Judge — May 14, 1932 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

“Lay off me! JUDGE T tell yal don't know nothing about itl” The Diary of Mrs. Pepys By Baird Leonard PRIL —Awake betimes, read- ing in the third of the “Ask Me Another” books, and never was I so shamed at my lack of general knowl- edge, and specific, too, for that mat- ter, for, albeit I might not be ex- pected to know what a quern is, or a kitchen midden, it is a sorry com- ment on my memory to have written down my old frien Hengist and Horsa as a brace of Norsemen. But Lord! for years I have proceeded on the conviction that the only remnant of my education was a hazy idea that Caesar crossed the Rubicon in 49 B.C., and I did thank what gods y be that nobody ever asked me why. Which minds me of George Ade’s heroine who knew that Colum- bus discovered America and what kind of cold cream to use, and let it xo at that. To luncheon at a publick with Nan Armistage, who was in the depths because all the things she has ever yearned for, like and Paris dresses, now min- imum pr and she is not. suffi- ciently solvent to avail herself of the bargains. “Why,” quoth Nan, “even divore e down to three days and two hundred and fifty dollars in i Thence to play bridge at Midge Holmes’, greatly disturbed by the new rules which are in force amongst players who do not con- sider bush league, one of them being that a trick turned is quitted and cannot be inspected by declarer or opponents, and I do well recall how Dick Eyre told me that his first conscious sign of approach- ing senility was his asking to look at the last trick twice. able coats PRIL 26.—Marge Boothby in be- fore breakfast, full of the notion to change her every negotiable asset into gold, because she did hear some- + one yesterday say that in a year or two we would all be thankful to have as much as two hundred dollars in currency, but I paid her small heed, having listened to Marge’s fads and fancies for so many years that it is a wonder I have not had her com- mitted to an institution. But Sam, the zany, pretended as usual to re- vard her gravely, and encouraged her hoarding instinct by telling her not to part with a cent unless she found that she could buy pear- shaped diamond for a dollar and a half. Biff Haskins to luncheon, with news of a depletion in his salary, but merry enough withal, saying that the next cut he could withstand would be that of his throat. Also, speaking of a mutual acquaintance, » did announce that she was pecu- htly enough, without the e cuse of having been shell-shocked Much talk of many things, I won- dering: vehemently how much longer the American people are going to stand for this, that, and the other indignity, and it did suddenly occur to me that there is no such thing as the Amer people in the precise sense, nor has there been since the eventies. News these d that seats on the Stock Exchange are sell- ing for only a few thousand dollars, causing Samuel to remark that the only seat he would purchase at any price would be on a bandwagon. All the afternoon gone reading “Deep Streets,” a new novel of considerable interest, and there was one incident therein which dreadful as anything that eve namely, the casting into the Hudson of R d Trent's manuscript by : thief who had mistaken it for securi- ies, albeit why Trent had no carbon 3 beyond me. Lord! one of the most tragic occurrences in history, methinks, was the cast- ing into the fire of Carlyle’s only script of “The French Revolution” by a careless serving-maid of John Stuart Mill. The Cartwrights to dinner, always something of a trial to me, because I do know for a f. that Laura born in Cleveland's administration, yet she does put her age back even to the extent of ad- dressing me as a crone, and the way she does keep. her children in rompers and short frocks when they will soon be old enough to shave and vote is little short of a public scandal. Lord! it would not astonish me if she did try to get in on the Easter egg-rolling on the White House lawn. comicbooks.com