Smart Chap 3 "You know, old man," said Brown "that fellow's too smart for me. Do you know what he did?
"No," said Green, "what?"
"Well, he sold me a plot of land that was two feet under water. I went round-and demanded my money back."
"Did you get it?"
"Get, nothing! He sold me a motor-boat!" el No Business Ir was one of those days when there was nothing doing in the branch bank in a small Irish town. The staff had got through the day somehow, with tea and talk, until it was lime to close.
"Three o'clock!" said the manager briskly at last; "Run and close the -front door, Murphy."
The clerk returned in a moment or two and said:
"Excuse me, sir, it's closed. We forgot to open it this morning."
Terribly Thirsty A visrron went into an inn at the seaside for lan appetizer before lunch. An old sailor sidled lup to him, "Adventurous life I've had," he remarked.
"Really?" said the visitor.
"Yes," continued the sailor, "all sorts of things have happened to me, Not long ago I had an operation. After I came to, the doctor told me that he'd left a sponge inside me, but I told him to let it stay there as I didn't want another operation, and there it is to this day.'
"It must be very painful," said the visitor.
"Oh, it don't hurt at all," said the sailor. "But I get terribly thirsty!"
Wider Tue not-so-slim woman had been in the boot department for over an hour, and the patient assistant had taken down half the stock for her inspection.
"These would just suit you," he said, as a last resource, taking down yet another pair of shoes.
But still she was not satisfied.
"I don't care for those," she said. "They have a tendency to get wider with time."
"Well, madame," replied the now exasperated assistant, "didn't you?"
British Breakfast Scene We have always been full of admiration for people who write to newspapers. We admire their industry and their confidence in their own opinions, But what we admire most is their eagerness to write something for nothing, says a British columnist.
This eagerness, we imagine, is the outcome of a passionate desire for self-expression present in the entire human race with the possible exception of ourself. The only reward of the letter writer is to see his work in print. As we have nothing better to do at the moment we would like to present to you a Little scene at a British breakfast table:—
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.