Our old friend, Uncle Joe, may not be quite free from sin and blot as those who criticize him; he never claimed to be a saint. In fact, he frankly says he ain't. But yet his friends all prize him. He has a rather lurid way of saying what he has to say. Of those who chance to bore him; should any lung-faced hypocrite try in his little game to sit, old Uncle Joe will floor him. Two-fisted, rough and hard as nails. Me struggles on, nor halts, nor quails, nor whines, nor asks compassion; though others may behave that way, our Uncle Joe declines to play the game in just that fashion. Cigar in teeth, hat placed askew. The air a deep cerulean hue from language that he scatters, he loves his friends and scorns his foes. And keeps his word and deals hard blows. What else is there that matters? And so I think when Uncle Joe forgives the game played here below, aloft he'll be awaited by all who've fought a manly fight, and kept on scrapping, wrong or right, and only sham have hated. The Philadelphia Record Keep on trying to do the best you can. You will not succeed, but even your failures will keep you in good company. Shakeup Day by Day. For the lover of ragtime: "I have a reasonable good ear in music; let us have."  The tongs and the bones."?Midsummer Night's Dream, iv. 1. 