Judge — October 31, 1925 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

— “Why aren't you and Sammy playing better this morning?” “Aw, Sammy is not himself to-day.” My Postal Service [" was early October. “This,” said De Puyster, my host, point- ing to a long, brilliantly lit room, “is my mystery chamber, my cham- ber of relics and curios. Come, enter.” Along the sides of a richly fur- nished room I saw thousands upon thousands of picture post-cards, from all parts of the world. Some bore the imprint of Germany. Many were France and Italy. Others came from Russia and Sweden. “But why,” I asked my host, “show me just a room with picture post- cards in it?” “Come closer,” he murmured, “and examine each one of these cards. They date back to 1886 and represent the cards that have been sent to me by my friends during their summer vacations.” “But why the mystery?” I de- manded. “If you can decipher the writing on one of them I will give you one thou- sand dollars!” he shrieked. “My friends send me cards with noble sen- timents on them, summer after summer, but they are so badly scribbled that no one can read them. Thus they go into my mystery chamber.” I picked up one or two. As near as I could make out they read: “Szasdg you&—ght chsdweqt wkksh evuj—Annie.” Another seemed to go this way: “sdgafwt shrdlieu tieuio, wsaei—Jake.” = Thousands upon thousands of cards greeted my eye. Suddenly, a haze lifted from my mind and I feverishly ran up ‘and down the room, scanning each card as I ran. Triumphantly, I turned to my host. “Sir,” I announced, “T have deciphered every one of the post-cards in this room. Every one since 1886.” “What do they say?” shouted De Puyster. “Quick!” “Half!” I shouted, “are scribbled to mean ‘Wish you were here—the food’s fine’ and the other half read ‘We sleep under two blankets every night.’ ” “But this one,” yelled my host, holding up a particularly scrawled one, “What does this one read?” “X marks our room over the lake,” I triumphantly replied, holding out a hand for my thousand. Hugh Wood SEEING New Arabian Nights Gossip of the Gods T= gods were standing outside Venus’s beauty parlor and dis- cussing the gossip of the day. “Juno, I have eleven hundred motion’ picture palaces named after me?” said Apollo, anent nothing in particular. “That’s nothing,” answered Vul- can, “I have enough matches named after me to burn them all down.” It was getting too warm for Mer- cury, so he crawled out of his ther- mometer and went off. “Another crack like that,” re- marked Neptune o Vulcan, “and T'll put you out.” “You're all wet!” chirped Pan, and the King of the Seas commenced to boil over. “No fighting, please,” ch:med in Mars, who tried to change the sub- ject by asking: “How old is Mother Earth, anyway?” Father Time happened along at this moment. “Perhaps Time will tell,” sug- gested Hercules in a powerful voice. “T'll be only too glad to,” replied the old man. ‘Mother Earth is as old as the hills.” And with that they all returned to their work. R. C. O’Brien And Each with a Title! Puttsville is to have a new building of several thousand stories. It will be known as the Puttsville Public Library. AMERICA WORST >» JOU are now entering DETROIT, Where the Ford Joke Originated. comicbooks.com