had her's made to
wear with guimpes--and they are so economical! and--"

Think of a guy having to ride four miles and get his forehead fanned all
the while with talk about foulard and crepe de chine and guimpes!

Wouldn't it lead you to a padded cell?

Say! I was down and out--no kidding!

I wanted to get up and fight the door-tender, but I couldn't.

One of the conversationalists was sitting on my overcoat.

I felt that if I got up and called my coat back to Papa she might lose
the thread of her story, and the jar would be something frightful.

So I sat still and saved her life.

The one on my right must have been the Lady President of The Hammer
Club.

She was talking about some other girl and she didn't do a thing to the
absent one.

She said she was svelte.

I suppose that's Dago for a shine.

That's the way with some women. They can't come right out and call
another woman a polish. They have to beat around the bush and chase
their friends to the swamps by throwing things like "svelte" at them.
Tush!

I tried to duck the foreign tattle on my right and by so doing I'm next
to this on my left:

"Oh, yes; I think politics is just too lovely! I don't know whether I'd
rather be a Democrat or a Republican, but I think--oh! just look at the
hat that woman has on! Isn't that a fright? Wonder if she trimmed it
herself. Of course she did; you can tell by--"

I'm gasping for breath when the broad lady across the aisle gets the
floor:

"No, indeed! I didn't have Eliza vaccinated. Why, she's too small yet,
and don't you know my sister's husband's brother's child was vaccinated,
and she is younger than our Eliza, but I don't just care, I don't
want--"

Then the sweet girlish thing on my left gave me the corkscrew jab.

It was the finish:

"Isn't that lovely? Well, as I was telling you, Charlie came last night
and brought Mr. