OCR Interpretation

The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, October 06, 1913, Image 17

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

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1913-10-06/ed-1/seq-17/

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jc Mrs. Crump looked at her friend,
, J&rs. Binks, and sighed as her hus-
T?and went out of the room.
H' "Ah, my dear, It's a sad thing to
eee my old man losing his hair that
way as none knows better what it is
TrH'than yBurself, Mrs. Binks!"
"You speak truly, Mrs. Crump; sad
44t is. After my George had his illness
in the spring, his hair fairly moulted
off of him, and now his head's smooth
as smooth!" '
"It must be uncomfortable, what
with flies and things, not to speak of
cold, Mrs. .BInks."
"Well, do you know it's not the
flies that worry him so much, nor yet
the cold. It's -having to wear his hat
in the bedroom when he washes him-
elf, as you'll find out with your good-
man. You see, not saving any hair
to go by now, he can t tell when he's
finished washing his face unless' he
keeps nis hat onl That's the bother
of it" , ' ,
Thin, angular- and spinsterish,
Miss Miggs strode through the streets
of the little village tounding up the
housewives to come to tonight's
meeting of the "Hopeful Society" oa
"How Husbands Should Be Fed."
The little hall was fairly full by 8
o'clock when Miss Miggs, with her
elect committee of old maids, pranc
ed on to the platform and began her
Not much inspiration was to be
gained from the audience.
A little human touch is what ia
needed, thought Miss Miggs to her
self, to enliven the proceedings.
Putting on her best imitation of a
smile, she advanced to the front of
the platform.
"So many of you women," she
started, "are not sympathetic enough
with your husbands. "Now," she sim
pered, "if I had a husband, and ha
came home er late, I should not
rave at him, but simply go and' kiss
"And serve the brute right!" yelled
a retreating form at the back of the
By Berton Braley.
Gamblers all the great the small,
Playing low or high, ,
Gamblers from the day of birth '
To the time we die,
Never 'ceasing, son or late, V .
Gambling in the game of Fate.
Gamblers all, we rise or fall
By the game we play.
He who is the winner now
Lost on yesterday.
Luck's against you? Never sorrow.
Play your best and win tomorrow
Gamblers all, in Fortune's thrall,
Play the game we must
Make our bluff and bet our hand,
Take the rest on trust
Though we lose or make a haul,
.Gamblers.are we-Totte.jmdJaIL- ,
-- v jyii4.W-i---W'i.li

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