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HEARST S SUNDAY AMERICAN, ATLANTA, GA„ SUNDAY, MAY 11, 19TC.
Physicians Not Glum:
Here Are a Doctor’s Jokes
JEFF HAS HARD LUCK WITH HIS PETS
By “BUD”
FISHER
Copyright, 1913, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved.
Mytt and Jeff Appear Every Day in The Georgian
D
OCTORS are not the lugubrious sawbones flint tradition would
have them. In fact, they should have a greater store of humor
than the layman, because most of their world Is pathos, ami suf
fering, anil anxiety, with
few bright spots that must
he seized and treasured eag
erly.
This, from the statement
of Dr. Louis Koughlln, At
lanta physician, who, like
every other physician, has
seen the dark spots and the
bright spots. Here are a
few of the latter, ns lie re
lates the stories:
• • •
Everybody and his broth
er knows that there are
dangers In the delightful
pastime of kissing, not the
least of which Is the menace
of germs. So much for the
introduction to this story.
A young man came to me
once for examination for tu
berculosis. I asked him the
symptoms.
“I ain’t got no symptoms,
doc,” he said.
I asked him what disease his father and mother (lied of.
e, rut Gar
Swem eer <vow.
A lAt>V lAt Tspj
Soit> Fishi rn
t iTRit*y „ 0MC
IMS SO MUN&g'l VN\ stttf
t SSItN'T tATCN Fan. a
wee* ani> r ain't Mrecenr,
rsy so use af x'n have. To
Co noMt and <-ie down
nose st I'm
SO HUN WIT T
COUlD «>Tt
WUS6LF
“They didn’t have no disease,” he said, ^'they Just died.”
"Well, why do you think you have tuberculosis? I asked him.
He
blushed.
"Well, you see. doc,” he said, 'it’s
this way. I’m courtin’ a girl, and
we kisses and all that, you know.
I heard that she’s got tuberculosis,
and I want to know if T caught II
from her.”
Germs may be transmitted In this
way, lyid I told him so. After ex
amlnlng him, I sent him on his way.
Two days later another young man
came in.
"Doctor 1 ,” he said, “I want you to
examine me for consumption.”
"What are your symptoms?’’ I
asked him.
"I ain't got no symptoms, doc,”
he said.
1 asked him if his parents were
living. One was dead.
“Of what disease?" I asked.
“Pa didn’t have no disease, doe,"
he said. “He jnst died.”
I wondered why he thought he
had tuberculosis, and asked him.
He said he roomed with the man
whom I examined two days before,
and was his best friend.
"But he didn’t have tubercu
losis,’’ 1 told him.
"I know,” he said, “but he might
have had.”
T tried to Inugh down his fears.
"How does that affect you?” T
asked. He Mushed.
"Well, you see, doc,” he explain
ed, "it's this way, hut for the love
of Mike keep it quiet, I've been kiss
lug his girl, too."
• * *
The opinion of the laity regarding
germs and their size is wonderful.
Also, regarding everything else
about germs their nature, origin
and all (hat. Tt reminds me of an
old joke that nil doctors have heard,
maybe.
A German, a Frenchman and an
Irishman were debating about the
nationality of germs. Mach proudly
claimed brotherhood with the
“btygs.”
“Sure, dey iss German,” said
Helnle. "Dot's vere dey gets dere
names -germs, from Germany,
don'd you see?’’
"Sacre bleu, non!” exclaimed the
Frenchman. "They are Frenchmen.
Have you never heard them called
parasites? They came from Paris,
truly.”
"Ye’re both dead wrong,” chimed
tn Pat. "Ol till ye they’re Irish,
becase their real names Is mic
robes.”
• * * *
But enough for germs. They are
unpleasant subjects at the best.
Maybe you’d rather hear of a little
incident that occurred soon after
prohibition came to Georgia, and
when things were very, very tight.
I was called one day to rush to
ihpluce where an office building was
being erected. A man had fallen
several stories, and was seriously
hurt.
