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THE ATLANTIAN
:July, .1916
Forty-Nine
Publications turned out by
our presses every month—
nearly two each working
day. We print the Atlantian
The Publishers Press
195 MARIETTA STREET
PHONES, MAIN 1176-1177
HE FOLLOWED ORDERS.
“Never state as a fact anything you
,are not certain about,” the great ed
itor warned the new reporter, “or
you will get us into libel suits. In
such cases use the words ‘alleged,’
‘claimed,’ reputed,’ ‘rumored,’ and so
on.”
And then this paragraph appeared
in the society notes of the paper:
It is rumored that a card party was
given yesterday by a number of re
puted ladies. Mrs. Smith, gossip
says, was hostess. It is alleged that
the guests, with the exception of
Mrs. Bellinger, who says she hails
from Leavitt’s Junction, were ail
from here. Mrs. Smith claims to be
the wife of Archibald Smith, the so-
called “Honest Man” trading on Key
Street.
And when the editor had read the
report a whilring mass claiming to
be a reporter was projected through
the window and struck the street
with a dull thud.
A MYSTERY TO THE PROFESSOR
“Are you laughing at men?” de
manded the professor sternly of h’s
class.
“Oh, no, sir,” came the reply in
chorus.
“Then." asked the professor even
mare grimly, “what else is there in
the room to laugh at?”
A BIT SLOW.
“How are the incubators getting
along?” asked a friend of his neigh
bor who had recently bought some.
“Why, all right, I suppose; but al
though I have had them for two
weeks now, not one of the four has
laid an egg yet.”
HARD JOB.
Mrs. Crawford—Where did the idea
come from that a woman has no
sense of humor?
Mrs. Crabsihaw—I suppose it’s be
cause she doesn’t laugh at the stories
her husband keeps on .telHn'g her over
and over again.
REVISER VERSION.
Crawford—What’s your honest
opinion o fthe prevailing styles?
Crabshaw—The women seem to be
putting off till to-miorrow the clothes
they should be wearing today.
THE WISE SEHVANT.
Joseph was instructed by the hus
band to hang the picture on the right
while the wife thought the left was
the proper place. But the husband
insisted, and Joseph drove a hook in
the wall on the right. This done, he
put another hook on the left.
“W'hat is that second hook for?”
inquired the master in astonishment.
“That, sir,” said Joseph mildly, “is
to save me the trouble of bringing
the ladder tomorrow when you shall
have come around to the views of
madame.”
Hdw REED CAUGHT HIS TRAIN
The late Senator Thomas B. Reed
reached a railroad station one day
just as the local pulled out. As he
had an engagement in the city with
in a few hours he telegraphed to the
express train, soon due, that large
party wished to take the train at
A . The express stopped and Mr.
Reed boarded it, to be met by an
angry conductor.
“Where is the large party mention
ed in this telegram?" he exclaimed.
“Well,” answered Mr. Reed, “if I’m
not a large party, I don’t know who
is.”
ENOUGH TO DO ALREADY.
Little Mary had frequently been
scolded by her mother for tying her
sled on sleighs, and had promised to
reform. One dey 'her mother saw
her going past, with her sled tied to
a bob. She called her in and told
her how dangerous it was and also
that the law did not allow it.
“Don’t talk to me about the law,”
said Mary, “I have all I can da to
keep the Ten Commandments.”
THE PATIENT’S ENTRY.
Entering the patient’s room early
in the morning, the doctor picked up
the chart and read.
2 a. m.—Patient very restless.
Nusrc sleeping quietly.
WHY THEY LIKED IT.
Henry E. Dixey, the actor, met a
friend one afternoon on Broadway.
“Well, Henry,” exclaimed the
friend, “you are looking fine 1 What
day they feed you on?”
“Chicken mostly,” replied Dixey.
“you see, I am rehearsing in a play
where I am to be a thief, so just by
the way of getting into training for
the part I steal one of my own chick
ens every morning and have the cook
broil it for me. I have accomplished
the remarkable feat of eating thirty
chickens in thirty consecutive days.”
“Great Scott!” exclaimed the friend
“Do you still like them?"
“Yes, I do,” replied Dixey; “and
what is still, the chickens like me.
Why, they have got so when I sneak
into the henhouse they all begin to
cackle; ‘I wish I was in Dixey.* ”
BAD BOTH WAYS.
Charles’s mother was reproving him
for not veing more tidy about his
'hair, when his uncle, who was very
maid, thinking to soothe his feelings,
said:
“Charles, don’t you wish you were
as bald as I? Then you wouldn’t
have any hair to comb."
Charles heaved a long sigh of res
ignation.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “There
would 'be that much more face to
wash,”
, mm
BETTER BE SAFE THAN SORRY
All Work Guaranteed.
<t The Burnett Way is hard to beat,
He’s at Seventy-One South Pryor Street,
You’ll find him there early and late,
And both his phones are forty-eight. 9>