aD
Drmgeeatic:
Bellefonte, Pa., Dec. 22, 1905.
SHOPPING WIrd THE MUSE.
Thus spake the Sage at Christmas time—his
words were full of heat ;
“The only thing I like to get in my stocking is
my feet.”
When earth’s last present is given, when the
gifts are bundled and tied
And we've paid the charge to express them
wherever the folks abide,
We shall rest—and, faith, we shall need it; lie
down till we gather strength,
For we know that our Christmas presents are
coming to us at length.
We know that for every trinket that we in
despair have bought,
That somebody else over our gift in worry has
thought and thought ;
That slippers and smoking jacket, and razors
and guns and knives
And holiday sets of Shakespeare have shorten-
ed some other lives.
Thus spake the Sage at Christmas time :
many men have joked
About the box of gift cigars-—-such men as never
smoked.”
“Ah,
And many shall say they are happy—they shall
git in a Morris chair
And puff at a Flor de Rubber with a merry and
grateful air ;
And each of us rather slyly his flattened out
purse shall touch
And look at his Christmas present, and mutter :
“I spent too much.”
Perhaps when the years have swiftly away to
the futare flown,
Then no one shall give a present, but each one
shall buy his own—
Then each one shall hang his stocking aloft on
his separate star
And pick out the Thing he chooses--and puff
at his own cigar.
Thus spake the Sage : ‘At your distress ’tis not
for me to scoff ;
If you don’t like what fills your hose, then have
your legs cut off.”
W. D. N., in Chicago Tribune.
A CHRISTMAS TREE STORY.
The Brook babbled and laughed gleefully
to itself,and trickled from under the stones
and out from its bed to the bank where the
purple-penciled white violets grew. ‘‘What
do yot think 2’ it whispered to the nod-
ding, sweet-scented flowers, ‘‘when I was
going by the Little Spruce Tree on the crest
of the hill, she tossed me a cone from one
of her branches, and begged me to carry it
to the Tall Spruce thatgrows farther down
the slope. What do you think of that?’
Now, it all happened in this wise: The
Tall Spruce had not always been tall, and
the Little Sproce Tree had once been
smaller than she was now, and in those
days neither one had thought anything
about the other. But there came a spring
that was different from all other springs,
because then the Tall Spruce looked up at
the Little Sprace Tree outlined against the
blue of the sky, and noticed for the first
time in his life how slender and symmet-
rical she was, and with what a delicate
green she bad tipped her twigs and
branches. So when the cool Spring Breeze
came by, the Tall Spruce beckoned to it,
murmuring a message for the Little Tree,
and begged the Breeze to carry it to her.
So as he passed the Little Spruce Tree he
stopped and said, carelessly, ‘‘Oh, while I
was going by the Tall Spruce down there
he gave me a message for youn.”
The Little Spruce Tree trembled with
eagerness. ‘‘Oh, tell me what it was,”
she sighed.
‘I am not sure that I remember it,’’ said
the Breeze, teasingly. Then, as he saw
how tbe branches of the Little Tree became
quite still and drooping with disappoint-
ment, he relented, and went on briskly :
‘‘Bu$ I think it was something like this:
‘How I should like to come up where you
are and let you lean against me, you are so
little and I am so big-and strong.’”’
Then the Breeze sped away laughing,
leaving the Little Tree trembling more
than ever and filled with happiness. She
leaned toward the Tall Spruce and flutter-
ed her freshly tipped branches daintily,
and whispered something to the Brook as
upon the clear water and the Brook danced
down the hill.
So all the spring and summer the two
Spruce Trees looked at each other, and seat
messages by the birds and squirrels and
called to each other and sighed and yearn-
ed. And ob, that she might come down
the hill to him, and alas! that he might
not climb the hill to her!
It was during the harvest season that a
sadness and foreboding fell upon the two
Spruce Trees, though neither spoke of it to
the other. Some vague danger seemed
marching towards them in the waning
autumn. Ouae night when the birds and
squirrels were in bed and the hunters’
moon shone hig and vellow in the sky, so
that the stars were drowned in its flood of
glory, the Little Spruce Tree could not
sleep. She looked down the kill and saw
the Tall Spruce Tree standing straight and
sombre in the golden light, and it seemed
to her that her heart was breaking with
the nameless sorrow that was hiding there.
