Judge — December 14, 1918 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

Cheer Up! 46y Walt Mason “Uncle Walt’s” Exclusive Weekly Message to Judge E’VE grumbled some at war restrictions, and sprung our sul- phurous convictions that most of them were far- fetched, very; superfluous, un- necessary. We missed our pi with crust delicious, denounced the grub they've had to dish us; we hated bread that wasn’t wheaten, and all the wartime stuff we've eaten. Cheer up! The cruel war is over; the gourmands all will be in clover. We'll cat whatever stuff we long for, whatever grub we stand up strong for, without restriction, rule or question— and then all die of indigestion. cussing, the inspiration of all fussing. One victim we keep on abusing until all ener, we're losing; another comes, and we're elated, refreshed, restored, in- vigorated! The influenza knocked us dizzy and kept the druggist mighty busy. We're weakened by the pain and anguish, we mope around and droop and lan- guish. We spent for pills our hard-earned savings; they're not surprising, then, our rav- ings. Cheer up! The “flu” is now departed, and we should not be heavy-hearted; the sun is bright, the prospect pleases; we have All summer we abused the ice “Caren Uct. “Tur Cuvru Wan as Over our choice’ of all ‘diseases. man, and told him he was not a Gourmanos Att Witt Be ix Cover.” Cheer up! The world is gay nice man. He brought us chunks and sunny, and life is al- of frozen water, his prices made our reason totter; of | ways worth your money. profiteering we accused him, and in nine languages Cheer up! For happy days are coming; I feel it, abused him. He failed to fill refrigerators, and spoiled a lot of meat and taters; his ice was sandy, warm and silty; of every crime the man was guilty, and all of us grew tired as blazes of swatting him with redhot phrases. Cheer up! Here comes another feller to put the coal into your cellar. Variety’s the spice of The Piano Test By Cuartes C. Metin T was an epochal day in the \\K little district school. F INDY over against the polished Wee blackboard sat the board of school \ \\&S3? commissioners, who had come on their half-yearly visit of inspection After the children had hon- ored this visit with a song on Happy Schooldays, and had taken their seats and folded their arms, Mr. Phinny, who was a commissioner with a local notori- ety for dabbling in performances on the fiddle, cornet and piano, of ws which reputation he was ex- tremely proud, conceived a happy inspiration. ‘ow, boys and gals,” said he, hopping over to the piano, “I'm goin’ to see which of you has got the acute musical ear. Just you all stand up and face the back of the room while I strike prose ty A. Wainen a note on this pianner, and the 6, No This 1s N pupil that tells me the correct note will receive a reward.’ Cus Wien tHe ay WY} Cunistaas Grets E Amenican Bor Wants. as my lyre I’m thrumming. If trouble comes, rise up and meet it, and say to trouble, “Skidoo! Beat it!” But if you're bound to hunt for sorrow, and every brand of heartbreak borrow, you'll find more kinds than you can handle, and life will be a sin and scandal. Accordingly, the child obeyed. But simultaneously with the sounding of the test note, the boy just behind Johnnie Samson reached forward and pinched Johnny on the seat of his breeches. “Gee!” yelled Johnnie, writh- ing with the sting, as the piano note resounded through the room. “Who said that?” inquired Mr. Phinny, sharply turning on the piano stool. “T did,” admitted the victim, rubbing the sore spot. “Then you come right here and git this silver dollar. ‘G’ was the very note I struck.” A Piscatorial Moose “Was I drinking too much at the club last night?” = Not at all.”” "ms “But didn’t I get a trifle to the ee bad? Mise. 1¢ GG ONTE A mixed, we might say. a fish you You were telling about landed which had large antlers.”” comicbooks.com