I found him stretched on the
ground, not so badly hurt as the
alarm had declared. I called for
a glass of water, after f had hastily
examined him, and held it for him
to drink.
"What’s that doctor,” tie asked,
feebly.
“It’s just water,” 1 assured him.
He sat up immediately.
"Good nlglitl” he said. “How far
does a man have to fall In this
domed town to gel a real drink?”
• * *
I once lost the friendship of a
vaudeville leading lady who had
been my friend for years. T lost
it because I did not remember that
vaudevillians consider their station
in their profession established by
tbe place
which is given
them on the
bill. The first
place is con
sidered the
“goat” assign
ment, second
place is little
better, and so
on.
This particu
lar star usually
had been giv
en the head
liner's posi
tion, well to
ward the end
of the bill. But
coming to At
lanta after
many previous
tours, she was
satirised t o
find that her
act was num
ber two on
the bill.
She and her husband came to me
in a rage. I know them, having
lieen connected with the theater as
its physician.
“Can you imagine those low
brows putting an actress of her po
sition and talent in second place?”
asked her husband, stormlly. “Can
you}”
“Yes, can, you?” the lady herself
raged. “The
idea of me,
always a
h e a d 1 1 ner,
stuck In that
goat’s’ act.
What do you
think about
it?”
“ W e 11,' I
should say,”
I declared
s y m pathet
ically, “They
are wrong.
You really
ought to have
been In the
first act.”
And the
haughty air
with which
she left my
office c o n -
vinced m e
that s o m e-
thing was
wrong.
______________* * •
'It was just my ignorance; and
my ignorance was worse than that
of a couple who called me In to wait
on their eleven-months-old child.
"Little Billy is mighty sick, doc
tor,” the mother told me.
all wrong inside.”
I examined the child. He was
wrong inside. Plainly he was af
fected by something that he had
eaten. I asked them what they had
fed him.
"Nothing, fioctor,” she assured
me. “Nothing much.”
“You know,” I said, “that a child
of this age should have the lightest
of diets, based on milk? Have you
fed him anything else’?”
“Nothing much, doctor,” she said.
"Of course, snookums likes a pickle
jiow and then, and usually we let
him eat sauer kraut. We always
have It. But nothing to hurt him.”
« * * *
Another patient of mine was an
old family negro. He came into my
office one day, groaning and grunt
ing and very sick.
“What’s the matter. Uncle Kph-
ralm?” I asked him. “You seem
sick.”
"Yassir, r is sick. Mist’ Louis,”
he said. “I sorter think dis ol’
nigger’s gwiner die. Oh, Lordy.”
"What’s the matter, Uncle Eph
raim?” I asked.
“Oh, Mist’ Louis, dis ol’ nigger’s
mighty sick,” lie groaned.
"Where?” I asked.
"I’s got a awful misery in my
ohist,” he said, patting his bosom
gently. “I sorter think I’s got de
He’s tube-roses. Can’t you tell me?”
He was like the old man who call-
ed In a number of doctors. This old
mau sent for a physician to come In
a hurry. The physician went to his
side.
“Oh, doctor,” said the patient,
“I wish you had come just five min
utes sooner. Dr. Blank was here,
and J wanted you all to talk about
my case.”
“Is that so}” said the doctor.
“I’m sorry. Well, now, what did
Doctor Blank do for you?”
“I don’t know, doctor,” said the
patient, "he does so much.”
"Did he take your temperature?”
“Lord knows, doc, I don’t,” said
the old man. "I been here on my
back a long time. I misses my
watch the other day, but if he’s
gone and took anything else, I don’t
know tt.”
• • •
That reminds me of the patient
who name to a local doctor for his
troubles. The physician diagnosed
the ease as a mild nervous affection,
wrote out a preslription calling for
a compound that is an efficacious
nerve tonic.
The patient looked at the formid
able array of symbols and Latin
words.
"Gee. doc,” he asked. “How much
will this cost?”
“About a dollar, I guess.”
“Well, say, doc,” said the nerv
ous one, “can’t you lend me • dol
lar to have it filled with?”