She sighed softly to herself and, through
the still night, the Tall Spruce heard the
sound of tears. How he longed to go to
her and comfort her ! He tugged and strain-
ed at the strong roots that held him bound,
and his sturdy limbs trembled and shook
with the struggle, and he groaned with
anguish to find how powerless he was.
When the Little Spruce heard him la-
menting, she dried her tears and whispered
softly lest anyone should overhear, ‘Are
you awake, dear Tree ?"’
And the Tall Spruce whispered back, ‘I
beard you weeping and I could not sleep.
‘What is it troubles you, little one ?’’
‘My heart is heavy with fear,” replied
the Little Spruce Tree. ‘‘Each day as it
passes seems to bring some trouble nearer
and nearer, but Ido not know what it
can be.”
The Tall Spruce was silent for a mo-
ment. Then he said sadly :
‘So you have felt it, too, Little One.
Listen, bave you never heard how years
ago men cane with axes and murdered my
father and carried him away no one knew
where? I was very small then bus I re-
member how he shrieked as he came crash-
ing down to the ground. Lately some-
thing bas told me that I shall perish as my
father did.”
‘Ono! O,n0 1"? cried the Little Spruce.
“You must not go. I cannot stay here
alone. I've grown to love you so, dear
Tree, and though I know we must ever be
separated, that I can never go down the
hill to you nor can you ever come up to
me, it comforts me to look at you down
there so brave and patient. If you go I
shall die.”
‘‘Hush, Little One,’’ whispered the Tall
Spruce. ‘‘Somewhere I have heard that
the God that made us had a Dear Son
whom He sent down here to help mortals.
They did not understand and tock Him
and made a cross of wood and nailed Him
to it and broke His heart with their in-
gratitude.”
‘0, how wicked ! How cruel !"’ said the
Little Spruce.
The Tall Spruce nodded.
“'So it seems to ve, Little One. I do not
understand why it all happened so, but,
because He gave His life as He did, a great
good came to mortals. And now all over
the world men make a feast to celebrate
His birthday. They call it Christmas, and
they decorate their homes with evergreens
and set up a tree as a symbol—and it was
for this that my father perished. Things
are not so hard when one knows the rea-
son, are they, Little One?’ :
But the Little Tree only answered,
“‘Dear Tree, dear Tree, I cannot let you
go!” And she tossed her branches and
moaned all throngh the night.
One by one the leaves fell from the trees
and were whirled into brown drifts by the
cold north wind. The trees stood bare and
leafless against the gray sky and shivered
in the frost,and one night a soft snow came
floating down the hill. When the morn-
ing dawned, clear and calm, with the sky
blue as a turquoise, the branches of the
Little Spruce were sprinkled with a cover-
ing, so white and shining that it looked to
the Tall Spruce like a bridal veil. It was
on that day that they came for him just as
he bad foreseen. He straightened himself
valiantly and breathed a message of cour-
age to the Little Spruce standing, all glis-
tening and shining, but she did not weep,
for she wished to be brave for his sake.
The Tall Spruce shivered as he felt the
first blow of the axe laid to his trunk, and
the Little Spruce hid her eyes. She seem-
ed to feel every blow through her own
slender body. Wielded by the men’s strong
arms the axes dealt stroke after stroke,
steadily, vigorously. Then the men stood
aside and silently, like a wounded warrior,
the Tall Spruce came crashing down.
The Little Spruce opened her eyes at the
sound. There he lay prostrate—her dear
Tree, whostood so tall and straight and
proud. She tossed her branches in sorrow,
and shook off her bridal veil, and moaned
and cried aloud, so that the men looked up
at her and said, ‘‘There must be a high
wind on the top of the hill. See how that
tree up there is waving.”
PART II.
From the ash heap, where he laying dy-
ing, the Tall Spruce could catch a glimpse
of the crest of the hill where he was born.
The ashes were choking him, the hot May
sap was parching him, and his strong heart
was filled with a great yearning for the
cool shadows and the moist rich earth. A
drowsiness and languor were creeping over
him. The tickling of the water overflow-
ing from the iron trough on the corner
seemed to him the laughter of the Brook
among the stones. Half waking, half
sleeping, he dreamed a happy dream.
He thought he was back again on the
hillside, but now he was growing near the
Little Tree that he loved so dearly—so near
that their branches touched and their roots
had intertwined. Then the hillside faded,
he was back among the ashes, but her
branches still mingled with his; her slen-
der trunk lay against him, and her graceful
twigs, now brown and withered like his,
were pressed against his side. Coming to
full consciousness again, his heart gave a
great bound of joy. He was no longer
alone among the dust and ashes, for there
at his side lay the Little Spruce.
