My morning paper, there to see you've got
A little girl!
The Poet and his Love—(A Lapsus Linguæ.)—He. "I see that you wear brown boots, sweetheart—a sign of the falling of the year." She. "Yes, it is in concord with the decadence of the leaf." He. "Say rather of the cutting of the corn." (And then the match was broken off through no fault of his.)
A SAFE MORTGAGE
Angelina. "Edwin, promise me you'll never describe me as your 'relict.'"
Edwin. "Dearest, I never will! I'd die sooner!"