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sized good and plenty, Doc!"
"Do you have insomnia, nightmare, loss of appetite, chills and fever
and concealed respiration in the carolina perfecto?"
"That's the idea, Doc."
"When you lie on your right side do you have an impulse to turn over
on your left side, and when you turn over on your left side do you feel
an impulse to jump out of bed and throw stones at a policeman?"
"There isn't anything you can mention, Doc, that I haven't got!"
"Ah!" said the doctor; "then that settles it."
"Tell me the truth, Doctor!" I groaned; "what is it, bubonic plague?"
"You have something worse--you have the grip," he whispered gently.
"You see I tried hard to mention some symptom which you didn't have,
but you had them all, and the grip is the only disease in the world
which makes a specialty of having every symptom known to medical
jurisprudence."
Then the doctor got busy with the pencil gag and left me enough
prescriptions to keep the druggist in pocket money throughout the
summer.
[Illustration: Enough prescriptions to keep the druggist in pocket
money throughout the summer.]
Later my wife came in and asked me how I felt, and when I began to
discourse amiably about undertakers she put up a howl that brought the
rest of the family around the bedside on a hurry call.
When I told them I had the grip each and every member of the
household from Uncle Peter down to the cook began to suggest
remedies, and if I had taken half they suggested they could have sold
me to a junk dealer and got good money.

That evening our next door neighbor, Bud Taylor, came in and advised
me to take quinine and whiskey every time I felt a shooting pain.
I took his advice, but at the end of the first hour the score was 98 to 37
in favor of the shooting pains, and the whiskey had such an effect on
the quinine that it made the germs jealous, so between them they
cooked up a little black man who advised me to chase Bud out of the
house, which I did by throwing medicine bottles at him.
That night the whiskey and quinine held a director's meeting with the
germs and then they wound up with a sort of Mardi Gras parade
through my system.
I was the goat!
When daylight broke I was a total wreck, and I swore that the next
person that said whiskey and quinine to me would get all his.
After breakfast another friend of ours, Jack Gibson, blew in, and after
he looked me over his weary eye fell on the decanter.
Then Jack smacked his lips and whispered that the best cure for the grip
was a glass of whiskey and quinine every time I felt chills and fever,
and he'd be glad to join me.
When loving hands picked Jack up at the bottom of the stairs he was
almost insulted, but he quieted down when my wife explained to him
that I was suffering not only from the grip but that I had also a slight
attack of jiu jitsu.
After weeks of study devoted to the subject I have come to the
conclusion that the only way to cure the grip is to stay sick until you
get better.
That's what I did!

JOHN HENRY ON COURTING

Are you wise to the fact that everything is changing in this old world of
ours, and that since the advent of fuss-wagons even the old-fashioned
idea of courtship has been chased to the woods?
It used to be that on a Saturday evening the young gent would draw
down his six dollars worth of salary and chase himself to the barber
shop, where the Dago lawn trimmer would put a crimp in his
moustache and plaster his forehead with three cents worth of hair and a
dollar's worth of axle-grease.
Then the young gent would go out and spread 40 cents around among
the tradesmen for a mess of water-lilies and a bag of peanut brittle.
The lilies of the valley were to put on the dining-room table so mother
would be pleased, and with the peanut brittle he intended to fill in the
weary moments when he and his little geisha girl were not making
googoo eyes at each other.
But nowadays it is different, and Dan Cupid spends most of his time on
the hot foot between the coroner's office and the divorce court.
I've got a hunch that young people these days are more emotional and
like to see their pictures in the newspapers.
Nowadays when a clever young man goes to visit his sweetheart he
hikes over the streets in a benzine buggy, and when he pulls