For a moment neither spoke. They
clung to each other silently.
*‘They cut me down the next day,’”’ ab
last whispered the Little Spruce. ‘‘Iloved
every blow of the axe! Dear Tree, I re-
membered what you told me, and I tried
to make the children happy. I was loaded
with gifts and shining tinsel, and they
hung oranges and apples to my branches,
and on my twigs they fastened colored
candles that twinkled like stars when they
were lighted, and over me they hung a
little image of an angel with outstretched
wings. I was weary, oh, so weary, with
the burden sometimes !”’
‘‘Poor little slender one!"
Spruce, pityingly.
“I tried not to mind, dear Tree,’’ she
answered. ‘‘I knew you were weary, too.
They kept me in the bouse till I began to
scatter my needles on the carpet, then they
said the Tall
tossed me ont on the rubbish heap. To-
it frolicked by. Then a brown cone fell | day, when they brought me here to die
with you, Dear Tree, everything comes
out right at the last.”’
‘Everything !"” the Tall Spruce an-
swered, '‘if one is only patient.””—By Ruth
Beardsley Stahl, in the Shop Zalk.
He had Fourteen Cents.
For making both ends meet, and a little
money go a long way, it seems that the in-
gepuity of a little 8-year-old boy in Ger-
mantown hclds the record. Many a grown-
up person with a plump purse might take
a lesson from the usefulness of the articles
selected.
The boy found Christmas approaching
with only fourteen cents in his possession.
However, though brought up with care and
every comfort, he had never been used to
handling money; so, undaunted by the
meagre amount, he set out cherrily todo
his Holiday shopping.
He had not waited till he got to the
stores on Germantown road todo his think-
ing, for even his little experience warned
him that he would probably be dazzled by
a lot of tinsel things, squander his savings
and come home unhappy.
So, like a wise: purchaser, be had listed
long beforehand, and been rewarded by
hearing of two ‘‘wants,’’ which came ‘with-
in his means. Mother wanted a new tin
measuring cap. He priced them one day,
and found they could be had for five cents.
Then he heard his aunt say she needed a
new tape measure. This he could buy for
two cents. He stopped in the tin store
half a dozen times to be sure that the
woman was saving the measuring cup; and
about as frequently he dropped into the
trimming store to satisfy himself that the
tape measure wvas still there.
When the day before Christmas finally
came he went out with his little fistfull of
pennies,and if he had kept account of what
he spent this is what it wonld have looked
like:
Mpther, measuring cup.....
Father, pocket notebook....
Brother, two penny lead peacils..
Auntie, tape measure,...............
Girl next door, two candy toys
Grand total................. svserspaseraiins sakeorstirises 14c
All this has been about eleven or twelve
years ago. The boy who made fourteen
cents bring pleasure tosix persons has since
traveled over a greater part of the United
States withont a penny of capital, working
his way from place to place. He is now
seeing the sights of Europe on the same
plan.
——Manager—Weren’t you afraid to
sleep in that haunted room ? Disgusted
Thespian—No ; it was a real comfort to be
in some place wkere the ghost walked.
‘We sang it through together; then he said:
SANTA CLAUS.
I used to waich for Santa Claus
With childish faith sublime,
And listen in the snowy night
To hear his sleigh bells chime.
Beside the door on Christmas Eve
I put a truss of hay
To feed the prancing dancing steeds
That sped him on his way.
I pictured him a jolly man
With beard of frosty white,
And cheeks so fat that when he laughed
They hid his eyes from sight ;
A heart that overflowed with love
For little girls and boys,
And on his back a bulging pack,
Brimful of gorgeous toys.
If children of a larger growth
Could have a Christmas tree
From Father Time, one gift alone
Would be enough for me—
Let others take the gems and gold,
And trifies light and vain,
But give me back my old belief
In Santa Claus again !
— Life.
Shoe-Black Jim.
In a small crowded room in one of the
rear tenement houses of a great city where
the sun’s rays were never known to shine,
or fresh air allowed to penetrate, our little
Jin lay dying.
