Judge — September 26, 1925 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

F THERE is anything I don’t want, I it is a piece of the Shenandoah. In fact, having just moved, there is not anything in the world that I want at this moment (with the possible exception of Liberty Bonds—they stack up compact and pretty in your safety box and don’t propagate like coat hangers) and it is hard for me to understand human nature which collects things to col- lect dust. “Many more came to steal a piece of the wreckage. Automobiles and motorcycles were laden with aluminum, lattice-work from the frame of the broken ship.” This is quoted from a newspaper account of the Shenandoah disaster. Persons who need mementoes to remind them of the past haven’t much of a present, and no future. All over Ohio, for the next fifty years, there will be wives bored stiff with husbands’ set speeches to visi- tors about that morning they rushed out to see the prostrate Shenandoah on the hilly scub land near Ava. “One man was seen carrying away a lone bed slipper,” continues the newspaper account. He—Aunt Ella’s going abroad. Sue—What have you there? “A souvenir incinerator.” P. S. by Don Herold Well, there might be some sense to that. There is such a thing as needing a bed slipper. I, myself, have been shy one bed slipper many a morning. Right now, however, I have made up my mind that if I am ever again shy one bed slipper, I will throw the remaining one (Continued on page 30) Ballad (Translated from the Scotch) S= was only a bootlegger’s daugh- ter, Virginia, but Ginny to me, I pint for her now she is absinthe, here’s how!— Because we were quarting, you see. Sweet Ginny Gordon, papa’s asleep with the warden, Weep no more tears in the gin, Ginny dear, It’s watered too much to be liquor, I fear. Everything’s still in the cellar, Sweet Ginny Gordon, di wine, Make no more gin for your pop, it’s asin, Marry me, dear, and make mine. Last night I said, “Let us go walk- ing. She couldn’t quite make up her mind. But just then the still gave a roar like amill— And we went out together, I find. Sweet Ginny Gordon, etc. A corking fine lady was Ginny, I weep for her spirit, I vow, I caught in a tree, but she left little me, She’s passing Australia by now. Sweet Ginny Gordon, etc., Itd. xxx George A. Paravicini The early worm. comicbooks.com ,