CHILDREN'S PRESENTS. CHRISTMAS, 1920.
Mother. "Isn't it a perfect gem, darling?"
Son. "Wouldn't be seen dead with it. I ask you, where's the h.p. cylinder that drives the crank-pins on the trailing wheels?"
Our Cynical Municipalities.
"Schemes for the relief of the unemployed at —— include the extension of the cemetery."
Daily Paper.
"The constable went to the warehouse doorway and found two men, who, when asked to account for their movements, suddenly bolted in different directions, pursued by the constable."
—Welsh Paper.
A worthy colleague of the Irish policeman who in a somewhat similar dilemma "surrounded the crowd."