Months before I one morning saw him
standing on a street corner, with his shoe
box strapped to his back, calling out in
tremulous tones, ‘‘Shine si1?’’ But the
hurrying business men paid little or no at-
tention to the pleading voice or frail form
which was swayed to and fro by the bitter,
biting December wind. Ae I handed him |
a picture paper I asked, ‘‘Are you hungry,
my boy?’’ 1 noticed the pale, pinched
cheeks, and the large brown eyes, fast fill-
ing with tears, as he replied, ‘Yes, miss;
I’ve had nothing to eat since yesterday
morning; but granny is worse than me, for
she’s had nothing but a cold tater since
yesterday.”’
‘And who is granny?”’
‘‘She lives in the rear alley on Mott. Me
own mother died over on the Island, so
granny says, and I guess I never bad any
father.”’
‘‘Did you ever go to Sunday school?’’
‘‘Laws, no, miss; I’ve no time. I has to
stay ’round all day, and then sometimes
gits only a couple of shines. Them fellows |
with the big chairs takes all the profit of us
chaps. Granny says ’tis a hard world.”’
I handed the child a dime and told him
to get a warm cup of coffee and a roll; then
got from him a promise to attend the Band
of Hope meeting that afternoon at 4!
o’clock. I hardly expected to see him |
again, but was happily surprised to see
him walk in, shoe box on his back, while |
we were singing ‘‘Fold me to thy bosom.”
I shall never forget the expression that was
on his face as he stood spell-bonnd in the
middle of the room and stared at meand the
organ. I motioned him to a seat, but he did
not move till the music had ceased and
the other children were all seated.
My lesson that day was about the great
Shepherd that goes out among the hills and |
the mountains of sin and gathers in the |
little lambs that wander away from the
sheep-fold. I did nct know that day that
the dear Savior’s hand had already stretch.
ed out to receive this little lamb that had
many times, young as he was, been found
tipsy and also smoking cigarettes that he
had stolen from somebody’s street stand.
He was a regular attendant at Sunday
school and Band of Hope,and no one joined
more heartily in the singing than Jim.
Opeday in our children’s prayer meet-
ing, he gave his heart to Jesus. No
one could doubt the conversion of that
little heart when they looked into the
bright eyes and beaming face that continu-
ally shone with heavenly light. One day
a messenger came to me in haste and said,
‘Jim is dying. Hurry, please, miss; be
wants to see you again before’ he dies.” I
burried, and as I groped my way along the
dark alley and up the ricketty stairs, I
caught the sound of the sweet voice sing-
ing ‘‘Fold me, fold me, preeious Saviour.”
I entered quietly so as not to disturb the
singer, bust the bright eyes saw me and he
said: ‘Sing it with me once more, teacher.’
‘‘The next time I sing will be when Jesus
folds me in his arms. I’ll never forget the
byinn, but will remember it till yon come
up there, too; then we’ll sing it again.’
And the little lamp of life went out.—
Ex. .
Old Kris in an Automobile.
Kris Kringle up-to-date will whizz about
the city on Christmas eve in a big 40-horse
power automobile. He comes to Phila-
delphia this year under the auspices of a
charitable society named in his honor the
Santa Claus Association. Headquarters
for the good old saint have been secured
by Miss Elizabeth Phillips, president of
the association, at No. 1227 Walnut street,
and here will be received until Christmas
all gifts and contributions sent to the so-
siety.
Toys, pictures, groceries, clothing and all
sorts of articles that will bring gladness to
little children and sick and infirm inmates
of hospitals and asylums are among the
donations requested by the association.
These will be put up in packages and boxes
and sent out just before Christmas to hun-
dreds of little children of the poor whom
the absent-minded old saint would be liable
to forget were his memory not jogged in
this way. The packages will be delivered
by Santa himself in fall regalia and will be
marked simply ‘‘from Santa Clauns.”’
Large boxes will be sent to numerous
hospitals, asylums and homes. Blockley,
in particular, will be remembered gener-
ously.— Philadelphia Record.
Wrapping Christmas Gifts.
There is an art in wrapping Christmas
gifts soas to add to their attractiveness.
Provide yourself with an abundance of
white tissue paper, a package of the inex-
pensive Japanese napkins that come at this
season with the holly borders, then plenty
of red and green bell ribbon, the shape of
holly berries and leaves for tying. Wrap
the package as daintily as possible in a
napkin or the tisue paper, and tie with
white ribbon. Slip into this your visiting
card on the back of which write some of
the sweet Christmas messages of which the
world never grows weary. Wrap again in
tissue paper, tie one way with red ribbon
and the other way with holly green, and
where the ribbons cross insert a sprig of
holly leaves and berries. Little artificial
sprays of holly with berries come as low as
five and ten cents, and may be used instead
of the real where the package has to go
some distance.
