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Show HAPPENINGS OVER TOWN The Russian steppes are slippery, so It must be 95 below, in Russia. If you got a bad cold, take if back and get a good one. The little subs no longer shoot; They'll have to get a sub-stitute. Speaking of the flu., did you comply with the fire ordinance. Some tremble with fear of the flu; And others, they sniffle and sneeze; Forget it, and then, just take up your pen And drop us a line, if you please. If stumpspeaking and the clarion voice were the order of the day, as of old, some of oi r politicians would be rendered hoarse de combat! When she wears her mask, the little saint, Why, there's no use for powder or paint. "How do you make such good sausage?" sau-sage?" said a customer to Fred Jefferson Jeff-erson the other day. '"Oh," said the rosy one, "that's easy. You see a fellow gave me a pointer." 'Twill soon be time for wintry wind; For street and sidewalk slushy wet; 'Twill soon be time to vote again; Then Ho! and Hail! you suffragette! Charley Hollis can talk about deep wells in a basso and never miss a stroke. He has an idea of his own which would put old man Neptune out of the running on a rainy day, and he intends giving it a practical test just as soon as Geyser Bill stops belching "Ich" and "Gott." Miss Keener, en mask, was interviewing inter-viewing her class. "Don't you know," she said, "newspaper English isn't tire .best?" "a newspaper man has a peculiar style and " Here one of the students interjected, "Yes, he is peculiar, because his tale comes out of his head." Bill Cochran was in with a gingerbread gin-gerbread s venter on Tuedav. Bill can skirl the pir.fiz to the queer's taste, and would make a fine tei'n-niate tei'n-niate for E.iriy Lauder. His 0:13 fault is smolr.rg a Wellington' of the 1S9S vintage. We wouldn't mind !t f,o much if he didn't announce it's presence odorously. Smoke up, Bill that's one on us. A Belgian lad leading a dog down a country road, came upon a Prussian Prus-sian officer. The officer very pompously pomp-ously said, "Well, my boy, I suppose you call him Albert." '"No," said the youth, "I think too much of my king." "Then," said the officer, "it may be you call him Wilhelm." "No." returned the boy, "I think too much ofi my dog." We took Sonny Quirk out hunting hunt-ing the other day, and tramped him 5 or 6 m6iles' by our wrist-meter. At the end of the first mile, Sonny said, "Mamma told me not to say I was tired when I felt tired. I'm tired now, but I won't say anj'thing about it." Talk about diplomacy. That boy could beat the German chancellor playing checkers. Joe Fleming was born in York State and can twist a conversation into a yankee knot like a dory fisherman fish-erman off, the Maine coast. Joe's as superstitious as an Alabama cotton cot-ton picker and he has dreams that come true. Ask him why he left his upper lip sprout again and he'll tell you about the phantom of Fay-esbury. Fay-esbury. a cross-roads settlement in the heart of the Empire state. Miss Nutter teaches bi-ology in High School and spends her leisure knitting natty needfuls for 'Well, every girl has a hero either in camp or across the deep blue. This little lady can purl like the brook that goes on forever, and do it with delight, never missing a stitch while engaged in pleasant conversation. The fire place of the Milford is an ideal spot for biology, by-play and bi-tuminous. Sanc'y Russell said that we cheated cheat-ed him out of an heiress. He had her slated for future provender, but since she discovered that he was a gay deceiver, de-ceiver, through our revelation of list week, she's hunting frtr some fair Romeo with a luxurious thatch. Sorry, Sor-ry, Sandy, but we lost an heiress ourselves our-selves when the toupee got cranky and slipped a sticker. A fly and a flee in a flu, Were imprisoned, so what could they do? Said the fly to the flee, "Let us fly." Said the flee to the fly, "Let us flee." So they flew thru a flaw in the flu.". Bishop Burns has a smile that would make, a Baptist preacher look like a sheaf of sunshine. It's as radiant radi-ant as a summer day 'without a cloud on the horizon, and as contagious as good cheer at a house party. We like smiles and are especially fond or the Bishop's. Give us the recipe, good friend, for we are in dire need of outward sunshine, inward joy. We. like Harry Martin, but we can't refrain from telling this one. Several years ago, he and several friends started out the county road. At the track, the machine plunged, headlong into a sign post. After Harry had rubbed a yard, of dirt out of his eyes, a friend said, "Couldn't you see that sign post?" "Yes," drawled the be-whiskered be-whiskered one, "it says look out for the cars, but it don't say anything about lookin' out for the post." Pratt Root of the Salt Lake Route has more local- history pigeon-holed in his memory than any other young fellow we've met here. That story of his about meeting a ghost down near the state line would make every ev-ery hair stand on end like quills upon the fretful porcupine. If ghost stories make hair stand, or even peep through the epidermis; we'd listen to 'em 24 hours a day. Ed. Peterson knows a fellow in Salt Lake who sells the weed. A smart chap with tortoise-rimmed glasses and a cane sauntered in one morning and said, "I should like a good 1 'bigar. 