Judge — August 29, 1914 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

The Jesters By WALT MASON N ANCIENT times the gifted joker was chartered by the king, who muttered, “By the holy poker, this gent of quip and fling must stay around my throne and cheer me, when I am sad and sore, when there are yellow fantods near me, and life it- self’s a bore.'’ And so a humorist stood chaffing around each royal throne, and kept his nobs, the monarch, laughing, until he broke a bone. Then funny men were scarce as thunder, and so became a power; for in those days—it is no wonder—most men were grim and dour. Their talk was all of siege and battle, of scaffold and of block; and blest the fellow who could rattle a sprightly line of talk! And life to-day is pretty dreary, for men are commerce mad; they chase along, all frayed and weary, to gain the shining scad. So nervousness with them is chronic, resulting from the stress; and when they feel they need a tonic, they seek it in the press. They have no time to read a volume on ‘‘How To Save Your Goat,’’ but in the Bugle’s funny colyum they find an antidote for many of the woes that scar them and make them gray and os for many of the cares that jar them and turn their trilbys cold. When fierce reverse or threat’ning rumor brings to the heart a pain, how blessed is this balm of humor, that keeps us calm and sane! The joker of the press is only a fall guy, like ourselves; and oftentimes his heart is lonely, and bare his cupboard shelves. You'd think, to read his merry twitter, his life was one glad song, that nothing in that life was bitter, that nothing e’er went wrong. But fifty-seven kinds of troubles he knows and deeply feels; he does not sit ’round blowing bubbles or kicking up his heels. Too often, after writing jingles, he has to pawn the spoons, while in his creaking stomach mingles his fare of slaw and prunes. The joker is a man of sorrow, of great and divers woes; he never knows but that to-morrow the sheriff will foreclose. And often, filled with milk and sago, he turns his bright quips out, while in his back he has lumbago and in his feet the gout. But, still, oh, brave and patient mortal! he hits the lettered keys and turns out things that make us chortle and yell and gasp and sneeze. He hands to us the golden chalice of gladness and content, e’en while he leaves his four-room palace because he can’t pay rent. Walt Mason, a. ». 4. Uncle Bill Says: By M. H. JAMES S®TH TUCKER says th’ movin’ pitcher shows make him tired. He's th’ fillum operator at th’ Happy Hour The-ater. A fool has only a passin’ acquaintance with his money. For him that dies th’ preacher pays all debts. Use breeds a habit in a feller, sure enough—there’s Mr. Rosenfelt, f'r instance. It takes all kinds 0’ folks t’ make up this here world, includin’ th’ Chris- tian f’r revenue only. Nothin’ makes a man madder than th’ mumps at twenty-five years. Women in transparent dresses M. H. James, a, p.m. shouldn’t stand in dark doorways. Some judges act like there’s a reason f’r havin’ th’ statue o’ Justice on th’ outside o' th’ courthouse. Keepin’ a jump ahead o’ th’ styles’ll allus git a woman th’ once over. Th’ woman with a neat-lookin’ pair o’ feet, th’ men'll tell you, is a swell togger. Proposals Wanted By HOMER CROY T IS rumored that the newest thing on the boardwalk at At- lantic City in the autumn will be the fur anklet. This seems to be doubted by many people. All persons wishing to find out more about the anklet can interest me. I am open to a proposition to make investiga- tions for a limited number of people. Any time anybody wants to have any looking of this kind done for him, he may address me in care of this maga- zine. I shall be only too pleased to submit sealed bids, Punishments " T? HAVE all them who love to fight in wars Compelled to pass a cycle full on Mars. For those who flirt, I'd have two minor spheres "Neath winking Venus for a thousand years. For wights that joy ride with a reckless fling, I'd have an eon’s hike on Saturn's Ring. The folks who growl and quarrel all the day, On Ursa Major I'd compel to stay. The liar bold upon the moon I'd place, Upon the side where light ne’er shows its face. The chaps who ride some hobby full of rage, I'd mount upon a comet for an age. And for the dipsomaniac, a tide Of time upon the Dipper I'd provide. And when they'd served their term for all its worth, I'd give them one more chance upon the earth, To win whatever heaven that was fit, By deeds that fully proved their claim to it. —Carlyle Smith, CAUSE FOR WORRY “* Lizzie, does yer love me fer meself alone, or fer me swell clothes?” comicbooks.com