Judge — September 23, 1922 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

Mistakes of Merchants by Walt Mason GO to Johnson's Trade Bazar to buy a quarter's worth of and, having bought my half a pound, I'd like to nd look ‘around, to see what junk vas for sale, that might invite a patron’s kale. But Johnson will not let me be; a most insistent gent is he; he just at my he and puts up He boosts his t impassioned spi his nutmegs and his clove and his heating stoves becomes a bore, and so he drives me from his § If he just let me his tiresome voice resound, I'd doubtless a corkse velocipede, d ssome book by F Bok, a shotgun or an eight-day clock, then I'd spend six bucks or four, and shed some sunbeams in that store. But John- man no chance to take a calm unce at helpful junk he has so he misses lots of kale. around, nor make . and GO to Whifling’s busy mart to buy a sparkplug for my cart. And ashe wraps it up he talks; our misfit fake that gives his neck a daily 2 $ talks of science for a while and says that nstein makes him smile; he takes up art and says it’s quaint how many black- smiths think they paint; he knocks religion off its perch, and says we ought to tax the church. As tottering I leave the store I vow I'll go there never mot We do not seek the marts of trade to hear some punk opinions made. We do not seek the crowded mart to Jed Whifling’s views on art. I go to spend my scanty hoard to buy a sparkplug for my Ford, and everything that Whifling springs gives me a pain and smarts and “Having a delightful summer, chaperoning the children on their yachting parties” American Tourist Reading Guidebook—Well, well! What an interesting old castle, thirty-one kilometers from here! stings. The sheriff soon will seize the booth whose owner would expound the truth when people to that booth repair to buy a grindstone or a chair. I TODDLE to the druggist’s shop to buy a flask of lemon pop. _ Against the marble slab I lean, to drink that vintage, tinted gree d Tam feeling blithe and gay; oh, who would spoil my perfect day? ae “s 20 ‘The druggist. views me and remarks, “My compound juice of buds and barks of beeswax and essential oils, will rid you of those coming boils. I see them comi on your neck, and you will shortly be wreck. Oh, head them off while they are young, before your withers have been wrung! Before they grow and cook your goose, begin to take my compound juice, which is composed of leaves and grass, of buds and barks and broken glass, of wholesome roots which have a kick, of toadstools and of powdered brick. “And when you your mouth I saw your “sin frightful ts coated with growth, dark green or blue, or may- be both. This argues that your liver’s bad: you need Doc Jimp- son's cowhide pad. It is a wonder when we come to healing livers out of plumb.” ND thus we it, day by good trade away. And when bored cus- tomers are gone, the merchant says, “So help me, John, there's something wrong with things, I think; the Government is on the blink, for trade is slack d getting worse— it’s almost ready for the hearse!”