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Show The Mistaken Diagnosisj, Albert Levering, the black and white artist responsible for so many "comics," used to live in Chicago, but recently transferred hi allegiance alle-giance to New York. He took his hypochondriacal tendencies with him, and they are still in good working work-ing order. His favorite pastime is to read of some deadly disease, preferably a new one, go to lied imagining he has it, lie awake all night, seek his doctor in the morning morn-ing and get assurance that be is in perfect health and then go back cheerfully to work. One morning not long ago he turned up at the doctor's just aa the man of medicine was getting into his carriage. "I'm in a hurry," called the doctor, doc-tor, "and can't stop to fee you, but it's all-right you haver.'t ;.Tot it." "Haven't got what?" demanded the astonished artist. "Whatever it is you think you've got. Not a symptom of it. Good- fjy." And he drove away. "Well, now," said Levering, turning turn-ing to a lamppost as the only witness wit-ness of the scene, "that's the time he's mistaken. I know I have got it -$10 in my pocket to pay his last bill. But if he's sure I haven't I'll try to get in line with his diagnosis." diagno-sis." And he went around to the nearest junkshop and invested the money in a pair of brass candle-BtickB candle-BtickB and a copper kettle. Philadelphia Phila-delphia Post |