The doctor looked at his patient
critically for & moment, then took
back the prescription. At the bot
tom of the long list of drugs
the word “Aqua,” which, as
body knows, is water.
The physician took his peneO and
scratched ont an the words except
the last, "Aqua.” Then he turned
to his patient, handing him a dime.
“Take this prescription now, and
this dime, and have it flUed,- he
said. “I was wrogg with my first
diagnosis. Yon don’t need a
tonic. You have enough :
New Styles in Wit
Encouragement.
Competitor—I see yon hroo mm
that joke of mine at last.
Editor—Yes, we were shy on as
changes at the last moment and had
to rely on a joke from Punch. To
make it seem funny we ran your lit
tle offering just above it.
' •
Neither.
“I heard an alarm of fire, I think."
he said in the theater, “and I must
go out and see about it.”
Returning after fifteen minutes:
“It wasn’t a fire,” he said, shortly.
“Nor water," said she, still more
briefly.
MIKE DONLIN
In “The Rounder
and the Swell”
TOM LEWIS The Diary of a Cut Worm—By u. Green Fields
Copyright, 1S12, by t)» SUr Ooopony
L EWIS—Who was the seedy gent you were
talking to as I turned the corner?
DONLIN—Oh, he was one of those “please-
gtve-a-dlme-for-eoffee" chaps. Saw this dress suit
and tried to nick me. I gave him a sweet young
call, though. T told him that he would do better to
ask for manners than money.
LEWIS—Oh, well, you shouldn't have been so
harsh. He was only asking you for what he thought
you had the most of.
DONLIN—I heard something about your having
a fuss on Fifth avenue.
LEWIS—No, on Eighth avenua.
DONLIN—What was It?
LEWIS—Well, you see, Jimmy Thornton and I
had been to the Square Table Club's beefsteak din
ner. and as we were wending our way
DONLIN—Winding
LEWIS—Winding our way home, Thornton began
to sing. “I Loved You When You Were Sweet Six
teen." He was hitting high "o" when a big Cossack
cop loped up and said. See here, cut that out!
Where do you think you are. In the Metropolitan
Opera House?" Thornton got very eassy. and In
sisted that he hsd a perfect right to sing one of his
own corapoeltions. So he started all over again
Then the cop el-owned poor Jim with his big stick
and put him to sleep. I let fly both hands and
floored the copper, and was giving him a fine trim-
nlng when Jim suddenly came to. He rubbed his
eyes and then looked over at the cop that 1 was
pounding. Then he got tip and. walking over,
kicked me in the ribs, yelling "Hey, l^ewis, get a
cop of your OWN; this one's mine—I'm not through
with him!"
DONLIN—How's your wife?
LEWIS—Had a row with her this morning
DONLIN—What about?
LEWIS—She was dressing to come down town
to dinner, and when I got an eyeful of that new
drees I said, "That dress, madam, will never please
the men.” Friend wife got right up on her high
horse and yelled, "Mr. Lewis, I dbn’t dress to please
the men, but to worry other women."
DONLIN—What was your father?
LEWIS—A farmer.
DONLIN—Isn't It a pity he didn't make you fol
low his trade?
LEWIS—What was your father? *
DONLIN—Why, a gentleman, of course.
LEWIS—Pity he didn’t make you one!
DONLIN—They tell me that lour father was a
quaint old duck.
LEWIS—Did you ever hear about the time he
drove down from the mountains to see his first
railroad train?
DONLIN—Go ahead with it.
LEWIS—Why, you sse, we lived on a vineyard
twenty miles from the town. They built a rail
road through the town, and on the day that the
road opened, father hitched up the old gray mare
and drove into town twenty miles to see his first
nqjrogd trglft .WJ»?n h® y?S “2 W
Grfifct Britain Rights Raserrod.
he found quite a crowd there before him, for the
first glimpse too. Father drove right up near the
track and bitched the old mare right to the switch.
"Better git your old boss away from the track,”
said Zeke Prouty, who had been made station mas
ter; "he ain't never seed no locomotive and he’s
sure to rip and tear."
