Newspaper Page Text
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BIST HUMOR, MOVING
PICTURES, VAUDEVILLE.
ATLANTA, GA., SUNDAY, AUGUST 31, 1913.
There’s a Way to Reach
the Homes ot the People
It is through the
Want- Ad Col
umns ot the
SUNDAY AMERICAN
and ATLANTA GEORGIAN
Some People Never Had a Chance!
By T. E. POWERS, the Famous Cartoonist.
Copyright, 1918. by th* Company Ur eat Britain Bight* Kasartad.
//£ HtvtR HadWchahce
HE HE VCR
HAD A
CHANCE
HE NEVER HAD A
s* CHANCE
HE NEVER HAD A CHANCE
NEVER HAD A
CHANGE
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'HAD ANOTHER
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NEVER
HAD A
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He /iEVE/i HAD A CHANCE
HE NEVER HAD A CHANCE
Some
Seven
Wonders
Copyright, 1918. by th* Htar Oocnpany.
Oral flrl tala Right* Raecarrad.
J T is difficult to name Seven
Wonders that will be approved
by all, so a few groups are offered
for choice:
T\^ MILITANT suffragette.
Tbe first engagement ring.
A seat in a street car.
A woman who doesn’t care for shop
windows.
The situation In the Balkans.
Skirts a la mode.
A fat man looking cooL
WAITER who doesn't want#
tip.
An honest taxi meter.
Bryan's favorite tipple.
Summer fiction.
The New Haven Railroad.
A husband who has the last word.
The Coney Island idea of fun.
pRESH eggs.
A railroad time table.
A chicken crossing the street.
A summer musical comedy.
A seaside engagement.
A teetotaler.
A never busy phone line.
yRUE love.
A home team that wins.
A college graduate.
The Mexican “government.”
Roosevelt's next move.
How our neighbors live.
Unselfishness.
VV7 EATHER forcasts.
’ * His first suspenders..
Pay day.
A country sheriff.
| A hasebaH fan.
! A commuter’s garden.
1 SWl
ACTING BY
W ELL—rm the song seller. Do you want any songs?
LOIS—I’m the scrub lady. Do you want to be cleaned up?
WELL—I got tbe greatest line of songs on or off tbe marked
Look at thle one—"When tbe Gas Stove Blew the Daylights Out of
Nellie."
LOIS—That's a wrench to turn on the weep hydrant, all right.
WELL—Here's a four-base hit—"If I Only Had My Rubbers I’d Sneak
Home."
LOIS—Some batting average
WELL—How about this—"If Niagara Falls Was Only Lager Beer.”
Lois—Then they’d he building homes for destitute brewers.
Well—Oh, I would I were a actor instead of a purveyor of plebeian
song books. I'd rather play a villain than eat, drink and be merry.
LOIS—All righto. In these rocky days everything's a bluff. Let's
pretend we’re real actors and play a play.
WELL—What shall we render?
LOIS—The sawmill scene in "Bertha, the Bellicose Bombthrower."
WELL—Well, as you are the leading lady you start the trouble.
We’ll first have a little "Hearts and Flowers."
LOIS—Look out you don't get clubs and cabbages.
WELL—If I do it’ll be Bpades and sod for yours.
LOI9 (enterinff)—Harold 1 My tooth aches for thee! He’s not here.
And I am only two hours late. Well, I had to button up my back myself. I
suppose i must wait, but while I’m playing waitress I take great pleasure
in introducing my newest song riot: “I Only Rush the Growler for My
Own Step-Mother Dear.” (Sinfft.)
A little maid was strolling by the Hudson River banks.
When she met two gents she'd never saw and both of them was tanks.
They had an empty growler In which lay a shining dime.
And being tanks they wanted hear; they guzzled all th© time.
A ffinFMT-By WELLINGTON CROSS AND LOIS JOSEPHINE.
JL \ « JL Now Appearing in “The Passing Show of 1913”
Copyright, 191 ft. by th* Star Uompaa* (hrwmi Brit*to RrwrrrrO.
Jokes and Jingles
—
W HEN a girt begins to notice what brand of cigarette* a bach
elor prefers he might as well begin to consider her taste in
solitaires.
—Will you please go rush this scuttle?” they asked the purty maid.
But much to their surprise and gloom the maiden Boftly said:
Chorus.
