Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1926-07-21

/ Not one OF the children we know
would get any kick out of nacaroni.
''Shucksv' they would pout, "Ain't
+, yu ever goin' to have anything else
sides this old stuff?"I
| See these model children beam,
however. Little Billie, who is get
ting the first helping, has the broad
est grin of all, for he is about to
taste the transcendent delights Of this
grand food.
Johnny, who comes next, has a
slightly lesser smile, but from ear to
ear, at that, while Susie, at the end,
positively smirks.
| Then there is the clipper lad who
has his mouth crammed with raisin
| tart. We have never been able to look
at that young man without feeling an
almost irresistible desire to punch him
in the jaw, he Is so arrogantly
healthy.
| Certainly his table manners are of
| the worst--but what an appetite!
| Perhaps the reason we hate the kid is
that we envy his interior arrangement.
| Any young fellow who can so stuff
himself with tarts Is a man. AS for
ourselves, we do not like raisins, al
| though we are forced to take them
sometimes in rice pudding, etc. Every
man to his taste. Though we are COM
PEELED to look at this confoundedly i'm
pudent boy until we are 80 years old,
we will not like raisins, and we here
and now notify the packers that they
are wasting their advertising money,
| so far as we are concerned.
The collar manufacturers, we no
tice, have given up the fine young fell
low with blonde hair, who looked as If
the bone development in his jaw had
been secured at the expense of the
usual skull contents, and have hired a
dark-haired chap with a mustache to
pose in their. very latest collar crea-
ton. The trend, evidently, is away
from the handsome callow youth to
the handsome business sap. Between
the two we find 1t hard to choose. The
first didn't look as If he had enough
sense to come In out Of the rain, and
the second looks as If he would be
afraid to go out into it.
We never knew but one man who
looked like one of these collar fellows,
and he was a right decent chap who
couldn't help his looks. and finally
took to. soft shirts with collars at
tached.
Our brain, while riding on the bus,
is queer mixture Of soaps, tomato
soup. boys magazines. raisin tarts,
rIfacaroni, all jostled around together
by the motion Of the vehicle and the
juxtaposition of the separate ads.
There seems to be no rhyme or rea-
son about the placing of public vehicle
advertisements. You are just as apt
as not to see a soap placed alongside
white flour cake, or the soup ad
next the plea for the greater use of
Clipped soap for washing machines.
The color work on street car ads is
particularly good. We doubt If there
is a rider In Washington who has not
felt his mouth water when looking at
that handsome piece OF chocolate cake.
No doubt 7,67S,943 separate cakes
have been constructed as the result
of that picture.
We resent, however, the so-called
command" ads We will not, mister
positively will not--buy our boy a copy
of your magazine when we step off
the bus. In the first place, there is no
newsstand there, and in the second
place we are too busy trying to avoid
being run over. And, for Heavens
sake, put some other sort of animal
in--we are tired Of looking at that
hippopotamus!