Judge — December 5, 1925 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

7 The dread Pyorrhea bia begins with bleeding guins | UST as the soeseth ofa iponiatatde tions, so are héalthy teeth dependent up on healthy guns, : — ous oe rg sikoenes commonly sche pas Maat or Dares “a rnunle of ig Keep portal feet in oy ete foo pop bene Wor owt fit. we will supply rt 0 ri Sparen Man ‘Tae Burr < Bexarp “Korrecs Shape” ‘Shoes for men nat alls TONS aboes $2). Beas ane Was Had By [ was one of those tettrperance parties, ‘Where you play games, Tatellectual games such as “Guess- What - tiame - is-on - your-back” or “Ghosts” or “Anagrams.” I like my little games (post office and spin the bottle) as fvell as the next fellow and fm consideted full of fun by thost of my best friends but when they start these thinking bees I just run off and hide. However, some one always comes to look for the and drags me back again to the gaming- room. If they only wouldn’t hunt tne out I'd be happy all by myself. Thus was the big idea born, one that threatens to absolutely revolutionize parlor sports, exclusive of petting. We had finished shooting a couple of snappy rounds of “Consequences” . and sotne one had hauled me out of the upper part of the ice box to play in an “Animal - vegetable - mineral guessing tournament” when it came to me like a flash. Once in the room, I cried, “Wait! T’'ve got a new game. It’s called ‘Search Wartant.’” “How do you play it?” evetyone inquired. “Well, you see it’s this way, I’m the sheriff and all you people are a band of murderers, or you can be counterfeiters or bootleggers if you'd tather. You go and hide to keep out of the clutches of the law and I must look for you. When I find one of you I say, ‘T’ve got a search war- rant for you’ and you say, ‘try and search me’ and then we race for goal, that’s the piano. Whoever gets there last has to be the next sheriff and look for some one else un- til everyone is found. The last per- son to be caught gets a prize.” They thought that was a simply swell game. What would the prize Fond Husband (after the slip)—There, Darling! Aren't you glad I refused to let You shingle your hair? —Gaisty comicbooks.com