"Hush; don't I know low-down blackguard talk when I hears it? He asked me 'what was the State of my nativity?'"
—Washington Post.
"I climb to rest," sings Lucy Larwin in a recent poem. So do we, Lucy. Our sleeping apartment is on the first floor from the roof.
—Light.
Softleigh—What is the matter with your nose?
Sardonicus—That is a berth mark.
Softleigh—I don't remember ever seeing it before.