Judge — November 7, 1925 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

AT THE FOLIES BERGERE AmERIcCAN—Why do they wear hats? Parisian—To keep their self-respect. "eal: brushed off his velvet coat and re- turned to the table.’ The slender, dark girl replaced the jeweled rubber dagger in her garter. The rapping on the door ceased. All was peaceful. The Red Mill, the most notorious | Apache resort in Paris, owned by | Abe Bloom, of Newark, N. J., was | all ready for another contingent of | tourists. Hugh Wood Paris Green! | eaR Git: Well, I hit Paris, — [ France, this a.m. and knocked | f the frogs for a goal, but believe me, Gil, this is one nifty town and the dames—some pips! We was walkin’ this morning on the Champs de Lizzie and up ahead of me I spots one beautiful baby. Deep blue eyes and stylish, Gil, just like that second Taking French Leave cr was up a dark alley in the Mont- marte. Half hidden by the shad- dows stood The Red Mill, the most notorious Apache resort in the city. At little round tables sat the | Apaches. At others the visitors from Cedar Rapids, Ia. and Harris- burg, Pa. The lights were low and red. There were sounds of throaty, sinister laughter. Wine flowed like water. A haze of smoke hung low like a pall. Suddenly, a dark, slender girl jumped from a table, pulled a jeweled dagger from her garter and made a lunge at a young Apache who was being attentive to a girl at another table. Immediately the violin and piano started up a tune, and the couple went into the Apache dance. At the end, she pulled out a jeweled pistol and shot him dead. Police whistles blew and there came an insistent rapping on the door. “Open—in the name of the law! bellowed a voice outside. The Iowans and Pennsylvanians looked about in horror. What would the boys at the Rotary Club say if they were caught in the most dis- reputable place in Paris? Then a little Apache dashed up to them and shouted, “If zee Americans want ; secret passageway to street, I show you for 500 francs.” In an instant the money was paid over, and the visitors reached the street through a | Then the dead man inside got up, on the left girl in the Follies we saw in Indianapolis. I sez to my splen- did self, that’s a real classy French girl. | So I sort of strolls up and looks at her out of the corner of my eye and she pretends not to see me, So L lifts the brown derby and gives her a deep, soulful look. She turns her head away, Gil, but I’m no boy to be discouraged. At the next corner, I steps up to her and winks—slowly and sort of Ritzi-like. She takes one look at me, Gil, turns to me and yells, “I’m gettin’ sick and tired of being in- sulted by you Frenchmen, Youse guy's is makin’ me sick.” Then she slaps me in the jaw, opens a copy of the New York Times | and sits down on a bench to read. Hoping you're the same, “« All Night.” ‘Open All Night Your friend, Art AS Soon ASL GeT eNoUGH | Moner, I'LL ge Bich Back a) ) v4 4, \ La GARE rz DU RAILWAY jens 2 STATION. “Judgment of Paris.” comicbooks.com