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34
THE ATLANTIAN
September, 1922
Visit the
PEACHTREE CAFE
For Something Really
GOOD TO EAT
Our Watchword is Service
OUR MEATS AND VEGETABLES ARE THE
BEST WE CAN BUY
DELICIOUS SALADS AND DESSERTS
Courtesy to All We Are Here to Stay
Cleanest and Most Sanitary
Place in the South
111 Peachtree Street
Two golfers, finishing their first
round, met under the showers in the
club room. Both were enthusiastic
over the game and were questioning
each other on their respective scores.
“How did it go for the first time?”
asked the first golfer.
“Pine,” answered the second, “and
what did you do it in?”
“Two hours and a half,” came back
the unusual retort.
Father—Why can’t you do some
thing? If I should die you’d have to
beg for money.
Son—Well, I ought to be able to do
that. I’ve had practice enough around
here.—Boston Beanpot.
Kind Old Gentleman—How do you
like school, my little man?
Little Man—I like it closed, sir.
“I sleep like a log.”
“Yes, with a saw going through
you.”
LET “PAT DO IT”
510 Courtland St.
Crabshaw—The portrait you paint
ed of the young flapper is startling
in its realism.
Smere—It should be. In order to
get the right tints I had her mix the
colors herself.
Perhaps it would help some if mon
key glands were grafted on the Re
publican elephant.
“Why, Bob, you have a terrible black
eye, did you meet with an accident?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call her that.”—
Harvard Lampoon.
It was at the Van Brewster’s recep
tion, heralded far and wide as the so
cial event of the season. Mr. and Mrs.
Jones arrived late, a little flustered
by the magnificence of the reception
hall. Jones, in his embarrassment,
handed the butler a laundry check.
“Pardon me, sir,” said the offended
official, “but what is this for?”
Jones, however, was equal to the
occasion.
“Two callers!" he replied, without
hesitation.—Toronto Goblin.
Professor—Aren’t you Mr. .Smith?
Stude—No, sir, I’m Mr. Smith’s
twin brother.
“Ah, I see; what name, please?”—
Notre Dame Juggler.
Harry—Did you feel the earthquake
last night?
Carrie—No, I was shimmying.—
Washington Dirge.
King—What ho, sirruh, call the
guard.
Prime Minister—Sire, it is raining,
and the guard has lost his umbrella.
“Then by all means what ho the
mudguard.”—Stanford Chaparral.
When the truth comes out, it will
doubtless be shown that Man Friday
was Robinson Crusoe’s bootlegger.
Mrs. Crawford—We’re getting up a
club to study auto-suggestion. You
must join.
Mrs. Crabshaw—Auto-suggestion ?
If it’s a new scheme to get your hus
band to buy a car you can count me
in.
AT BEAUTY’S SHRINE.
By Thomas J. Murray.
A Dresden China loveliness she wears,
I e’en might say she’s fairer than the
day,
Perchance you’ll wonder if the gay
street stares—
Well, I should say.
I know a sweet flapper named Pick
ering
Who sets all the neighbors to snick
ering,
Because when she struts
In her knickers and “putts,”
She looks like a model (from Chick-
ering)!
Jones—I hear Smith made 72 yes
terday.
Brown—I’m sorry to hear that!
Jones—Sorry? Why that’s par for
the course?
Brown—I know that. I’m sorry be
cause Smith will be off his game the
rest of his life.
DR. B. E. HALL
Dentist
35 V 2 WHITEHALL ST. Phone M. 5351
EXTRA GOOD DENTAL WORK AT
REASONABLE PRICES
To praise her beauty words I’ll never
spare,
I keep the pharmacy across the way,
And do I sell the goods that make her
fair?
Well, I should say!
Newbride—Did you get seats for
the theater, dearie?
Him—Yes, love, I got the forty-
third row.
“Oh, I’m so glad. The show won’t
bother us a bit back there.”—Wash
ington Dirge.
Even if skirts are getting longer,
we’re not sure that it proves any
thing. If long skirts meant modesty
and stanch morals, the women of the
Court of Louis XV would have been
as modest and as moral as an Epworth
League social.
Love may be blind, but a poor man
is never sued for breach of promise.
Irate Professor—Young man, do
you know anything about this course ?
Young Man—A little, sir. What
would you like to know?—Standford
Chaparral.
•Smith—Where did you get that um
brella, Jones?
Jones—Why—is it yours ?
Once upon a time there was a small
boy who always came to the table with
dirty hands and had to be sent away
to wash them.
“Why don’t you wash your hands
before you sit down ?” said his mother.
“You know perfectly well I shall send
you upstairs to do it.”
“Well, once you forgot,” said he.
II
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