Judge — December 9, 1922 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

The Centenarian b by Walt Mason HUNDRED years J. William Worth has lived A upon this far-famed earth, and still he’s strong and hale; a hundred years he’s toiled and chased, { ind still he shows no eager haste to hit the Jordan trail I saw him pass the other day, and to myself I said, i “That jay must have a program wise; the rules of i health in each detail he must observe, or he'd be frail, 4 1, like other guys. When one has lived a hun- | urs, and still is frisky as two steers, with tassels on their horns, it stands to reason he observes the liet doctor’s drastic curves, and all excesses scorns. stands to reason that he walks along the path laid out by docs who show him where to trudge; and I all interview this bird, and take his statement word for word, and send it on to JupGe. For JupGe would have its readers all be strangers to the bier and pall, and live long years and smile; and if this ancient man will tell just how he keeps so blithe and well, the yarn will be worth while.” ND so I sought him on his lawn, and said, “I see you hanging on, when other ge the sexton and his spade, of coroners you're not afraid—pray tell the how and why. What rules: of health, may I inquire, do you observe, what diet dire, what form of exercise? For still this planet you infest while younger graybeards go to rest, and all of ‘ mankind dies. “Ods bodikins.” the old man cried, “all rules of health I have defied, since I was in my teens; when doctors said that beans were bad as fodder for a grow- ing lad, I filled myself with beans. I learned to smoke when T was ten, and I have smoked each day sine then, and still enjoy my pipe; the strongest weed that I can find; I always have preferred the kind that smells like burning tripe. “I've always had an appetite that reached for Design for cigarette holder. everything in sight, and would not be restrained; Drawn by Geoxce WELP. and people said that with my teeth I'd dig my grave — _—— - and sleep beneath a marble slab, blue-grained. But where are they who told me this? They're yonder, in the realms of bliss, with: crowns upon their brows; and still, wherever there are cakes, and pies and mutton chops and steaks, I snoop around and browse. - AN? long ago the wise men said that I should always be in bed by ten o'clock, at least, and leave my couch, my slumbers done, when first the celebrated sun was showing in the cast. But I have always chased around wherever merry men are found throughout the garish night; I'd go to bed at half past three, and it has ever seemed to me the wrong thing's | always right. And where now are those wise old boys who'd | put the lid on midnight joys, who viewed with much alarm? | They're gone to join the patient Job, and I still caper on this globe as though I wore a charm. “To reach the age of Santa Claus you'll laugh to scorn the ise old saws, all sound advice disdain; you'll be as silly as you and sidestep every whole- some plan, for wisdom’s always vain.” see | \i Stockings | by Ralpk M. Thomson HILE Santa CI As altogether And he may be, as An artist in his line, us is rated With no intent at knocking, He cannot, from his shelf, “Customer out there, Clem.” Fill up a woman’s stocking, Storekeeper—Sh-h-h, she’ll go ’way in a minute. Like she can do herself. comicbooks.com