Instead of the ribbons for tying, raffia,
red and green was used last year with
charming results, crossed and tied in flat
bows like the ribbon. There are also in the
shops new beautiful eatin ribbons with
holly sprays used in tying gifts.
HERE is one feature of civiliza-
tion which always follows the
flag around the world. That is
the spirit of Christmas. Wher-
ever the 25th of December finds an
American
Santa Claus’ map, though to get there
he may have to shed his furs and
change his reindeers for a team of por-
poises. The seafaring man is senti-
mental to a degree, and no one of his
fellow citizens celebrates the Yuletide
with more enthusiasm than the man
behind the gun.
Lying in cne of Uncle Sam’s navy
yards or auchored in the sheltering
| By H. @. ferrin
| Copyright, 1905. by A. W. Ferrin
; tongue, pickled beets, celery, mashed
warship that place is on | potatoes, green peas, cider, mince pies,
assorted cakes, oranges,
nanas, nuts, raisins,
cigars and cigarettes.
The Texas was at the New York
navy vard, to be sure, but her rela-
tives in the navy who passed the day
in foreign ports probably fared quite
as well, though their crews may have
had to substitute some other bird for
the turkey. The tars of foreign fleets
apples, ba-
candy, coffee,
sen
BATTLESHIP MAINE DECORATED FOR CHRISTMAS.
harbor of some home port, where prox: '
imity to shore insures an abundance
of the usual accessories, Christmas on
board a man-of-war is not essentially |
different from the holiday of the land-
lubber. It is on the foreign stations,
and especially those in tropic seas,
that Jacky has to exercise his well
known ingenuity to create a Christ-
mas atmosphere. On many a battle-
ship and cruiser have bamboos done
duty as Christmas trees, banana leaves
as holly and cacti as table decorations.
Many a Chinese pheasant or other
heathen bird has masqueraded at the
Christmas dinner as a North American
turkey. ;
The navy’s Christmas really begins |
at noon Dec. 24. After that hour dis- |
cipline is relaxed and all hands are |
piped to the work of preparing for
the morrow’s festivities. The sun must
‘not rise on masts or yardarms naked |
of Christmas greens, and all night the |
cook’s galley fires are hot—a special |
concession from the “old man”-—baking |
pies and cakes innumerable.
On Christmas morning the usual rou.
tine is omitted. During the forenoon |
religious services are held on vessels’
on which there are chaplains. Other-
wise the sailor man is left to his own
devices until noon. Then comes the
event of the day—the Christmas din-
rete te oe
I friends.
| ship of the fleet.
welcome an American warship to an
anchorage alongside on Christmas day,
for they know what Yankee hospitality
means. Seldom does a crew of an
American vessel on service beyond the
seas sit down to its Christmas dinner
alone. While he may not be so gen-
erous as to call in the lame, the halt
and the blind, man-o’-war's men from
more than one imperial battleship or
royal cruiser have occasion to remem-
ber witn infinite regret the grub of the
Yankee sailor.
After dinner general leave is grant-
ed and in home ports many of the sail-
ors go ashore to visit relatives and
Most of the men, however,
and on a foreign station practically all,
remain on board for the sports to
which the afternoon is devoted. Row-
ing is the most common feature of
these contests, and where two or more
vessels are gathered together there are
highly exciting races for the champion-
On deck, boxing,
wrestling and fencing vie for favor
with sack races, three legged races and
athletic games which involve quick
work in going aloft and getting down
again. I‘requently the programme
ends with a pie eating contest, which
never loses popularity with either par-
ticipants or spectators. With their
hands tied behind them, the pie eaters
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ALTEEETEESS
JACKIES PREPARING THE CHRISTMAS DINNER.