So father took hts advice and unhitched the mare,
and took her off In a field nearby and tied her to
a tree. Then he came back for the buggy which
stood right by the track.
Pa got between the shafts and picked them up
Just as a distant toot was heard. In another sec
ond the big locomotive, drawing a string of cars,
whizzed by the station with a roar.
DONLIN—Well?
LEWIS—Father ran three miles and smashed (lie
buggy to bits before he stopped!
DONLIN—Say, if a parson and Satan went to law
which do you think would win?
LEWIS—Satan, It's a cinch.
DONLIN—Why so?
LEWIS'—All the lawyers would be on his side,
wouldn’t they?
DONLIN—Speaking of horses, you should have
seen the animals of all kinds that my father raised.
Say, father reared the biggest calf ever turned out
of our State
LEWIS—1 don't doubt it. and the noisiest be
sides.
DONLIN—Did you take year usual stroll through
the park this morning?
LEWIS—Yes, and I hadn’t any more than started
when I was stopped by a beggar who said, "Pray,
sir, pity me, I have a wife and six children.”
DONLIN—What did you say?
LEWIS—Told him to accept my heartfelt sympa
thies, that I had six too.
DONLIN—What pleased you most when you vis
ited England?
LEWIS—To see the funerals.
DONLIN—They tell me that you were panning all
the modem literati at the Comedy Club the other
night.
LEWIS—What of ft?
DONLIN—I suppose that you would have abused
the ancients, too, if you had known their names?
LEWIS—1 saw some wonderful paintings abroad.
By George, but Rembrandt was a wiz! I wonder
what tn all the world he mixed his colors with?
DONLIN—Brains!
LEWIS—An old man—an awful crank—sat near
me at the Waldorf during breakfast.
DONI^IN—At the Waldorf?
LEWIS—Yes, why not? This old fellow ordered
a steak, and after he had waited patiently for his
meal for a full half hour he called the waiter.
"Boy, arc you the lad who took my order?”
"Certainly," said the waiter.
Bless me, how you've grown, said the old fel-
10W A - . . — **•
S ATURDAY, March 22—I’ve been awake a fortnight now, and things
are certainly dull here. No one has spaded up this garden.- ^do
hope the man who owns It won’t get lazy and neglect his garden
this year. t
Copyright. 1912, by tb* Star Company. Graat Britain Bights RMtmd.
SATURDAY, May 10—Oh, my! the man’s perfectly crazy now. We’ve
eaten off all his lettuce, all his second crop of cucumbers and all but one
of his second lot of tomato plants. That one has grown so stout I‘»
afraid it will take us another week to kill it
SATURDAY, March 29—Am feeling better. The man spaded up half
the garden plot to-day. I burrowed Just an Inch lower than his spading
fork reached. He ought to be getting In his early peas and such things.
SATURDAY, April 5—Well, he’s planted his peas, some lettuce and
radishes. The peas were well soaked In water before planting. There’s
enough here to feed me until they begin to sprout. I don’t like radish
seeds, they are too hard. I’m glad he fixed up the fence- I was afraid his
neighbor's hens would get in. Hens are so careless;' they’ll gobble up a
respectable cut-worm just as quick as a seed.
SATURDAY. April 12—Now the cold frames are out and there are a
lot of cucumber aud tomato seedlings under it. 1 certainly was glad to
get a taste of something fresh and green. I fairly stuffed myself, ate off
seven tomato stalk* and eleven cucumber seedlings. The man has
planted a lot more. v ( .
SATURDAY, April 19—If ever a out worm was a lucky chap. I’m it
The man has enlarged his garden and planted more. He has set out a lot
more vegetables and flower* around the borders, and planted be»ng and
a lot of other stuff.
SATURDAY. April 20—This garden is certainly some paradise. The
peas have sprouted and the radishes are doing fine. I must get some of
my friend* to help me. There's enough here for about 800 of us. Gee,
wasn't the man mad when he found I had killed all his cucumber seed
lings and half hts tomato plants. I missed a lot of the radishes, though.
