To K, but pleases Q.
So, when I come to fill the Col,
I know just what to do.
It is refreshing to find in the society columns an account of a quiet wedding. The conventional screams of a groom are rather trying.
A man will sit around smoking all day and his wife will remark: “My dear, aren’t you smoking too much?” The doctor cuts him down to three cigars a day, and his wife remarks: “My dear, aren’t you smoking too much?” Finally he chops off to a single after-dinner smoke, and when he lights up his wife remarks: “John, you do nothing but smoke all day long.” Women are singularly observant.
[p 2]
]NO DOUBT THERE ARE OTHERS.
Sir: A gadder friend of mine has been on the road so long that he always speaks of the parlor in his house as the lobby. E. C. M.
With the possible exception of Trotzky, Mr. Hearst is the busiest person politically that one is able to wot of. Such boundless zeal! Such measureless energy! Such genius—an infinite capacity for giving pains!
Ancestor worship is not peculiar to any tribe or nation. We observed last evening, on North Clark street, a crowd shaking hands in turn with an organ-grinder’s monkey.
“In fact,” says an editorial on Uncongenial Clubs, “a man may go to a club to get away from congenial spirits.” True. And is there any more uncongenial club than the Human Race? The service is bad, the membership is frightfully promiscuous, and about the only place to which one can escape is the library. It is always quiet there.