Puslapio vaizdai
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THE GREEN GOURD

De green gou'd on de sunny shed
Was mighty proud of his pethy head,
So he nuver pondered or studied or trained,
An' now he 's ole an' rattle-brained.

An' he ain't by 'isself in dat, in dat-
An' he ain't by 'isself in dat.

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TOO FAMILIAR

De cantelope gits mighty bilious
From runnin' wid punkins too familias,
So it 's banished out for its sociable sin
Along wid its yaller kitchen kin.

An' it ain't by itself in dat, in dat-
An' it ain't by itself in dat.

WAA

TRIED BY FIRE

Drawn by Walt. Kuhn

De sugar-cane stands so proud an' smart,
You 'd nuver suspicion it sweet at de heart,
But to prove its sweets it yields its will
To be tried by fire an' ground in de mill.

An' it ain't by itself in dat, in dat-
An' it ain't by itself in dat.

PROGRESS IN MEDICINE Dr. Crow: I emphatically pronounce your ailment appendicitis-we used to call it the pip.

THE PRONUNCIATION OF

SAINT QUEN

TO PARADOCIA

BY WALTER BAILEY APTHORPE

BY GWILYM GRIFFITH

Fickle, faithless; trusty, true,

There was never one like you! Fickle when the game is gay,

Trusty in the needy day; Lily-fair and lily-frail;

Dauntless when the mountains quail; Heart of oak and heart of snow

There was never any so! Heart of oak against the blast,

Heart of snow when storm is past, Quick to melt in gentle tears

When love's sunshine once appears; Tigress-cruel, angel-mild;

Sage and sibyl, little child; Thunder-bold and soft as dew

There was never one like you!

A story is told of a thrifty American woman in Dresden who, on being presented at court, received the compliment from the Queen of Saxony of being addressed in English. She made the mistake of responding in German, and, on being upbraided by friends for this faux pas, said very calmly, "I never lose any opportunity to improve ray German."

The same frame of mind actuated an American lady, whom we will call Mrs. C— with whom we were fellow-members of Madame F--'s pension near the Arc de l'Etoile, in Paris. She was bent on acquiring knowledge at all hazards, and as she had come to the pension to learn French, she was very impatient with those of us who for rest and refreshment occasionally lapsed into our mother-tongue. After a while this foible, at first a subject of good-natured remark, became a considerable bore to the rest of us. Mrs. C— was constantly airing her newly acquired knowledge, and as she was somewhat in advance of the other boarders, it was sometimes rather exasperating.

During the period of greatest tension it chanced that Mr. X- and his wife were invited to an evening company at which they met the savant M. Bruntière, member of the French Academy, whom they already knew. In the course of conversation he asked them what part of France they had seen besides Paris, and they spoke of Rouen. "Ah,” he said, "what noble churches they have!" "Yes,” replied Mr. X—; adding that he had very much enjoyed the cathedral, but that, on the whole, he preferred the beauty of the church of St. Ouen, pronouncing the word to rhyme with Rouen itself.

STROLLER'S SONG

BY LEE WILSON DODD

Open your heart to me; I will not wait
Forever at the gate.
I do not tarry at unwelcoming doors.
Open your heart, and I will sing,
Within its hushed and somber-pallid walls,
Where never a lusty, dusty footstep falls,
Such buxom caroling,
So richly phrased, so buoyantly elate,
As the vibrant veery pours
Unto its mate.
Let me but leap within on ringing heel,
Throw wide love's casement to the

unshuttered day,
And bear your nun-like soul away,
Till it has learned not how to pray,
But how to feel!

mean

in that way.

M. Bruntière said: “I dare say you are

“St. Ouin." right. I remember it with great pleasure. "Do you not mean St. Quen?” But I hope you will permit me to tell you "Oh, no; I mean St. Ouin.” that the name of the church is pronounced “But there cannot be two churches in not 'St. Ouen,' but to rhyme with 'vin,' and," Rouen with such similar names. he repeated, “as if it were spelled 'St. Ouin.'' “Oh, no, there is only one prominent "That is odd,” said Mr. X

church that could be called a rival to the “Yes,” was the reply; "but it is not cathedral, and that is St. Quin." merely a localism. Every cultivated French “Oh, but, my dear Mrs. X— you person pronounces it with the Aat sound.” certainly do not to pronounce it Mr. X2 thanked the savant for setting

You certainly mean St. him right and promised never to make that Quen.” error again.

“Not at all, my dear Mrs. C—; I am On his way home it occurred to Mr. speaking of St. Ouin." X— that here was an opportunity to be "It is spelled like Rouen; is it not so proof use to his fellow-sufferers at the pension. nounced?" Relying upon the fact that his hostess was a "Oh, not at all, not at all; that would lady of very charming speech and cultiva- never do; that would be a solecism of the tion, he arranged, with a little malice,- most pronounced sort." in the circumstances not, perhaps, to be too “But I think you must be mistaken, my severely condemned,-a trap for his exacting dear Mrs. Xand punctilious countrywoman.

"I think not, Mrs. C— No cultivated The next night at dinner the conversation person would pronounce it with the broad was adroitly brought about to the subject of sound. Let us ask Madame.” French church architecture, and Mrs. X

Madame, having her attention diverted took occasion to ask Mrs. C— whether from her intimate duties as hostess, and the she had ever been in Rouen. It seems she attention of the whole table being now conhad, and she was enthusiastic over the ca- centrated upon the subject, was confidently thedral. Whereupon Mrs. X— remarked appealed to by Mrs. C- Of course she her preference for the architecture of St. sided with the French Academy; and for Ouen, giving it the correct and, as far as once new-found knowledge was confounded we were concerned, the latest pronunciation. by new-found knowledge. After that we "What church did you say?" said Mrs. had no further annoyance from the humble

Mrs. C

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A PALPABLE HIT
SPORTSMAN: Oh, dear me ! I assure you, I did n't mean to hit your cow.
Farmer: Well, young man, I'm mighty glad 't was n't me you did n't mean to hit.

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"SHE MUST N'T SEE YOU IN THAT SUIT, IF WE HAVE TO SWIM A

THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK

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FROM THE PAINTING BY RODERT BLUM IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART

(111: CINTURY'S AMERICAN ARTINI SKIRS)

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