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t NEWS BRIEFS iian’s Comic Page DREERR S 5557 S Tel Eatt s s eR e : ; GREAT HEAVENS: E oo oo o R g Nouve \ l THE FIRE OUT IN PUDDING: Tm W A MINUTE! G HELP YHAT \ mfd: i R 2 EE T oo ; ’. ~, ‘( N £¢ - ', ). ‘ g @ "\ ” 1‘; : _ \"( 2 A_ ‘ {\?3 g ¥ //f & o | P %N\~ 4 \ s : | { 2D lOV : I'l E - 4 ‘l. N L SV &-; ig:,é_é = Shat G e A SN\ - "‘ 2 JEAF si) ¢ /,:%' .?“f\ | e S | B L 00T Y M i ‘ N e S ’ @ T B -—__;: R e 3 2K ‘ ///l < ' & S 4 ; S /}f i) \ f‘@ [ _:—: Nt - ; ‘)fl,;;;lx:z'/ A 7 > 7 s 4 © B ; e a e’. R et R\& o == o ‘e Polly Didn’t Have Anything on Her Mother R N | , i 3 70 | | v /), /N : ‘ 1! :/ \ ////////f’,/ | o i ,"'\’Nf"/ é v“\ r, _." ™ s bR \ £'»i it - :‘.“ ‘-'.. %," 9 ;AY: b 7 ' ,\, AN ‘ A_{ "{' ’2: - BNy g ] Nty B » T e SN oA LR PR NN ) s 111 - y / ‘“m ! v / 7 / THERE S GRATITUDE / AT B -00 N 0 / C:/e // TvE WAY THOSE //’ . e GUVS TAT THE T ;R e —!‘ 816 LEAGUES MADE A,{—NT AND i | EH v AND l A ‘il B AND [Rt | T A ee (=l ) ‘ ANE £ NOR ’/5 F X fl?fi 2 & | W%’{\- ~ay ¢ ( & "\Q\?Q E — A . e LR Gy = i O | (H?Ap 4’(”,“‘4 :%l ' ! (ps et B e[ ) } . 'Duo:'sr‘ MO"‘S‘./‘//’ »2\H- o —‘c ik /l’_’lé ¢)(‘ :t : " e/ a %‘J“@’\ - ) R 2.\\ I _ A\ THe NEXT DAY l\\ : R ONE OF THEM GETS AN OFFER ; OF!3 Adwgg( MORE FROM A RwpL COMNCERN — 1 oo ByE ! By TAD By George McManus 2 ‘, B ‘ i ‘\‘\‘\'.' /'/,V; o . Ry P-‘ o / ’ “ N .‘\ R f)/ Z firt 2 / ,o \"/7 "‘\ ) ,- A 7 '.’f - y '. :T.?/: l’ on’," gn ',' ® / Q(\/ 2/ 7 , Y V 47, ///‘. "R . ‘__ ,A" z‘ /,v" J; : ‘ g L Zd | '"“,m R 1 ,{;/‘_“ = - 3 e o 1 Elk % E_ B ;\“.-. K . k. (00, Jarrßei— '—@ Up-to-Date Jokes @ l When Mr. W. D. Howells, the fa mous American writer, was editing an American magazine, a young man called .on him at the office and of fered him a poem, Mr. Howells read the poem and thought it was good, but somehow it seemed rather fa miliar. “Did you write this unaided?’ he asked. “l 1 did¢’ replied the youthful poet. “T wrote every line of ijt.” “Then I am very glad to meet you, Lord Byron,” said Mr. Howells., “But 1 was under the impression that you had died some years ago.” _— During a concert tour of the late Theodore Thomas and his celebrated orchestra, one of the musicians died, and the following telegram was im mediately dispa?(‘hed to the parents of the deceased: “John Black died suddenly to-day. Advise by wire as to disposition.” In a few hours the answer was re celved, reading as follows: “We are broken-hearted; his dis position was a roving one.” They were discussing the relative position of various countries as mu sical centers. Germany seemed (0 have the most votaries, much to the evident displeasure of one excitable Italian, who wished his own country to carry off the palm. “Italy is turning out the most mu sicians, and has always turned out the most,” he cried. “Ach!"” exclaimed a German pres ent, “can you blame them?” “Professor, I know, my son 18 rather slow, but in the two years that you have had charge of his edu cation he must have developed a ten dency in some direction or other. What occupation do you suggest as a possible outlet for his energies, such as they are?” “Well, sir, I think he is admirably fitted for taking moving pictures of a glacier.” “YWhy do you insist on having the biggest share of the pudding, Harry?” asked the mother of z: small boy. “Isn't your older brother entitled to ¥ g “No, he isn't,” replied the little fellow. “He was eating pudding two yvears before 1 was born.” Determination Triumphed. Percy was motoring in his new caz. It was a pale-green affair—a sort of young lettuce-colored thing, with here and there a stripe of salad dressing. The lanes are narrow, and the hedges are high. Percy rather liked that, as it gave him a chance of ex ercising the latest thing in hooters, known as “The Dying Gladiator.” However, he was eventually brought to a standstill by a farmer's gig o:- cupying the whole of the road. Percy protested in vain that the old farmer should back his horse to a wider part of the road. The farmer was of tlie opinion that, as Percy's car had no mouth to be pulled about, it should do the backing. But Percy came of a fighting stock —his father had once been at the War Office—-s 0 he pulled out a paper and began to read it, or, rather. to pre tend to read it. Half an hour passed thusly., Then the farmer yawned. “l say, mister, when you've done with the paper let us know, and I'll come along and borrow it!"” Perey backed, Little Bobbie's Pa UM of Ma's club friends was 'p to the house last nite, talkiog about Shakespeer & and the glad day that is cummin wen wim men will have thare rites, & pa hd te*wtay in beekaus it was raining o hard that nobody was out on he streets at all. All the fun Pa was abel to have was to contradick every thing that the club ladies sed, & he did that all the time. Thare is nothing so sublime as the sublim-ity of Shakespeer, sed onc of the club ladies. I nevver cud see why peepul went so dippy oaver Shakespeer, sed [’ Of course, he was a pretty riter, but I have just been reeding sum oOf 'he works of Rider Haggard, & 1 th:ink he is grater than Shakespeer. ! Oh, hevings, sed all the club ladi s at onst, what in the wurld are you saying? Why, they sed, Rider Iluz gard ‘was just a riter of lite fickshun, & Shakespeer was the master riter of all time. Why, he was as much grater than Haggard.as a pipe orgun is greater than a pénny whistle. I nevver cud see it that way, =ed Pa. Thay call his gtuff poetry, but he dident eeven know how to maik th> lines rhyme at the ends., Lissen, =eil Pa; Yon Cassius hath a lean & hungry look; He thinks too much—such men are dangerous. Now, sed Pa, do you meen to te!! me that any self-regpeck-ting poet of to-day would try to rhyme “loox” with “dangerous?” You mite as we!l try to rhyme “heaven” with “Bi.- mingham, Alabama.” But, my deer sir, you do not under stand, sed one of the club ladies, Mi=- ter Shakespeer dident intend that the lines of his grate romantic poems shud rhyme. He rote moastly what is called blank verse. It has ihe rithem & swing & lilt to it, but not the rhyme. Then . isent poetry, sed Pa. What do you call poetry? sed one of the ladies. . Well, sed Pa, Wex Jones was telling me one time about a man that rote « poem on a envelope insted of a ad dress. The envelope con-tained a let. ter to a wood chopper in Silver Cuy, ldaho, & the man that addressed the letter rote on the envelepe: John Anderson, the red-faced scrub) To whom this letter ought to go. Is chopping hardwood for his grub At Silver City, Ildaho. That is what I call true poetry, sel Pa. It has the rithem & the rhym? to it, & at the saim time it is useful. All of the ladies looked at eecch other & thay looked at Ma., Ma looked man shud eetter rite poetry or prose, at Pa. 1 have always sed, sed Pa, that « man shud eether rite poetry or prose. If it has the tinkel & musick to if, it is poetry.” If it doesnt have the tinkel & musick to it, it is prose. You ladies cud set thare & argue with n:e all nite, sed Pa, but you cuddent change my mind a partikel. Jest then it stopped raining & I’v put on his coat & hat & went out ¢ visit the boys at the corner. 1 gugss Ma & her club friends was glad [ guess Pa was glad, too. Good Reason Why. He was an Inquisitive little man, was Jenks—a busybody; one of those people who make a’point of finding out everything about everything, especially when the thing in question is no concern of theirs. Why, therefore, he elected to spend a winter holiday at Slocombe-on-Mudl none of his friends could understand. And Jenks himself heartily regretted his decision after he had spent t(wo days there. It was the dullest place on earth, Then suddenly he heard of the vil lage centenarian. There lay a chance to continue the pursuit «f knowledge. Jenks forthwith hastened to the old man’s cottage. “And to what, if I may ask the question,” he began, “do you attribute your longevity?” The old man removed the long “churchwarden” from his nouth, looked at the young man, then, with a toothless lisp, dryly replied: “Po the fact that I have never died?” Something More to Tell. “This life,” said Muggins to him self, as he stood at Charing (‘ross and watched the stream of people and vehicles d It was his first visit to London, and he was making a note of everything of interest to tell the village debating society on his return home, Already he had invested in a soft hat with a tuft of feathers at the back. He had quickly caught the angle at which it should be worn, so that not a hair was tg be scen on his noble brow, As a further doggish ruse, he had adopted a pair of orange-toned spats, and, feeling one of London's K'nuts, he strolled down the Strand. The spirit of adventure was strong upon him, and he, with inward fut terings, decided to try a theater that displayed _alluring posters on the other ¢ide of the street, But, alas, when midwey a motor bus laid him low, “Where am 17" he gasped, as he breathlessly sat up, “'Bre yer are, sir,” quickly an swered an enterprising gutter mer chant. “Map of London, only one penny.”