They grow so fast one simply cannot eat them all, and as soon as the
roots begin to grow they get strong and peppery and are Indigestible.
SATURDAY May 3—This Is some garden, all right I’ve got all my
Mends busy now. I think there must be at least 760 of us. Poor Willie
Cut-Worm passed on yesterday. The man made me laugh, though. When
he got Willie and killed him. he exclaimed: "This is the feller that’s been
killing my stuff ” Just as though one poor cut-worm could find time or
room to eat everything In a big garden.*
SATURDAY. May 17—Believe me, that poor boob la
wild now. Every one of his beans has fallen. Wa
cut each one off close to the ground Just when thd third
leaf was starting. They are tendereet and sweetest
then.
SATURDAY, May 24—I’m a little bit diseonrsfedi.
He’s got some rhubarb coming up and It in growing
so fast we cannot kill It, and It Is a little too eonr. t
think I’d better send for some big white slugs, the]}
love rhubarb and they’ll goon fix It,
SATURDAY, May 31-—I got a green tomato worm tF
finish that last tomato plant. It got too big for ns. The
radishes are qut of the question, but I know some borers
that will come and drill into the radishes and sped)
them. The man Is certainly gams. He had planted his,
second lot of beans and his third lot of lettuce and his
third lot of cucumbers. Some of his early peas get past
us, but I know of a lot of aphids that will just eat 'em
up. . j
SATURDAY, June 7—Man has planted squash. I don't
like squash, but my fourth cousin, the triangular squash
bug, just dotes on them. I wish his beans would hugry
up and sprout. We haven't had any tender green atufl)
for a week. Of course we can’t eat the weeds; that’s
a bargain we have with the weeds.
SATURDAY, June 14—Those beans were fine. The
second crop is always best. "Out of four rows we ate
all In three rows and half of those in the fourth. Thq
things the man said this morning were shocking.
SATURDAY, June 28—Oh, well, everything must have an end. AH
us cut-worms ars going to move over into the next yard where there's a
dandy garden. The man here Is such a mean quitter he has rakad
ovsr and planted grass seed.
OEL HIBBS sees no reason for
N
raising such a hullabaloo over
this new fangled notion of sleeping
out of doors. He says he sleeps on
the front stoop himself about three
nights a week when he's not able
to locate the keyhole or arouse any
of the members of his family. He
rather likes It It helps remove
that mauve taste from the mouth,
and your tongue feels less like the
beard of a prophet in the morning.
w
Many of the g'rls in towp are
Rooking forward to the season at
The Rural Editor’s Scrap Book
Osorisht, 1B18. hr tae Star Ooraswu. Qrest Britain M*hts RMerwd.
the seashore with a great deal of
pleasure. One young lady from
this town got her bathing suit
wet last Summer. Those Summer
thunder showers come up so
quickly that you are unable to
reach shelter sometimes.
in order to tprodnee self-raising
umbrellas. At least so Dame
Rumor says, and the Dame bats
about .400 In the Truth League.
Deacon Norwood has success
fully tried out a scheme of graft
ing hop vines on umbrella plants
Here’s hoping our local base
ball team does better this season
than last. They were so far be
hind last year you couldn’t tell
whether they were last in 1912
or am in 1914. A, A. A ~
From the frequency with which
the oil wagon stops at a certain
house on the ridge and with
which the daughter of the house
cleans the parlor lamp we should
say that Cupid was about to get
out his range finder and land
two more hearts. What say you,
Les?
port Abner Sneed as vin
treasurer. In the first place,
training as manager of the t
factory on the ridge has tau
him how to make a scent g<
great, wavs.
We are going to take up our
gabeatQg pencil to wajrmly §u$-
Old Noel Stone was calling on
the Widow Beemer one night last
week, and the fire of love got to
burning so strongly within him
that the heat cracked his glass
eye right in two. Never mind.
Noel, the course of true lore
never did, rus emqoid, sJ&K