3ir" II lit It, p,uffed a few times and, with a sour look,, threw it away. "It's rotten," he said. "Well, you hadn't ought to kick," replied the salesman. "You got only one, but I got a whole case full." Doc. Swanson wrote someone in town a letter. We don't know what was said except that he was due for a sea-voyage, and had learned the meaning of Bolshevik, which is Russian Rus-sian for "hell poppin' ". We're not going to raise a carbuncle on our disposition dis-position because. Doc. ignored us; but we're sorry he'll be able to jibber jib-ber a lingo that we can never understand. under-stand. Good stuff for prescriptions, and we know a druggist who'll have to stay up nights getting the wrinkle Slavonian. We've been trying to tantalize Harry Martin, but it's like tickling a fat friar with a feather. Speaking of beards again, and we"'re about ready to shear that subject, we met V. Waddoups last evening with as fine a bunch of bristles as ever graced the face of Adam , in his youth. They looked like the needles on the cylinder cylin-der of an old-fashioned music box and the wind blew "Annie Laurie" through them. Betwee'n Baby Hanks and Billy, the lobby of the Milford has a ly-ceum ly-ceum faded for amusement. Bill's a two-yet.r-old who chirps like a song sparrow at the first blush of spring. The baby crows and coos and flails her dimpling arms with supreme delight. It would take a graduate of five universities with forty titles to interpret the conversation, conver-sation, but we know it means glad, and we sort of covet those kisses that the ladies get. ' Charley Decker's reading Bills Baxters Bax-ters with the interest of a boy in Aladin's wonderful lamp. Billy makes George Ade look like a pair of overalls over-alls at a dress ball, when it comes to making the English language turn over, sit up and bark. We don't know why Charley's so fond of this Baxter man, but we pssunie it's because he could analyze a woman from "Mir pins to breakfast slippers. And we never saw an old bachelor that didn't, chuckle with smug joy when ho r.,:w his friend's wife listed in the blue book of revelations that had all her faults and follies tabulated with precision. pre-cision. At that. Charley may somf. jday be doing a prison strut to the ialtar. All together now Kerchoo! Miss Sims looks like a page out of Gotham's fashion book. Leer your port side observation lens her way some sunny morning, just after breakfast of buns and mush. That natty blue cloak and crash hat of corresponding color would make a cloak model in Madam Perri's look like Cinderella before she tripped a measure with the prince. . We're for good clothes and neat clothes, but a suit of sea-blue overalls will have to do until the Kaiser orders his asbestos suit. Harry Korns wears a sweater that looks like the last rose of summer with a faded complexioVi. I saw Harry working like a typesetting machine an hour before press, the nibbled end of a briar stuck in the starboard side of his mouth. He had the Bible open at the sermon on the Mount. "What's that," I said, horning in . "The prints of peace," said he with a leer in his eye that meant, goodbye, I'm busy. I got this one twenty minutes afterward after-ward while I was imbibing a cherry phosphate at Doc. Brooks' "sizz dispensary. dis-pensary. Roy VanWormer moved the other day. The doorway to the new location was being altered. A cluster of idle on-lookers watched the busy men for an hour and, when the job was finished, fin-ished, went their-several ways. If the potentiol energy wasted there were, used in fixing up the county highway, the work wouldn't require two full hours, new time. , Sam Runswick says that, he never pulled the stopper out of a perfume bottle. He uses an atomizer. That's all right, Sam, you said you, didn't want the flowers after they tucked you under the terra, so you're getting a spray while you're living. , They're fixing up the county road right where it bends into Main street. . We hate to see this because there was so much pleasure riding en tour from Milford to Beaver when one had all the pleasures of an ocean voyage without getting seasick. sea-sick. Those undulations were just long enough to make it billowy, an" the grenn pastures on either sir1'-gave sir1'-gave it a regular sea stage setting. Now we'll have to buy a ticket for the California beaches if we .want any of the briny effect; and since' the government took over the railroads, rail-roads, it means digging deeper for the long green to get the sea green Anyway, that "wouldn't it jar you" stuff it off the boards when one goes spinning along the country highway toward the rising sun. Maud Hortori came over from SpringviHe last summer and evidently evi-dently introduced the white-stocking fad, for there's been an epidemic epidem-ic of snowy hosiery ever since she scrawled her "name on the' hotel blotter. We have a natural aversion aver-sion to white stockings because they make the arms' look too big; and when the wind and the dust affectionately affec-tionately embrace. each other, it's adios for the laundry . There are no personal reflections .' in the "following "fol-lowing lines, but we can't refrain from setting them down. Her stockings were immaculate, One week ago; Of silken fabric, strong and fine. And white as snow; But, since she . wore them seven days, Alas! Alack! When I saw them today, I thought That they were black. Our political . frienSs who do not want to figure in the list of missing when the battle's over, are around with the glad hand and the smile that passeth all understanding. We know that .smile like our first reader and melt like snow when it beams on us like a January sun. Here's one that strikes us as giv-j giv-j ing the true situation of the election elec-tion period. i The festive politician's .round, And has his ear upon the ground. He smiles a smile supremely fair. ; Then grips your hand and holds it ; there. J He tells you with a burst of pride. As if he Were electrified. That should he win the pesky race. He'll prove the best man for the 1 place. .... I We listen and we grin and say. That we're for him election day; Fut. on that day. as sure as fate. We help the other candidate. |
