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NOW, THE TRUTH! -
- "Yes, Mrs. Bane," chattered the
hostess over the luncheon table; "I
am an excellent reader of faces. Per
haps it is not fair, but I always go by
first impressions, and form my own
opinion of a person's character."
"Not always safe," smiled Mrs.
"But, do you know, I find I am
never wrong," answered her friend.
"Mamma!" piped a shrill little
voice from the end of the table.
:x "Well, my son," said the mother
indulgently, "what is it? He Is so
intelligent !" she murmured to her
"Mamma," came the insistent little
voice, "I wonder what your opinion
was when you first saw me?"
First Club'man Why do you allow
your wife to be a militant suffraget?
Second Clubman When she's busy
wrecking things outside we have
comparative peace at home.
YOU ARE HOPPLFSS. ADOLP
Ut? mND ISS IH DER- DECEMBER.
-OP US TWILIGHT.
HIS FINAL STRAW
Holidays, tourists, and trippers ga
lore had upset the peace of mind cl
the railway officials, and to cope with
the additional traffic a strange guard
was put on a special train running on
a wayside line in Wales.
There was one particular station
rejoicing in the euphonious name of
L 1 anfairfechanpwllgyngyllgogerych,
etc., etc., and in the due course of its
peregrinations, the special train ar
rived at it, plus the strange guard.
For quite a time the guard stood
glancing at the appalling name. First
he spelled it out letter by letter, whilst
the engineer sounded a gay tattoo on
his whistle. Then, by taking deep
breaths, and holding his jaws in his
hands, the guard feebly attempted
the desperate feat of pronunciation.
But he was.a man of resource, not
easily to be done. Suddenly he con
ceived a brilliant idea. Taking up
an attitude of great dramatic sugges
tion, he pointed to the board. Th-,. l
he bellowed, in stentorian tones:
"If there's anybody there for here,
this is it!"
And the train glided slowly on
wards. BANG WENT SIXPENCE
John was in love. Moreover, he
was terribly shy. At last he could
stand the suspense of courtship no
longer, and, after mature delibera
tion, decided to telegraph a proposal
to his lady-love.
All day long he hung around ti-3
small postoffice, but no telegram
came in reply. Still the persevering
Scot hung on. Eventually he was re
warded with an answer in the affirm
ative from the lady of his choice.
"If I were you, John," suggested
the old postmaster, as he handed him
the wire, "I should think, twice o'
marrying a lass that kept ye.waitir. J
a whole day for an answer."
"Na, na!" retorted the canny
Highlander. "The lass who waits for
the night rates is the lass for me!"