Judge — June 7, 1924 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

\J Watching People ] 128 t9 watch people Wherever I find them wily old:roles that we Fates have Tn igned them, No stage presents dramas So thoroughly thrilling, Nor comedies breathing \ Jiumor so killing. Tove Lo wateh people! IL wearies me never To pick out the stupid And label the To pity the threadbare ever; Who've thousands to dress them, And envy the toppers Who've nothing to bless them. Tove to watch people! The armies that hurry Fach morning to town are Porsonified worry. These legions, when evening To barracks returns them, Are eare-free as Momus And nothing concerns them. T love to watch people And read in their faces The guile they think hidden, The unproclaimed graces. The slums scowling squalor, The Avenue’s glory, ‘The piers and the beaches Each gives one a story. I love to watch people, And always my prayer is ‘That once again, somewhere, When Fortune's sky fair is, Tl find that sweet lady Who smiled (with discretion) And left my heart beating Beyond all suppression. The ex-filling station employee reverts to habit. De Guess who! THEY ALSO SERVE ut 1 wooden rattle, blood- hounds, a red flag and Roman candles. Then when Pwant to attract my waiter’s attention I shall have some slight chance. I hope T make myself clear. 1 am through with spending forty-five minutes each meal sitting and tapping the edge of my glass with my knife in the hope that one of the waiters will look at me. the slight) pleasure of filling glasses half full of water, and working out T yo into a restart if [e APrER whe T shall tak mite, a tin horn, i long a stick of dy bugle calls, palls after a half hour has sped by. I enter the restaurant at noon. Pres- ently a waiter puts on a tablecloth. Five minutes later he brings me a spoon, a glass of water, and one biscuit without butter. ‘Then he disappears. For ten minutes To draw concentric circles on the tablecloth, and eat) my biseuit. Then Tsay “Waiter!” Unfortunately Tsay it to the gentle- man who waits on the next table. He sticks his fingers in his cars and runs out to tell the management. that I have tempted him to break the union rules and wait on another tabl nasty looks from the cashier, and no one comes near my part of the restaurant for another fifteen minutes. I get several 5 In the meantime T tap my glass now and then with my spoon, and whistle. Once T catch sight of a waiter far to r. the rear. [raise my eyebrows and nod my head to beckon him nearer. — He smiles at me, shakes his finger coquet- tishly, winks, and skips away down the aisle and out through the swinging door. I sink a little lower in my chair, and glance around cautiously to see if anyone has noticed us. Thirty minutes later my waiter dashes atn nd asks me what T want. diately my mind grows blank. 1 stam- mer, paw the air feebly and make a rattling noise in my throat. Immne- The waiter disappears for good. When they evening some one notices a pale, under- sweeping out that nourished young man slumped over one of the tables. A glance at the letters in his pocket show him to be none other than the author of this entertaining article, No, Tam through with this sort of thing. From now on [ shall maintain my waiter’s attention, if [have to attach him to me with a long piece of rubber elastic. Bard “Pancho Villa Meets His Wife. in Philadelphia Bulletin. Did the Mrs. get the decision? Headline Ccomicbooks.com