Judge — June 25, 1927 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE BACK TO" HE MINE MEN! THERE’LL BE NO STRIKE TODAY! “I say, mater,” said a little horseradish to his ma one day, “Ts that bay rum in that bottle on the sideboard?” no!” replied Mrs. Updegraff, “That’s glue, dummy!” twinkled Stepan, “Perhaps that’s why I can’t get my hat off!” Rhode Island has avery high percentage of illiteracy. First Svupurpanivr “Guilty” How about it, put my still in your cellar I'll let you put your aerial on my roof. “Innocent” ol’ timer— “Disagreement” “Why, “thal” if you let me The Complete Speechmaker A Manual of Elegant and Appro- priate Replies for Every Occasion By S. J. Pererman a White ing from. C Vines a President i Fellow craftsmen, ladies and gents: Don’t think I am trying to “horse” you when I say that I firmly believe our profession to be one of the greatest of all time. Our watchword, boys, is vice”; and although the pecuniary rewards may be small, neverthe- less we have been “cleaning up” (ha, ha!). When I was twelve years old, my father wanted me to become tailor, but already I had felt the call of the re and I knew I wanted to come a highway sanitician. I studied the fundamentals of the game every odd moment I had; long after the family had gone to bed I used to sit up poring over old books : ing with th ‘as ing subject. When I was fifteen, I apprenticed myself to a fine old craftsman named Fritz Atterbury, who had charge of Fifth Avenue from Fort ond Street to the F He stern old martinet and at thirty paces could spot a cigar butt I had overlooked. When I was twenty-one I received a call to Cambridge, | Massachusetts, where I was made corporal in the crack Harvard unit of the White Wings. While I was there, we defeated the Yale team in com- petitive drill. Eventually I re- turned to New York as a in the old Fighting Ninth, the cleanest bunch of boys I ever worked with. ago I received the D. was made colonel quently a major-gene But already sweeping changes have revolutionized our vocation. Our old: four-footed friend, the herse, is fast being replaced by that invention of the devil, the horseless carriage or “‘auto.” Fifteen years from now our grandchildren, coming across our once natty uniforms in some dusty attic, will wonder what they rep- resent. Let us bivouac our brushes, boys, burn our banners, and bury our brooms; our day has come. 14 comicbooks.com