Judge — October 24, 1925 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

! \\ “Why do you say yours 18 the most up-to-date church in town, Gar- denia?” “Well, Ganzooks, it has a garage, radio store, antique shoppe, and crossword puzzle bookshop in the basement.” “Nassy flies on daddy’s nose!” Little Travels FGHANISTAN is a land of bare rocks, though its mountains are sometimes snow-capped. Its win- ters are cold and blustering and its summers dry and scorching. The natives are noted for their lack of education and clothing. They hate strangers and murder them upon the slightest provocation. Fortunately for tourists, this unattractive country is inaccessible; it can be reached only by crossing lofty mountains and wide deserts upon which soft drink stands are very few and far between in- deed. As we were traveling for pleasure we avoided Afghanistan. We went to Paris instead. Our trip was tiring, so we seated ourselves at the tables of a sidewalk café as a means of getting back our breaths. After the usual preliminary rounds we set out on a sight-seeing tour. Strolling along the boulevards, we paused every now and then to ad- mire the glassware. Finally, we en- tered a large square. We inquired its name from one another. “Ah!” volunteered a rather dizzy member of our party, “‘lookit all the buildings moving around. Zis mus’ be ze Place de la Revolution.” (We let him lay.) After embracing one another we partook of a little café noir and con- tinued on our way. We stopped at the Louvre to see Mona Liza. She had her twin sister in the same frame with her. Both of them smiled at us. Later, as we toddled along, we burst into song and aria. A gendarme tried to stop us. “Isn’t this L’Avenue de l’Opera?” we demanded rather huskily. Dejected because his vocal efforts had been frowned upon, one of our men tried to drown himself in a nearby fountain. He was unsuc- cessful in hisattempt. He explained when we fished him out that, al- though he had moved neither his arms nor his legs, his head had kept swimming. “Let’s all go visit Nancy!” sug- gested our guide. “Too many of us,” said somebody, and we let it go at that. Before we quitted France we spent some time in Blois and Roche- fort, in the heart of the fromage belt. R. C. O’Brien