Life — December 25, 1919 — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

What Could She Say to That? “What!” cried the careful housewife. “Yon charge me a shilling a pound for these apples? “Yes, n,” answered the polite grocer, “that is the very lowest price we can sell them for.” “How is it that I can get them from Todd's for eightpence, then?” “T cannot say, madam, Perhaps Mr, Todd has taken a fancy to you. He is a widower and you are beautiful. Un- fortunately I1—Yes'm, two pounds? Cer tainly.”"—Blighty. Cherchez I'Homme Davourter: Oh, father, how grand it is to he alive! The world is too good for anything! Why isn't” everyone happy? Fatiee: Who is he this time? —Carolina Tar Baby. Fashion Note Reds are going out. ning Most. “Wuar makes women laugh?” asks a contemporary. Speaking generally, men. —Punch. GIERHANO BROS 2S CRAM lobody oer changes RAMESES CIGARETTES — the cigarette world produces nothing better Cowve ne’ Always Ready While the Sun Shines One morning Mr. Jenkins, the pro prietor of the village provision stores, received a letter which caused him to indulge in a few imprecations at its cool effrontery, It ran as follows: “Dear Sir: Will you let my little boy, Billy, ‘ave six loaves and a pund of cheaze on trust, as my ‘usband is out of work, and will yer rap the cheaze in a bit of the situations vacant advertise ments of a newspaper, and tie the bread in a lump of your buter muslin, cos if the werst comes to the werst and the old man don't find @ job ‘e'll have to borrer your pair of steps and a pail and «eo out winder cleaning. Tit-Bits, A Word Painter “How far from here do you live?” asked the man who had listened atten- tively to the real estate agent. “Oh, several miles.” “I'm sorry for that. I'm sure my family could be happy forever in this sulturb if we could only drop in on you occasionally and hear you talk about it.” Washington Star, Suaight Talk Op Daxxy (to shiftless son): 1 hearn tell you is married. Is you? Son (ingratiatingly): 1 ain't sayin’ 1 ain't Orv Daxky (severely): I ain't ask you is you ain't; I ask you ain't you is. —dAmerican Legion Weekly. Wise Mother “Why is it your mother trusts us so seldom alone “She knows me better than you do John."—Harvard Lampoon, Twere are friends who will forgive you. . . . The rare one is the one who will teach you how to forgive your self—New York Evening Sun. A pumosormicat. anarchist must be something like an inspired agnostic, or a first person singular in the accusative casee—Wall Street Journal. MOLY MACKEREL! = ANOTHER FIVE rounps! Mow bo fT GeT THAT WeicH?” Carrying On Have’ vod hadi 166 iuRH WO) Katy asked the anxious mother. “Not yet,” replied the child bravely —Punch, HERE COMES 1920 hand in hand with FORMERLY KNOWN AS CHECONA EVANS ALE Trae to all of the 134 years of Evam” Excellence and Tradition, Try It at Hotels or Restaurants, Supplied by the Casoby L ing alerts C.H. EVANS &SONS“Enak 1786 HUDSON. NAS