“YOU should be a baseball player,” said the beetle to the spider.
“Why so?” inquired the latter.
“You’re so good at catching flies.”
“True, but I’d fall a victim to the fowls.”
And he went behind the bat.—Exchange.
HARVARD Lampoon informs its readers that “one of the girls, who pays part of her tuition by chasing the hens out of the Annex Garden, is thinking of entering the sprint races of Mott Haven next year, because she is such an adept in the ‘running shoes.’”
A BALLAD.
THE shades of night were falling fast,
As from the tennis grounds there passed
A youth who bore his head with pride,