OCR Interpretation


The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, July 19, 1913, NOON EDITION, Image 17

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1913-07-19/ed-1/seq-17/

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UNJUST CRITICISM
A storm ws brewing in Bill Jones'
"back yard.
"It's too much of a good thing,
-Liz," he yelled. "I've told you be-
I won't have the kids brinein'
the coals. from the shed in my best
ihat! Wot would you say, I'd like ter
'know?'
I With arms akimbo, his better-half
sauntered into the cabbage patch.
. "Look here, Bill," she said coldly,
''stop chinning a minit. You've spoilt
the shape of that there hat already
with your funny head; and, as yer
york coal all day long at the wharf,
Jsvhat does that little extra bit of
Must in yer hat matter? Yer wants
somethin' ter talk about!"
- " 'Taint really the dust I object to.
But I wears that hat of evenings," re-
'Bponded the infuriated one, "and, if
l-takes it off me head when I'm out.
fJt leaves a black band round me fore-
Af washing me face with me hat on!''
NOT HER FAULT
Of cpurse, the dealer was to blam".
At any rate, that's what the buyer,
in common with many another buyer
of horses, though. The mare in ques
tion, he declared, had been sold to
him as being sound in wind and limb
without a fault, in fact.
Without a fault indeed! Why, the
poor beast so the outraged buyer
now discovered, to his sorrow was
blind in one eye and could see with
the other only very indistinctly, if at
alL
Accordingly, he wrote in righteous
indignation to the dealer, passing
heavy judgment on his business
methods and his honesty.
Many such letters had the dealer
received during his career; but this
one was, to him, so quite delightful
and ingenuous that he deigned to
answer it
"My dear sir," he wrote, "you seem
to blame me for the mare's- blindness
This is most unjust The fault is net
mine nor, indeed, is it hers. On ti J
contrary, blindness is, and always
has been, her great misfortune."
o o
UTTERLY CRUSHED
It was a warm, radiant summer
morning; the birds were singing
sweetly, the flowers and dewy grass
shimmered in the sparkling sunlight;
and there, in the park Robert Peel
er a very junior officer was doins
his utmost to make a favorable im
pression on the pretty nursemai
whilst the latter's small charge busily
chased elusive butterflies.
"Ah," sighed the dashing Robert,
"I wish you were my governess!"
"So do I," replied .the girl.
. Hope sprang into Robert's heart
"And what would you do with
me?" he asked.
"Stop you smoking cigarettes, and
get your hair cut to say nothing or
punishing you for talking nonsense
during school hours!"
Then Robert ponderously contia-
Lued his beat .

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