How often do we, with much amusement, read upon the dead walls of our city and also upon the pages of the popular magazines, the blazon advertisements of the numerous breakfast foods, setting forth in glowing terms their marvellous virtues. They promise most wonderful results for the partakers thereof: youth to the aged, strength and vigor to the decrepit, ambitious animation to the indolent, in short, only limiting their restoring possibilities in not bringing the dead to life. The attention of a thrifty housewife is attracted by the posters of a preparation called “Energizer,” which no doubt is a compound of pineknot sawdust and cross-cut excelsior, but is claimed to possess most egregious powers of stimulation. Now, her lord and master is an apparent victim of hypnology, or, in other words, as lazy as Ludlam’s dog, so she purchases a package of this life-giving commodity and serves it to her hubby for breakfast. What a transformation! Relieved of his habitual pandiculation, he becomes a veritable storm of energy, moving about with the celerity of “greased lightning” on the down grade. At the kitchen door calls one of those pestilential parasites, a good-for-nothing hobo, in quest of the usual after breakfast handout. The maid gives him the remainder of the “Energizer,” and after eating generously of this palatable pabulum, becomes a giant in strength and performs such feats that would cause Hercules to turn green with jealousy could he have witnessed them. His adventures are a series of the funniest incidents ever chronicled in motion pictures, and the film as a whole in the race of laugh producers is the one best bet.