£3
ner. Uncle Sam feeds his seagoing
servants pretty well at all times, but
at Christinas lie spreads himself. Be-
sides, the jackies generally have a few
gold pieces saved up to put on the
finishing touches, and the committee on
comestibles is kept busy for days be-
fore the festival hunting all kinds of
delicacies to their lairs. The result is’;
a dinner which would make any man’s
mouth water on sea or land. One year :
on the Texas, for example, the menu |
of the forecastle Christmas feast con-
sisted of oyster soup, roast turkey |
and cranberry sauce, boiled cold
kneel around a table, a pie in front of
each face. The man who can get away
with his pastry in the shortest time,
using teeth and lips only, wins a prize
of some sort, while the losers have the
consolation of having had an extra
pie.
At som» time during the day the cap-
tain of “he ship is likely to find him-
gelf confronted with a deputation of
men representing those who have by
{nfracticns of discipline incurred de-
merit marks, carrying a pail of slacked
lime and water and a whitewash
brush, mutely pleading that their sins
be washed out in honor of the day. The
plea is usually effective.
The distribution of Christmas mail,
following the athletic programme,
takes the place of the distribution of
gifts at home. The farther from
“God's country” the ship happens to
be the greater the interest ip this cere-
mony. Much of the mai! may have
been posted by dear ones at home
many weeks before Christmas, but the
letters and packages bear the insecrip-
tion. “Not to be opened before Christ-
mas.” and the officers see that the in-
junction is not disregarded. Often the
seals of sacks known te contain Christ-
mas mai! are not broken until the time
comes for its distribution, that the re-
cipient may derive the greater pleasure
from their treasures by enjoying them
n common.
The officers have their dinner in the
evening. The day has very likely been
a lonesome one in the wardroom, for
if the ship is on a home station all the
officers who can get away and who
have families spend the day ashore.
At night, however, they return, bring-
ing their “sweethearts and wives” with
them. The naval regulations, ordi-
narily ignoring the very existence of
women, permits them to dine aboard
ship on Christmas day, and few “navy
women” fail to take advantage of such
a privilege. A good part of every offi-
cer’'s December pay is exhausted in
the interests of Yuletide cheer and no
guest has ever hesitated to pronounce
the wardroom’s Christmas banquet an
unqualified success. Still, it sometimes
happens that the enlisted men have
a better dinner than their superiors,
for the able seaman is an early bird,
and where supplies are limited he may
corner the market before his officers
know what has happened. The crew
of a man-of-war on fhe Asiatic sta-
tion some years ago bought up all the
turkeys in IDongkong and Canton and
the officers of the ship would have been
put to it to find a substitute had not
the sailors taken pity on them and
given up some of their spoils.
The day’s celebration ends with a
concert by. the ship’s band or a min-
stre] show, with sailors and marines
in burnt cork performing all manner
of “stunts” and cracking many an ex-
cellent joke at the expense of the offi-
cers, who always take the jests in
good part. International complications
furnish plenty of themes for clever
witticisms and sketches, in which the
men often show much dramatic abil-
GIFTS FOR THE MAN BEHIND THE GUN.
ity. Last year the Panama incident
was very creditably “worked up” on
one battleship. This year the Russian
and the Jap will have to take their
turns as targets for the minstrels’
merry quips.
“The Star Spangled Banner,” the
marine amen, puts the official benedic-
tion on the celebration, and, with
“taps” sounding in their ears, officers
and men curl up if their bunks and
hammocks to dream of thei® maternal
grandmothers and the other specters
which plum pudding evokes.
Mistletoe.
—Hang it up.
—Get kissed under it.
—PForget that it’s parasitie.
—Think what a past it has.
—The Druids regarded it with awe.
—Found upon an oak, it with supersti-
tiously regarded.
—It was considered as sacred to sylvan
deities of old.
—To deck a house with it was to invite
the sylvan spirits.
—This interesting plant is known to
botanists as the ‘‘viscum album.”
—-The Greeks bad great veneration for it
because of its medical powers.
—Its white berries are close in the leaf
axiles and are translucent. °
—Its glutinous fruit develops from littie
paie blossoms.
—It grows in the Southland and pene-
trates as far as Indiana.
—Its narrow, crisp, thick foliage lends
itself admirably to jewelry designs.
—Miss Bird doesn’t wait to be kissed
under it. She prudently gulps down its
berries and wings her way to ‘‘next.”’
——*‘‘Do you owe Bilker money ?'’
2 “No.2!
‘Why do you avoid meeting him ?”’
‘Don’t want him to owe me money.”
——Mr. Gusher—Darling! You refuse
me a kiss ? Has not my avowal the ring of
true love about it ? Miss Cute—Yes, dear,
but my finger hasn’t.