Judge — July 15, 1922 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

Physician, Heal Thyself | having mumps or flu: opmes the dreary hic! Is e in rheumati : all through pains whiz, and w ys neck. I always have it in my leg, and so don’t re or run; T buy my ointment by the keg, and capsules And when I limp along the et, up comes the helpful cuss, and he exclaims, “So help me Pete, you need not suffer thus! I know a safe and easy cure that was my father’s pride; the rheumatism won't endure five minutes when it's tried, Just soak your legs in pepper sauce- tabasco is the best; your aches will be a total loss, and all your pain a jest.” ANP he who gives me counsel wise has hoof-and-mouth disease, and he has sore and rheumy eyes, and chilblains in nis knees, And I could tell him how to heal the ills that are his curse; but why By Watt Mason ItLustraTIon BY Henry J. Peck put up that sort of spiel, and make him feel much worse? Because a neighbor wearies me, and spoils a pleasant day, shall I, in vengeful spirit, be as weari- some a Some . When punishing my lyre, George Jimcrack comes along, and tells me that I should aspire to higher flights of si “You write,” he says, “of cheap john things, of grocers and their wads; a Milton or a Shelley sings about the old Greek gods. ‘True poets have their gor- geous dreams, and sing in golden tones; but you select such tawdry themes as butchers and their bones. I’m kept so busy peddling pups I have no time to write, but I could sing of buttercups to everyone's delight.” HIS Jimcrack’s written all his days, his odes and epics grand; and he has bales and bales of lays for which there’s no demand. And I might tell him when he sits and jaws and lectures me that no one cares for high-flown fits in cantos twenty-three. We're living in an age of jazz, near-beer and motor cars, and phono- graphs, and no one has a chance to walk the stars. If Milton, bard of sterling worth, were twanging harps to-day, the “Get down to earth! Give us a rhy' ) pessimist is still abroad, denounc- and that; there’s nothing that he will applaud, to all things he says, “Seat! He has a dozen catalogs of evils he has found; the country’s going to the dogs, and vice is all around. The books we're reading are no good, the plays we see are bad, our alcohol’s dis- tilled from wood, and all the world is sad. And what’s the matter with this land in which we groan and sob? It’s this: The pessimistic band is always on the job. F ALL the pessimistic bores would cease their doleful whine, and try to do some useful chores, the outlook would be Whene'er I read a Public Print— I'm taking three or four—I find some grim and grisly hint that doom is at our door. And all the orators I hear, in forum or in hall, are bringing messages of fear, discouraging us all. So let us heal ourselves, I say, of our own boil and wen, before we rear aloft and bray, and bore our fellow-men. “A safe and easy cure that was my father’s pride; the rheumatism won’t endure five minutes when it’s tried” 12 comicbooks.com