Judge — December 7, 1907 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

“Toacharm. Inten days my cancerous humor had become a humorous cancer; this dropped off one day as I was fairly shaking with laughter at a really good- natured joke I had written my- sell.” The mate, who had happened in just in time to hear this last yarn; ordered the steamer stop- ped, and the story-teller was ma- rooned on Long Island. BANJO JIM. UT in de sunshine all day long, Pickin’ on his ol” banjo; Thump dem keys en sing his song While Ah mus’ plow en hoe. Dess es happy ¢s a toad in de gras’, Brown toes peepin’ fro his shoes 5 Ragged es sin, but still he grin— De banjo dribe away de blues. “Plink! Plink! Plink ! Plunk! Plunk! Plunk!” Det am de banjo’s tune ; He play all day Till twilight gray— En den he play by de moon. Out on de road by de light ob de moon, Banjo on his bac’, Meet ol Jim en he strike up a tune On his way to de levee shac’, Dance up de riveh en Jim he play Till de moon en stahs am dim, Chicken’en ham ena midnight dram— Wish Ah was Banjo Jim! “Plink ! Plink! Plink! Plunk! Plunk! Plunk!" Twis' dem yelleh keys ; Ot Banjo Jim, Ab envy him— He play en take his ease ! DAD AND HIS TROUBLESOME CHRISTMAS TWINS. Puzzle: Find dad, A HUMORISTIC CURE. HEY sat in the salon of a luxurious Sound steamer, whiling away the time before retiring in a discussion of the topics of the day, and at last one man remarked that he had visited the wireless-telegraph station on board earlier in the evening ; from wireless transmission it was but astep to the discussion of telepathy, another to mental science, and finally they were engaged in a heated debate, pro and con, con- cerning Eddyism. A jewelry drummer said that a friend of his had been cured of a disease of seventeen years’ standing. “What was it?” innocently inquired one of the coterie. “Corns on the soles of his feet,” was the reply, and the questioner handed around his cigar-case. “Make all the sport you wish to regarding mental science,” put in a new speaker, « but it’s a fact it cured me.” “Give us the yarn,” yelled the chorus. “Tt was like this, I had long been writing for the daily papers, short, pithy bits of satirical humor anent the topics of the hour, until by reason of long practice, and some pessimism included, my work got acrid, biting and ill-natured, My editor at last told me flatly I must let up, said I was developing a very cantankerous sort of humor. This idea acted upon me, I could not get rid of it, and at last a soreness came on my chin. I consulted a physician who said I had a cancerous humor, and he began to treat it locally. He failed, and after several attempts with the regular practitioners, I went to a mental healer. He diagnosed my case from the standpoint of his cult, said my disease was due to the state of mind I was in, and advised a complete reversal of m: thought, the cultivation of a broad, jovial and hearty view of life it work ?” A HOLIDAY WARNING. Lrrrte motuer—'* Now if yer sit still while | do my housework I'll tell Santa Claus to bring yer a new right lamp, and if yer don't sit still yer won't @t nothin’; that's jest what yer won't."* comicbooks.com