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Ry ‘ ; f';‘—f///f’ é}?- .fime?‘fi.—“ | By TAD Up-to-Date Jokes A dealer eelling cloth in a small town asked an Irishman who was passing if he would buy a suit length, and added: “You can have it for ten bob.” | To which Pat replied: “Begob, sir, if tuppence would buy the makings of a Eopcout for an elephant I couldn’t buy the makings of a pair of leggings for a canary this minute,” Rosemary —lsn't it wonderful how prolific some of the old novelists were when it is taken into consideration that they had to do all their composi tion with pen and ink? . Thornton—Yes; I shudder to think of what they might have turned out if they could have had the advantage of typewriters, One of Lord Sandwich’s ancestors went to Paris to learn dancing, but as his lordship had an awkward, sham bling gait his attempts at dancing were not very successful. The danc ing master had been very civil, how ever, and the Earl as he was taking his leave offered to do what he could for him in London. “Then,” said the man, bowing pro foundly, “I should esteem it a partic ular favor if your lordship would never tell anyone who taught you to dance,” “l enjoyed your*sermon tiis morn ing very much,” said Mark Twain to a clergyman of his acquaintance. “I welcomed it like an old friend. I have, yvou know, a book at home conlaining every word of it.” “You have not,” said the preacher, “I have, indeed,” returned the humorist, “Well, send that book to me. I'd like to see it.” “You shall” Mark Twain replied. And he sent the next morning an un abridged dictionary to the minister. Daysey Mayme and Her Folks By FRANCES L. GARSIDE. VERYONE, all the way from ('a!- E cutta to Calgary, either 'has written a moving picture piayv or has one in his mind. And the greatest of these are those that .ro still in their minds, The scenar!d is the latest and maosi approved metincd for lifting the mort gage from the Dear Old Home; it :s the foundation on which all modern dreams of achievement are builded; it is the ultimate hope for fame and sue cess. “Some day,” everyone says, “l will write the prize scenario,” and the as surance that this prize scenario is hidden away in his brain gives (e dreamer a finer epicurean relish (or the efforts of others. “Humph,” e will say after witnessing .a moving picture play, “I can write one better than that myself!” It was with this assurance of gre:t er achievement that Daysey Mayme Appleton had enjoyed the moving pic ture efforts of others. She could wril: a better play herself; she said it fally 500 times, All of us all the way from Calcutia to Calgary who have sent prize scena rios away and enjoyed our dreams of snending the money they brought us know what a sickening sensatjon it :s when the postman wakes us up. . Day .- sey Mayvme experienced it when “Bel ter Believe Betty” was put back ‘n her hands. ‘ Like all the rest of us who have had prize scenarios come back, she knew beyond a doubt that the vil lainous producers had kept her secna rio just long enough to steal its go.d points, and in her next visit to a meving picture theater her suspicions were confirmed. “Betty was young and pretty,” she sobbed, “and I disguised her as an «'d maid that she might command a nephew just arriving from abroad to marry Betty:; the villain kidnaps ,he nephéew and throws him into a cellay; there aré an automobile chase, a ghost, a faded rose that serves as a clew, a lurking figure at moonligat, three murders, a long-lost brother, a donation party at the preacher's, .« housebreaker, a chase by three polico men, a deathbed, a lost will, a jealous husband, a twin sister, a drowning, an innocent man accused, and the her oine is in the hero’s arms at last. And every play given this afternoon had some of these in it, stolen from my scenario!" Alas, 'twas true, for there is some - thing from “Better Believe Betty” in every play. There is ne use trying any mor-. Like the rest of us, Daysey Mayme i 3 convinced that real genius ne lona:r has a chance. Birds of a Feather. Pat and Mike shared a.room to gether and, since both of them had been out of work for some time past. they. were by no means sorrv to have found jobs again, although in future it would be necessary for them to leave home at 5 a. m, That was much too early for Pat's liking, and he said so volubly when, in the cold, dim hours of the early morning, Mike turned him out of bed. He said so more volubly when he learned that the elock had stopped, and that Mike had merely guessed the time. It couldn't be anything like 5 o'clogk, said Pat and, to prove his statement, led his friend to the win dow and showed him the moon. Mike maintained it was the sun. Pat swore it was the moon, and con tinued all the while he dressed, and even when, accompanied by Mike, who made his way toward the town. To tell the truth, he was quite angry on the subject, Just then a tramp hove in sight, whom Mike, in order to reassure his friend, accosted: “If ye plaze,” he asked, “will ye tell us—is that the sun or the moon'?" “Dunna,” mumbled the tramp, as he slouched past. “I'm a stranger in these parts myself.” ’ One for the Missus. Only one cloud-—not so very much bigger than a woman's hand—had cast a shadow over the early married life of Mr. and Mrs. Jinks, i 1t was due to the fact that he would insist on singing the praises of his mother's skill in culinary matters at his wife's expense. One day his ma ternal parent came up to stay with the young couple, and Jinks asked the old lady to take notice of the food his wife gave him, and to give her some hints during the day. The first morning that the three sat down to breakfast Mrs. Jinks sail to hubbhy: “And how do you like the toast (.8 morning, dear?” “Oh, it's flabby, as usual!” answered he, with a long-suffering look at h's mother. = “Oh, I am sorry! But the baconu's all right, isn't it, darling?" “Only half cooked, as always, Ma ria!” “Well, have an egg, then, swee'- heart?” “They're boiled as hard as bullets!™ “Oh, dear! I am sorry you have had such a bad breakfast, especiatiy as your dear mother cooked it for you for a treat!” Doctor (to patient)—You'll have to rouse yourself up and take more in terest in your business. Patient—My dear thir, that ith ab tholutely impothible, Doctor—Why? What is your busis ness? Patient—ll'm a money lender.,