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The day book. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, December 24, 1913, LAST EDITION, Image 17

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

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1913-12-24/ed-1/seq-17/

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HE LOST OUT
f On the occasion of a mayoral ban
quet m a small provincial town, one
of the last guests to leave went to
the cloakroom forhis coat and hat.
He couldn't help noticing the woebe
gone look on the attendant's face.
The poor man appeared worried and
sad, and every little while he sighed
and muttered to himself.
"You seem upset," remarked the
guest, sympathetically.
"I am upset, sir," said the attend
ant.
"What is the trouble? Haven't the
guests tipped you well tonight?"
The attendant answered'in an ex
cited voice:
"It's not" only, sir, that they
haven't tipped me, but they've taken
'the half dollar that I put in the tray
"1 1 for a decoy."
o o
Old Santa Claus will have a time
getting around down in Old Mexico
this year.
TAKEN AT HIS WORD
A station master in North Wales,
who is not noted for his affability,
while examining tickets, came across
a cattle dealer who held a season
ticket.
He ordered him, in a not very po
lite manner, to produce the ticket,
adding in a severe tone:
. "Mind, I want to see it every time
you stop at this station."
A few days later, as the early
morning mail drew up at the plat
form at 3 a. m., a passenger accosted
the solitary porter on duty, and ask
ed him for the station master.
"He is in bed, sir," replied the
porter.
"Tell him I want him," said the
passenger.
The porter at once declined to
carry the message, but on being told
that it was the station master's own
wish he disappeared, and returned,
followed by the station master, who
was growling at being brought out
of bed in the cold.
He was confronted by his old
friend, the cattle dealer, who handed
him his season ticket, politely asking
him to examine it, and at the same
time reminding him that he had a
few days before expressed a wish to
see it "every time he stopped at the
station."
o o -
HE WAS WHISTLER
Whistler, the artist, was once
walking through a field,- when sud
denly he found that a huge bull was
making straight towards him. He
ran as he had never run before. When
he reached the other side of the fence
he saw a farmer, the owner of the
field, coolly watching the proceed
ings. Mr. Whistler was furious, and
shaking his fist at the farmer, said:
"What do you mean, sir, by letting
a savage bull like that roam at large?
Do you know who I am, sir? I'm
Whistler."
"Are you?" replied the farmer.
"Then what's the .good of telling met
Why didn't you tell the bull?"

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