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THE AT L ANTI AN
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BROKEN PROMISES.
There were sacred promises given,
Pledges that never were kept,
And fond, loving hearts have been
broken,
And innocent eyes have wept
Sad tears for prayers unanswered
And promises all untrue,
For confidence lost forever,
That naught canst ever renew.
Perhaps in the soul’s hereafter,
When troubles are all made plain,
We’ll know why prayers are unan
swered,
We’ll know why tears were in vain;
Why so much weakness and sorrow
And vows that were never fulfilled,
We’ll know when life’s trials are
over,
And all of the heartaches are stilled.
When promises are never broken,
Where truths never weep for wrong,
Where hearts are not breaking for
others,
And love is a lasting song.
God grant that humility’s lesson,
The scourging so hard to bear,
May redeem each broken promise,
And answer in Heaven each prayer.
WHAT SHE WANTED.
(From the Detroit Free Press.)
“What did she say when the judge
granted her a divorce, but forbade her
to marry in this State again t ’ ’
“She asked the judge to make her
husband provide her with traveling ex
penses. ’ ’
BEFORE AND AFTER.
(From the Cleveland Plain Dealer.)
‘ ‘ How does this noted healer who
cures his patients by touching them dif
fer from a regular physician!”
< < Why, ho touches them before he
cures them.”
FOLLOWED SUIT.
The bride had engaged Sarah, only a
week in America, as a housemaid. On
her first day her mistress said: “Now,
Sarah, I will go over the entire house
with you and show you exactly what you
are to do.” She then kissed her hus
band, and went on her rounds with the
new girl.
The next morning as the bride and
her husband were sitting at breakfast
she was horrified to see Sarah enter, and,
blushing furiously, go up to the young
man, throw her arms about him and
give him a kiss.
RHETORICAL.
(From Puck.)
The Cocked Hat and the Last Ditch
met by chance on fine day.
“By the by,” inquired the Last
Ditch, “was any one ever actually
knocked into you!”
“Frankly, no,” rejoined the Cocked
Hat. “And you—did any one ever real
ly and truly die in you!”
‘ ‘ Positively no one 1 ’ ’ confessed the
Last Ditch, fully and freely.
With which exchange of confidence
these devices of rhetoric, having regard
ed each other curiously for a moment,
went their divers and separate ways.
WHERE IT BELONGED.
“Where are you going!”
“To fetch some water, Sorr.”
“What, in those disreputable trous
ers!”
“No, Sorr, in this ’ere pail.”—Lon
don Opinion.
TOO EARLY.
(From The Memphis News-Scimitar.)
“The conditions seem to be favora
ble,” admitted the trance medium. “I
am unable to get any communication at
all from your late husband.”
“Well, I’m not at all surprised,”
said the widow. “It’s only 9 o’clock
now, and John never did show up till
about 2 a. m.”
THE TROUBLE IN THAT
FAMILY.
(From The Chicago Record-Herald.)
“You told me when you said good-bye
yesterday that I should never see you
again,” she complained, as she straight
ened up beside the tub.
“I know I did,” he replied, leaning
wearily against his breath, ‘ * but you
know what’ th’ philosoph’r says, don-shu!
A bad promise is (hie!) better broken.’
Why donshu try to be (hie!) more phil
osophic’1! Thash whatsh always been
the trouble in thish fam’ (hie!) fam’ly.
You ain’t go ’ny phil (hie!) osophy in
your system. ”
WELL TRAINED.
(From The Boston Transcript.)
Hub (angrily): “What! More
money! When I’m dead you’ll probably
have to beg for all the money you get.”
Wife (calmly): “Well, I’ll be bet
ter off than some- poor woman who
never had any practice.”
BY HIS OWN CONFESSION.
When Joseph F. Johnston arrived in
Washington as a member of the United
States Senate from the glorious and gal
lant State of Alabama, Senator Burrows
of Michigan took a great fancy to him.
One day in the cloakroom Burrows
turned to another Senator and said:
“Du Pont, stand up. I want you to
meet Johnston of Alabama.”
The man from Delaware rose to his
feet.
“Du Pont,” said Johnston, taking
the proffered hand, “I believe you’re
the infernal Yankee who shot me at
Cedar Creek.”
“Well, well!” commented the Dela
ware Senator, somewhat puzzled. “What
makes you think so!”
“I see by the two pages of your biog
raphy in the Congressional Directory,”
explained Johnston, “that you com
manded practically every regiment in the
Union Army during the Civil War. Some
infernal Yankee shot me, and I think
it was you. ’ ’
THE FORSYTH
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