A mAaRDUP sportsman bought a hunter and put off payments for a time. Later he met the man who had sold him the horse.
"I am not satisfied with that animal," he said.
"Why, what's the trouble?" asked the dealer.
"Well, it won't hold its-Héàd up," said the sportsman, "Oh, that's all right, si it's his pride. Just you wait till he's paid for! os Last Look at the News Just when we thought that old-fashioned villains had disappeared both from the stage and real life a "Jasper Murgatroyd" of the old school has turned up in France, writes a British columnist. He was accused of poisoning his second wife in order to marry a seventeen-year-old household help. According to the evidence in court, he approached the help while she was cooking the dinner and hissed in her ear, "How would you like me to poison my wife so that I can marry you?"
There is no record of the help's reply, though we would like to think of her answering in the manner of the American crazy films ("Why, that would be swell" "Go to it, honey." "It's OK. by me, butch").
What has impressed us is that there are still honest-to-goodness bad men in the world who don't beat about no bushes, put up a poisoning proposition to a girl without pretending their wives "must have eaten something." ie Green Rats We don't quite know what to say about the Rector of Herstmonceux, Sussex, whose ambition is to breed green rats.
We have always watched the activities of the clergy with interest and sympathy, but we are rather alarmed to read his statement to a reporter "Women are not keen on rats generally, so I invite them to come and see my apricot voles." They come and like them.
"One of them, nursing a pink rat and thinking it was some other animal, confessed she was horrified of rats."
Perhaps we're a little conventional but women nursing pink rats and thinking they're something else reminds us more of Bohemian circles than the quiet tea-and-cress-sandwiches atmosphere of an English rectory.
If we were not so busy packing we would write to the bishop about it.
—Gubbins in the "Sunday Express."
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.