Judge — April 26, 1924 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

Latest thing for the ladies—motor chaise lounge. THE HERMIT EXPLAINS EN ASK me why I live alone, in M yonder shady glen, why I infest my hut of stone, and shun my fellow-men. They think my mind is slipping cogs since in my hut I stay, and keep a pack of savage dogs to chase my friends away. Once I communed with other guys and talked of many things, discussed with foolish men and wise, wart hogs and wedding rings. And I observed that each one had some spe- cial theme in store, some private hobby or some fad that made of him a bore. Now I will talk with an gent who switches themes at times, who'll talk a while about the rent, and then of Byron’s rhymes. I'll gladly argue with the skate who has some words to say about the leading heavyweight, about the price of hay; impaling on his verbal spear all top- ies, gay and grave, discussing prunes and Volstead beer, the self-inflicted shave. But there are few who can converse on topics more than one, and so I found that course a curse I was obliged to run. talked about the tax de James Bilkins from morn till y eve; he followed daily in my tracks, to mourn and wail and gri He talked about the income tax, the tax upon his cow, the tax upon his team of yaks, and wore a furrowed brow. Though deeply I agreed with him, he made the by Walt Mason subject stale: I wished to talk of Sunny Jim and of the county jail. Chug Baxter talked about the ring, and of the scrappers there, of Dempsey, the anointed king, a pug beyond compare. He knew the history of all from Sayres and Heenan down, and in a moment he could call the facts of each renown. And he would talk till darkness fell of fighters \\ —Passing Show. safe and sane, relate the feats of old John L., of Ryan and Kilrain. I do not class with high-brow chaps who view the ring with groans; I like to talk at times of scraps and blood and broken bones. For min- utes ten I'll gladly hear of slugging Petes and Mikes, but after that I fain would steer for themes the statesman likes, 24 TRIED to steer that mind of Chug’s to taxes and such things, but he would only talk of pugs and diamond belts and rings. I yearned for Bilkins when with Chug, and when James Bilkins came, his talk, a soporifie drug, enhanced the fighting game. Professor Jimpson lived next door, and leaned upon my fence, and talked for seven hours or more of things that had no sense. He talked of germs with frightful names, of microbes fierce and grim, that circulate within our frames, and rend us limb from limb. He quoted books I never read, and scientists unknown, and when I wept declared my head was largely made of bone. I tried to switch him to the tax that Bilkins liked so well; his science he would not he bound me with his spell. Him I implored, in mov- ing terms, to talk, like Chug, of fights, but he held on to godless germs, and talked three days and nights. And so I dreaded to behold my neigh- bors seek my door; each had a tale that had been told a mil- lion times or more. One talked forever of the tax, another of the ring, and one of germs with spiny backs that do not dance or sing. And wearied of my fellow-men, who talk in one dull tone, T built that cabin in the glen, where I abide alone. comicbooks.com