I only rush the growler for step-mother dear at home,
She likes mixed ale and lager with a very little foam,
She only drinks the can I’ve rushed; she'll never touch another,
So I only chase the pall for dear step-mother.
Second Voiae:
Them gents was awful sorry when them tearful wolds was spoke.
Their thirst indeed should have been drenched; they surely thought
they'd choke.
"Get to the boozery,” they said, "and see Philip McCann,”
The maiden knowed 'twas growler time and thencewards fast she ran,
And them two bums stood standing there, their thirst still unallayed,
They was thlnkln’ of yon maiden and them tearful wolds she sayed.
WELL—Ah, me proud beauty—well met. What hoi
LOIS—Whatcha mean, what ho?
WELL—Hose, then, since you Insist on silk sox.
LOIS—Whassamatter, whassamatter?
WELL—I wantcher love, and fifty oents.
LOIS—Can yuh ohange a "V”?
WELL—I know you-uhl Yer Soda Water Sadie, the Phoshate Phlend
Yes, yare; yes, yerez.
LOIS—By my maple nut sundae, he knows meh!
WELL—Yes, Sadie Seltzer, you don’t deceive me with your slit skirt.
LOIS—One must let out one’s skirts when one lives on the outskirts
WELL—Do you realize, gell, that we are-here all alone, all by our
selves, you and I together, just we two, only us? Jt tn^an to have one kiss
from those drug store ruby Ups,
LOIS—Ah, you gwan. I’ll bite them lips off first,.
WELL—Sothatsltlslt? Verruh well. I am going to hind you to the
railroad track. In fourteen hours, If she's Dot over a week late, the Erie
flyer will crash by here at ee-leven miles per hour, if she's lucky. Then
where'll you be? Worse off than If you were travelling on the New Ha
ven. That's some worse.
LOIS-—Oh, but my che-lld; my little brat?
WELL—Nix, nix. You have no che-lld In this play.
LOIS—That’s so. I forgot.
WELL—This terrible place Is the heart of Hoboken. Now I am going
to lash you to the t-r-acks. Now I shall flee and overtake the 8:98 express
and escape in the gloaming.
LOIS—What shall I do? What shall I do? It’s funny I never know
what to do. Here I am, tied to Phoebe Snow’s tracks and my bones will
be bleaching In the scorching sun before the flyer creeps over me. Oh, If
Harold, the hasty hairdresser, were only here
WELL—I’ll be there in a minute. It's a yulck change to Harold, but
I'm ready. It’s a beautiful afternoon to-night after yesterday’s storm this
morning. On such a night one forenoon our little sunbeam left the vil
lage and wondered awa', and we ain’t never saw her since. Perhaps, how
ever, she Is taking It easy, earning her living. What’s this? Why, It's
Sadie. Little freckle-eared Sadie, the pride of the village vignettes. And
she has a railroad track tied to her. And by next week the northbound
train will come tearing down the southbound track. Ain’t U awful. Sadie?
LOIS—Be I awake? Was It Harold’s voice I heard, or was It a buzz
saw working overtime? Oh, I am faint with bouI hunger, and I know
my hair Is a sight! Oh, If I could only get at my chewing gum.
WELL—Here I am, your Harold, Kindly remove your chewing gum.
i'm stuok on you. .
A
FTER all, the kind of women who prefer dogs to bable* are
the kind whose race suicide is small loss.
A
A Tasty Mouthful.
ISTRESS—Did the mustard plaster do you any good,
Bridget? Bridget—Sure it did, mum; but, begorry, it do
bite the tongue 1
A
Caustic Criticism.
SK1TT—Who originated the cubist cult of art?
TELLIT—Oh, some block head artist, I suppose.
“C‘
All She Had.
OUI-D you give me,” inquired the poor woman, “a eastoff
dress of your little girl’s for my little girl, or a pair of
your little boy’s shoes for my little boy?”
“I have no little girl,” responded the rich woman, ‘‘nor any
little boy. But I can give you one of my little dog’s castoff collars
for your little dog.”
All it Amounts To.
if TF you don’t do your work better,” said the lady of the house,
1 ‘‘1 shall discharge you immediately.”
‘‘I wouldn’t dare say that to my codk.” remarked a visi-
j tor.
‘‘Well, I dare say it to mine, and frequently, too, I guess I've
'said that every day for a "ear. «