Judge — August 21, 1926 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE said, “Yes, sir.” “Well,” says I, “if this is a saloon, I’m a hurdle jumper! Where’s th’ bar?” I inquires. “The harbor bar,” says he, “is about two miles out.” Now, what he meant by that I haven't the least idea. Come to find out this here saloon is nothing but an ordinary dining- room like they have at the Mills Hotel or the Plaza, or any of those hotels back home. I asked the steward, he’s the guy who looks after the stews you know, why they called a dining-room a saloon, an’ he says, “Because it’s the place you go to eat.” Imagine that! None of our friends ever used to go to saloons to eat, did they, Jupce, hey? But I overlooked his ignorance. I said, “All right, old timer, I'll take your word for it, but where do I go to get adrink?” “In the buffay,” he says. “The what?” I lisps. You see I thought a buffay was some sort of dining-room furniture, but, JupGE, I guess we better draw the curtain about here, as they say on Broadway. What followed the aforementioned conversation, ain’t nobody’s busi- ness. “What now, Admetus?” You'll hear from me again, JupGE, “T’'m going in for the sixteen-pound shot-put. The trainer told me to when I get over there where they start in with a tennis ball and work up.” used to behead people for writing editorials like yours. Hoping you are the same, Affectionately, Letters from a Boob Abroad Nate Collier Aboard the Good Ship Whooperup, Somewhere on the Atlantic EAR JupGE: Well, Jupce, I sup- pose you've been wondering if I got on the boat and sailed away across the pond like the way I told you I was going to or not. Yes, JupGE, as we old ocean voyagers say we cast off at midnight. I don’t know just what it was we cast off, but I noticed two or three tourists were missing. The chauffeur of the boat put itinto reverse and with tail-light gleaming we backed out into the Hudson. Then we headed down the bay and out to the open sea. I went downstairs to the saloon and, Jupce, would you believe it, they didn’t even have a bar in it, no mirrors, no brass rails or nuthin’; just a lot of tables screwed to the floor with some stationary office chairs. I thought I was_in the wrong room, so I asked a sort of a drum major standing there in uni- form, “Was this the saloon?” He “Ours not to reason why.” comicbooks.com