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Show Too Much to Imagine. One evening Smith Jitneyed to the suburbs to call on his friend Jones, and while they were sitting on the veranda enjoying their after-dinner ragweed, large volumes of music broke loose In the adjacent bungalow "'Some music," commented Smith, glancing through the fireflies In the scenery beyond. "Who might the per former be?" "It is my neighbor. Green," an swered Jones. "And would you believe be-lieve that he plays by car alone?" "I would not," was the prompt re joinder of Smith. "I can easily iro agine that he might make that mud. noise by using both hands and feet and an ax, Jut you can't make me be lieve that he does It by banging the side of his head on the keys." |