Judge — November 1, 1913 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

Slowgirl's description, making off across the vacant lots to the open country to the ‘west. Grandpap Crupton, against the re- peated count of both his son and daughter-in-law, held to the theory that the prowler had been carry- ing infrontof himasack, which must have been filled with Crupton, Jr., chickens. To one oft- ae repeated suggestion, \—— > grandpap replied scorn- fully that he had lived nigh eighty years himself and had never yet seen a man as fat as that fellow would have had to be to have looked like he did. got out the old musket that had served him when he joined the Home Guards and Jaid it by his bed, sleeping peacefully and causing all ‘the other members of the family to sleep with one eye and one ear, waiting in fear and trembling for the catastrophe. While everybody was still talking and speculating about the last visitation, Johnson's old watchdog, Jumbo, began to bark savagely about sunrise one morning. He, for all his years, suddenly stirred out of his habitual lethargy, leaped the front fence and tore off down the road. In five minutes he returned with a small, jagged piece of striped cloth that might easily have been torn from a pair of trou- sers. The Johnsons waited and nearly worried themselves sick, expecting the innocent victim of Jumbo’s unaccountable Grandpap = MUST HAVE OVERLOOKED SOMETHING Lazwyer (espying late clieat in automobile) —How in the world can that man afford to keep a car? ferocity, or looking anxiously for a visit from the vicious night prowler—if the recipient of Jumbo’s attention had un- luckily chanced to be that much-feared individual. The community was seething with in- terest and suspicion, when Dr. Dosem again met Farmington. “*It seems to me,”’ observed the doctor speculatively, ‘‘that you are a bit heavier than when I last saw you.’’ Farmington sighed wearily. ‘*Don’t rub it in, doc,’’ he returned. ‘‘I know it as well as you possibly can. The road exercise may have reduced my weight some—I don’t know for sure; but it gave me such a tremendous appetite that I know, whenever I ran off one pound, I went right home and gained two of hot cakes and sausage and such stuff. It’s no use, I guess, so now I’m go- ing to wax fat in peace and comfort. And another thing: I’m going to let everybody in this place in on the se- cret, too.’” “You might as well,’’ agreed the doctor. ‘‘They will be able to guess it without much trouble, anyway, seeing that fat always shows. But if you really manage to gain seven or eight hundred pounds, you may man- age to stir up as much excitement as you caused in trying to lose fifteen or twenty. But I doubt it. You can’t stir up any more of a fuss—I’m sure of that.’” The Goat Visitor—I understand that you are the responsible person in this office. Drudge—No, I ain't. I'm just the one that’s always to blame for everything. Pessimism is often a case of ex- aggerated sour stumach. AS THE DENTIST LOOKS TO THE IMAGINATIVE PATIENT comicbooks.com