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THE ATLANTIAN
Lawrence Floral Company
138
Peachtree
Street
Atlanta,
Ga.
CHOICE
CUT FLOWERS
For
ALL OCCASIONS
Designs of all Kinds Our Specialty
No Order Too Large
Or Too Small for Us
W. C. LAWRENCE
Secretary and Treasurer
FORMERLY WITH WEST VIEW
Recognition.
The bored youth turned to his din
ner partner with a yawn.
“Who is that strange-lookiug man
over there who stares at me so much?”
he drawled.
“Oh, that’s Professor Jenkins,” she
replied, “the famous expert on insan
ity.”—Tit-Bits.
His Best.
“We miss President Wilson’s quiet
and trenchant wit sadly here at Prince
ton,” said an instructor in Greek.
“I remember at one of President
Wilson’s receptions, I complained of
a man who boasted of his bad hab
its.
“ ‘When a man,’ said the president;
‘boasts of his bad habits, you may
rest assured that they’re the best he
has.’ ”—Philadelphia Bulletin.
More Adulteration.
The Town Druggist—Pretty cold.
Ezry! Jus’ twenty below zero!
Old Inhabitant—Huh! Your twenty
below now’days don’t begin to be as
cold as our ten below in the early
seventies!—Puck.
We’re Wrong Again.
“Of course, you have your little
theory about the cause of the high
eost of living?”
“I have,” replied Mr. Groweher
“too many people are trying to make
political economy take the place of do
mestic economy.”—Washington Star.
The Gods and Man.
After the Gods had crea'ed woman
they were so gracious as to ask man
what he thought of her.
“Isn’t she—er—rather foolish and
irrational?” ventured man, after a
moment’s thought.
“That’s so she may live in the same
world with you and still be happy!”
retorted the Gods, tartly.
And man had to knowledge that the
ambrosia was on him.
About What They’re Like.
“I fancy last night finished my rep
utation,” said young Harold as his
friend looked him up the night after
the ball.
“Finished you?” asked the friend.
“Yes, my drunken conditon at the
ball.”
“Why, not at all, man. Haven’t
yon seen this morning’s papers? You
are the social hero; everybody thinks
you have invented a new dance.”
The Contrary Sex.
Mark Twain, so the story goes, was
walking on Hannibal street when he
met a woman with her youthful fam
ily.
“So this is the little girl, eh?”
Mark said to her, as she displayed her
children. “And this sturdy little ur
chin in the bib belongs, I suppose, to
the contrary sex.”
“Yassali,” the woman replied; “yas-
sah, dat’s a girl, too.”—Exchange.
The Party That Worked.
Mr. Green: Now I’m going to tell
you something, E.hel. Do you know
that last night, at your party, your
sister promised to marry me? I hope
you’ll forgive me for taking her away.
Little Ethel: Forgive yon, Mr.
Green? Of course, I will. Why that
is what the party was for.
What She Thought About Him.
“Do you darn your husband’s
socks?” asked Mis. Higgins of Mrs
Smith.
“Darn them?” echoed Mrs. Smith.
“My dear, I use a stronger word than
that.”
Vital Statistics.
The nervous young thing approach
ed the porter in a sleeping car timid
ly-
“Oh, porter, please, where do I
sleep?”
“What’s de numbah ob youah berth
ma’am?” he queried.
She looked at him helplessly for a
moment, then said:
“I don’t see what that has to do with
it; but if yon must know, it’s the sec
ond. Brother Bill was born before
me.”—Bag Trum Nathan, New York.
Business.
She was a sentimental young girl
and had devoted much time and len
der thought to the home decorations
for Christmas. Her surprise may be
imagined when she came downstairs
one morning and found the decorations
moved around. The mistletoe boughs,
that had been half hidden in secluded
places, had been substituted for the
holly wreaths, and were now hung in
I he front windows, in plain view of
passers-by.
“Say, sister,” explained her little
brother, “you’ve had that mistletoe
hanging up for nearly a week and you
haven’t had a single customer. You’re
not up-to-date. What, you want to do
is to advertise.”—Judge
Hard or Soft Boiled?
The sweet young thing was being
shown through the shops of the loco
motive works.
“What is that thing?” she asked,
pointing with her dainty parasol.
“That,” replied the guide, “is an
engine boiler.”
She was an up-to-date young lady
and at once become interested. “And
why do they boil engines?” she in
quired again.
“Oh,” replied the young fellow
thoughtfully, “to make the engine ten
der.”—Earle W. Gage, New York.
Unfortunate Gallantry.
To his little native town a busy city
man recently returned for a visit. As
he had not seen the place nor its peo
ple for a long time he was kept pretty
busy greeting old friends. Among
those whom he encountered was an
elderly spinster, who beamed upon him
with:
“Oh, Mi-. Smith! I am sure you
don’t remember me!”
I ♦o♦o♦o♦o♦o♦o♦o♦o♦o♦o♦o^
FOR THE BEST IN f
HIGH GRADE j
COFFEES^ AND TEAS j
| CALL l
| C. D. KENNY CO 1
1 82 Whitehall Street I
^ The Store with a Reputation for i
► Serving the Best on the Market l
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