his robe, and hear the grouch com- plain. All generations yet unborn will grumble of their woes, they'll wail about an aching corn, or of a blistered nose. They'll overlook the fine and good to raise the same old row; but nothing ill will cut much wood a hundred years from now.” I try to make this logic help and soothe my stricken soul, when I'm inclined to raise a yelp o'er ills I cannot thole; but when one’s shedding briny tears that fairly scorch the hide, it’s hard to wait a hun- dred years to have the blame things dried. ‘and,’ sa; War Mason. comicbooks.com be in| anc agr pro his It ane res dra