Judge — January 1933 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

Judge Mastress Pepys’ Journal By Baird Leonard ECEMBER 8. — Awake suffi- ciently betimes to be thankful I am not one of those clamorous for a hot beverage the moment their eyes are opened, having heard many persons say that th nought until they morning tea or coffee without mark- ing much display of quickened effi- ciency on their part after they have quaffed it. Lay pondering this and that, in especial some of my bétes- noires, such as turning radiators on cr off, reading of merchandise priced at so much “the” pound, putting drops in my eyes, eating on Japanese china, ete., and so to the morning post, mighty disappointed, as usual, that the long envelope from the Cen- tral Hanover Trust Co. was but a plea for patronage, and not the an- nouncement that some hitherto un- heard-of relative had died and left me a fortune, the triumph of hope over experience in this connection having been lately strengthened by the news from Boston that a plumb- er’s family has come into a part of the late Mistress Ida Wood's estate on the strength of an old tintype which had been relegated to their garret. Then at my accounts, little solaced by the reflection that my liabilities sound negligible beside those of France and Great Britain, forasmuch as it would be almost as easy for me to pay $95,000,000 by the fifteenth as it will be to pay $329.68. It must be a satisfaction, methinks, to have the nonchalance of an impostor or a bankrupt, but such a psychology will never be mine, for Lord! if I have an unsettled drapers’ balance of so little as seven dollars here and sixteen dollars there, I do fancy it to be the sole dinner table topic in the Bloomingdale and Wanamaker households. Eugenia Seabury in, telling me how great a help her name has been to her since the famous investigation having proved an Open Se everything in town save the speak- easies. She did also admonish me, “Look out! Here comes Jane!” 10 when I spoke of taking a figurative bull by the horns, “Never take a bull by the horns; take him by the tail— then you can let go when you want to.” To the Bannings for dinner, trotting my little brown dog Fafnir along with some misgivings as to a treach of his wonted blameless con- duct, but after Marge Boothby had spilled her cocktail on a brocade chair, Biff Haskins had barged into a mantel and broken a statuette, a Clem Lydecker had overturned of flowers, I ceased to worry about any damage my little animal might do. A fine meal, during which 1 overdid, like a fool, on mushrooms stuffed with onions and bread crumbs, and on a salad of red cab- bage and mayonnaise. ECEMBER 9.— Samuel in at what did seem the crack of dawn, fairly achoke with chatter, from the patness of Senator Lodge’s definition of the Democratic party as “a fortuitous concatenation of un- related prejudi to the relativity of viewpoints as instanced by those who cannot enter a taxicab without lamenting the shabbiness or sloven- liness of its interior and those who leap in with a whoop of joy and a strong inclination to stick both feet out a window. But he was halted in the development of such discourse by the arrival of a great package of endive grown by Joseph Reichlin at Westbury, whereupon he did set forth on a brisk constitution in search of some Roquefort that would be worthy of it. My hairdresser in betimes, and when she did inquire who had given me the wave of which comicbooks.com