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A BAN ON THE KISS
On the basis of a Huntington,
W. Va., dispatch describing Dr. E. W.
Grover's recommendation of the
"pat-pat" as a substitute for the un
hygienic kiss, Puck submits a few
modifications of current literature
to suit, as follow:
He planted a passionate pat-pat
upon her upturned cheek.
Gwendolyn stood demurely under
the mistletoe and in another instant
Clarence had deftly pat-patted her.
"How dare you pat-pat me, sir!"
"It is useless for you to struggle,
my proud beauty!" he hissed.
Seizing her roughly, Dalton pushed
the glorious head back, back, back,
and leered into the frightened eyes.
"I am going to pat-pat you; do you
near, girl? To pat-pat you!" he
"And now, gentlemen," said Ter
ence, our guide, "would any o' yez
loike to pat-pat the Blarney Stone?"
MIGHT NEED THEM
"After de sarmint, t'mor" night,
Brudder Simmons," said old Deacon
Whang, "we-all is gwine to have a
rousin' hozanner meetin and burn
up yo' paragraphs, bless de Lawd!"
"Burn up which, sah?" returned
Goat Simmons, the recently convert
ed gambling man.
"Yo ' gamblin' paragraphs, sah.
When a spo'tin' man "gits converted
and washed whiter dan snow, dey al
ius burns up his kyards and dice and
sich scan'lous stuff as dat, midst loud
shouts o praise. De Lawd is wid
'em, and de gamblin' brudder steps
fo'th and flings his paragraphs on
de fiah and stands with bowed head
"Not me, sah! I ain't gwine to do
no such-uh thing!"
. "But, muh goodness, brudder, yo
am converted, isn't yo, and "
"Yisahr! T's ?ho' converted bu
dat dpn't make me a blame fool! I
mought backslide and ned dat stuff!"
Recently Geo. Fbran, the Brook
lyn political leader fell and sprained
his ankle. Upon his return to his
desk, business was piled high. An.
impatient caller who had waited an
hour at length demanded of the of
fice boy how long it would be before
Foran could see him.
"He hasn't returned from luncb,
yet," came the reply.
"Why," exclaimed the caller, "you
said he was in."
"He said he was always in to you,
sir," replied the boy.
She was buying some Christmag
cigars for her husband, and the deal
er sold her a box for forty cents.
"Her husband will give you fits
when he gets those," said a bystand
er to the cigar man.
"Oh, no, he won't" said the dealer
placidly. "He told me to sell her
those. His wife would divorce him
if she knew he paid five dollars a box
for his cigars." Ladies' Home Journal.
He Money talks.
She Yes, and it stops talk. .
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