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The Saddest Word and the Gladdest Word—“Good-bye” and “Hello” © © © By nell brinkley
Had the Advantage.
Second Man—Beg pardon, but you
have the advantage of me
-First Man—Yes. I suppose I have.
We were engaged to the same girl,
but you have married her.
Delaying the Torture.
Harry—Do you believe in long en
gage menta?
Tom -Of course. The longer a man
is engaged the less time he has to ne
married.
ODOR-O-NO
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in toilet articles. li yoar particular dea
hasn t it order direct, giving his name to tb
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^ And other “live” deale-s in Toilet Articles
INSIST ON ODOR-O-NO-THERE'S NOTHING "JUST AS GOOD
Nell Brinkley Says
I KNOW lots of folks who won’t say it—that saddest word
—“good-bye.” “Adieu,” they say, and “addio,” “fare
well” and “so-long,” “auf Wiedersehen” and “aloha,”
“until the next time'’ and “be good’’—but not “good bye.”
Under the word “good-bye” the sun seems dim. Birds
droop and do not sing. The heart beats slow and heavy and
the temples ache and tighten. The blue sky films with gray.
Every face that turns our way and passes on seems to hide
tragedy. Everybody else in the world, seems like, is saying
good-bye, too.
And we watch them with tenderer eyes since we are bid
ding some one farewell. After good-bye there is nothing to do,
no place to go, no one to see. The world seems bigger and
suddenly wiped bare of beauty. We are afraid!
But EVERYBODY will say “HELLO!” They don’t go
hunting round for another word, any other word, so they can
sort of slide by the plain, potent English. Under the short, keen,
gladdest word, the sun and the sky are gold and blue. If it
rains, why then we suddenly like rain. Under our tight jackets
the heart beats high and fast and bursting big. Every face
that turns our way seems like it had good news and blinds us.
If, maybe, a sad one lifts out of the glad ones, we forget
it soon. Because we are saying “Hello.” And if there’s a
bird singing anywhere we hear it. There is so much to do, so
much to see, so many folks to like. The world seems suddenly
like a rose and “full,” as sweet-tempered R. L. S. says, “of a
number of things.”
And we are not afraid.
Do You Know—
Advice
to the Lovelorn
The Crooked Billet—an Inn which still
stands upon Tower Hill, as it has stood
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
for generations past—boasts Itself as
the oldest wine and spirit house in Lon
don. There is every reason to believe
that the Inn dates from the time of
Henry VIII. Certainly no London inn is
more romantic in the matter of sliding
panels and concealed doors, secret
rooms, anti underground passages—one
of these reputedly leads to the Tower—
and t Hick walls richly carved. There is
a tradition that Oliver Cromwell once
lived (or lodged) at the Crooked Billet.
Clocks without hands or faces are
now common in Switzerland. The time
piece stands in the hall, and when a
button is pressed by means of phono
graphic arrangements it calls out
•‘Half-past five," or “Five minutes to
nine," as the case may be.
PERHAPS HE IS SHY.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am working In a place of busi
ness with a man of whom I think
» great deal. Any time I write
him to call to see me he appears
to be quite delighted and calls,
but never makes any effort to
call unless I ask him. Don’t you
think he should ask me if he can
(ill PUZZLED.
Such a request from him would
show an interest in you which he
now seems to lack. You say he al
ways accepts and is delighted. That
encourages me in the belief that he
thinks a gTeat deal of you, but is
bashful.
Don't ask him for a time. I have
an idea he will speedily ask you.
LET IT BE NO.
He promised me he w r ould in the
spring. Kindly let me know if
I shall give any decided answer.
ANXIOUS.
You are sixteen and can well af
ford to wait. You do not state what
the man’s position is, so my advice is
based only on your years. I w r ant
love to come to you, but, believe me,
my dear, it will be all the sweeter
if your judgment is more mature.
MAKE THE OVERTURES.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am in love with a girl and
she is in love with me. We had
been keeping steady company, but
lately we got mad, and we do not
speak to each other. 1 would like a
reconciliation and so would she.
B. S. L.
You are a man, and stronger to bear
The greatest number of runners ever
contesting in a single race ran through
the streets of New York recently in a
twelve and three-eighths-mile mara
thon. The runners taking part were
1.500 in number, and there were 300
prizes.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am a young lady of sixteen
$.nd keeping company with a
young man of eighteen for one
year. This young man has asked
m e to marry him. but 1 would like
for him to change h!j# position
the burden. Take on your shoulders
the burden of the blame, persuading
yourself that you offended ami deserve
it. Tell her you alone are to blame, beg
forgiveness, and promise never to offend
1 again If you are not willing to say
”1 was wrong.” then you are not fitted
to say ”1 love you."
He Wasn’t Shy.
Old Lady (to cabman)—Does your
horse ever shy at motors?
Cabby—Lor’ bless you, no, lady; 'e
didn’t even shy when railway trains
fust come in.
HOW ARE YOU FEEDING YOUR
CHILDREN?
Are you giving them nourishing
food—food that will develop their
muscles, bones and flesh—food that
is easily digested and cheap?
Ever thought about Spaghetti—
Faust Spaghetti? Do you know that
a 10c package of Faust Spaghetti
contains as much nutrition as 4 lbs.
of beef? Your doctor will tell you It
does. And Faust Spaghetti costs one-
tenth the price of meat. Doesn't that
solve a big item in the high cost of
living?
You probably haven’t served Faust
Spaghetti as often as you should be
cause you don’t know how many dif
ferent ways it can be cooked—write
for free recipe book to-day and
you'll be surprised at the big variety |
of dishes you can make from this
nutritious food. In 5c and 10c pack- J
ages.
MAULL BROS.,
St. Lou's, Mo.
Like Champagne.
At a meeting presided over by a bur
ly country squire the chief speaker was
a budding orator with a seat in the up
per house.
Said the chairman, grasping the nerv
ous speaker by the arm on the conclu
sion of his lordship’s address:
“Your speech was like a glass of good
champagne’’—here the noble lord smiled
pleasantly—“lots of froth and very dry."
Then ihe smile came off.
His Guide Book.
An English bishop who was an ex
tremely busy man. and had to travel a
good deal, was addressing the children
of a school. He said:
“My dear children. I have been all
this week traveling hither and thither
through my diocese, and what book do
you think has guided me? Come, now,
it’s a book beginning with ‘B.’ ”
“The Bible, sir,” cried a chorus of
youthful voices.
"Ah, no,” said the Bishop, with a
twinkle in his eye. “It’s Bradshaw."
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