Judge — October 16, 1926 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

Our Headache Corner Qe p Edited exclusively d for those who are \g) occasionally afflict- rN ed with headaches. - They are our best Edited by people, the ones with the superiority HENRY HEADACHE complex. Since starting this colyum I have received three proposals of mar riage, one challenge to fight (all filed together), and 1,172 requests for advice from headache suf ferers. And, pert on bridge, even if I'm only nized authority on pains old bean. in the 5 estall correspo} etc., I'll tell you olossal coast-to-coast reputation is built on— It is my advice to treat head- aches rationally ‘ I tell “my public” to lay off of all potent drugs, with their weaken- ing effects. And, instead, to use the reliable remedy, known for 35 years, the “safe, balanced prescription.” ** * salled_Kohler-Antidote, and you feeling like a million AaA+1. dollars, VANITY FAIR NUMBER JUDGE Will be on sale next week at all Newsstands. It may be well to get there early Remember—The Saturday Evening Post Number Sold out in two days. Gores Gortes (Gans I-MADE_AT KEY WEST—| INS'1ST UPON KEMP’ S BALSAM FOR THAT COUGH! “Hello, Brown, why. » Treally wouldn't have recognized you if it hada’t been for my um- brella.” Mr. Mitchit Blocks Traffic (Continued from page 6) were somewhere between sixteen warned a man who hap- pened to be on the spot. “Don't put such thoughts into their heads.” But it was too late. In a second people came pouring out of the subway, erying, “Tieup! ‘Tieup!” “L didn't mean it,” sobbed the girl. “Word-s, word-s, words,” mut- tered the man, id turned out. to be not a man at all but a little girl poet from Brooklyn. A bootlegger arrived in a police department limousine. He was a police captain on Thursdays. ‘This was Thursday “For God's sake, Mr. Mitchit!” he cried. (He had got the name from the extras.) “Something must he done! Do you really want this taxi?” you've shaved off vour beard and moustache Passing Show whimpered) Mr. “but if it should rain—2” Mitchit. He waited for some one to finish his sentence. Many tried. The tabloid newspapers gave away thou- sands of dollars for the best answers but not one solved the problem. At last, just jam was becoming a menace to the city, a tall, heavy-set gentleman arrived on It was Nicholas Murray Butler, president. of Columbia Uni- versity. and owner of the t suppressed presidential desire in the country. when the the scene, said Mr. Butler without a moment's hesitation. “Where to¥” asked Mr. Mitchit, and the crowd murmured. belliger- ently. They were there to see fair pl “Come,” ‘oa telephone.” “By what authority do you order this man to leave here rowled the crowd, comicbooks.com