Judge — March 13, 1926 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

1 H { | tre in rather ahs abby house, or had his studio. I went about with where. Often we had women —women with whom could not n : any were very beautiful. A few 's last mistress there nis death went about in id had a different lover 's had to wear mourning, were with her. That she black all the time each week. Her lov: too, all the time they demanded. You can imagine that the women rar my husband there not else. But since I w most of the time—they did not dare be too bold. They thought I his mistress. had known that I was only his ‘And then one evening at the Moulin Rouge we met Madeleine, the dancing girl. Gregor enthralled by her lovelines: He told her at he was a sculptor and invited her to come to him... he wanted to model he answered, ‘I don't in the les i re a sculptor, but I'll come.’ “Madeleine the next day and very often after that—' waa Some women weep, some laugh, others scold when their men cease loving them. Does the woman in Arthur Schnitzler's “Dancing Girl” choose a wiser way? You'll find the famous author of “The Affaires of Anatole" and other delicate adventures into love his wise and worldly self in this delightful story in the cur- rent issue of SNAPPY Sronirs. 0 on all newsstands—20 cents. HAS NEW HAIR Kotalko Did It “Thad been los- ing my hair gradu- ally for a long time. At last I became almost completely bald, with hardly a hair on my head “This small photograph is taken from a foot- ball group, and can be verified by any number of people who know just how I looked when bald. ‘The larger photo shows my appearance after using Kotalko.” This verified statement is by Jack Evans, well known athlete. He is but one of the big legion of users of Kotalko who voluntarily attest it has stopped falling hair, eliminated dandruff, or aided new, luxuriant hair growth. KOTALKO is sold by busy druggists everywhere. FREE Trial Box To prove the efficacy of Kotalko, for men’s, wo- men’s and children’s hair, the producers are givin: root Boxes. coupon or write, to KOTAL C 3521 Station rk. . New Yor Please send me Free Box of Kotalko. Name ..... Address... Motorist—Ah! There goes Jones with his nose in the air! Thinks himself everybody, just because he’s the only man in the street. who hasn't got a motor-car! Elsie’s Mad Ride | “Heaves help me!” Elsie cried, as perched perilously on the ing roof of a runaway box car, she rushed down the mountain side. The car had broken loose at the top of the grade. Some dastardly villain had unhooked the car with a | buttonhook. She held two fish in her lap, one a sad-eyed salmon, and the other a wall-eyed pike. This was Pike's Peak! It was ten miles to the curve at the bottom. The car was loaded with moonshine and dynamite! Dynamite! Her fish! Poor fish! How could she save them now? She had found them that morning calmly sitting under an old tanbark tree on the mountain side, smoking their briar pipes in peace. Imagine that! She had hurried to their side, knocked the nefarious pipes from their mouths and gathered them up flopping into her apron. Then she climbed to the top of the box car, intending to take the poor fish back to the Atlantic seaboard and find a good sea-boarding house for them— but now—now, unless some sort of a miracle happened she was a gone goose so would the fish be gone geese— and she didn’t want any geese! No! Anything but geese! She hummed an old tune: “The geese fly East, The geese fly West, But I sure know where the geese fly best.” Geese fly! She'd heard of ahorsefly and a bluebottle fly, but never a geese fly, but let it pass—how could she stop that lunging car roaring down the mountain side at 106 miles an hour! a —F ing Show Clutching the sad-eyed salmon and the wall-eyed pike to her breast, she climbed down in the teeth of the gale—she noted a few cavities and remarked that they needed filling— she'd see a dentist about it. She reached the lower round of the ladder —it wasn’t round, it was square, a square round. She stood upon it with both feet, and reached her other foot down toward the gravel of the road-bed. The gravel flew up in her face. A small bit of it lodged in the sad-eyed salmon’s off eye. She got it out with her hat pin. The car lurched on. It roared on down the mountain, gaining in momentum at every jump. The curve was just ahead. Heavens! The curve. The embankment! The dynamite! Was this theend! No, no! She climbed again to the top of the car. The wind tore her hose. She bumped her nose—ripped her clothes; but she hung onto the fish with a grip of cold steel. She reached the top of the car. It hurdled on toward the curve—on, on—her past life wriggled before her so did the fish—then she saw some- thing beside her—it was the brake. She put on the emergency and stop- ped the car. She had fish for supper. Nate Collier Dad He who laughs last is probably the one who intended to tell the story himself a little later. —Humorist rd He—Dearest, our engagement is off. A fortune teller just told me that I was to marry a blonde in a month. She—Oh, that’s all right! _Ican be a blonde ina month. —Answers 23 comicbooks.com