So as I quaff my spectral wine,
At ease beside the Styx,
Would I contribute to the Line?
Nequaquam! Nunquam! Nix!
Our compliments to Old Man Flaccus, whose witty message reminds us to entreat contribs to be patient, as we are snowed under with offerings. For a week or more we have been trying to horn into the column with some verses of our own composing.
BRIGHT SAYINGS OF MOTHER.
My respected father came to breakfast on New Year’s Day remarking that he had treated himself to a present by donning a new pair of suspenders, whereupon mother remarked: “Well braced for the New Year, as it were!” C. T. S.
After some years of editing stories of events in high society, a gentleman at an adjacent desk believes he has learned the chief duty of a butler. It is to call the police.
[p 217]
]“THAT STRAIN AGAIN—IT HAD A DYING SNORT.”
Sir: Speaking of soft music and the pearly gates, S. T. Snortum is owner and demonstrator of the music store at St. Peter, Minnesota. S. W. E.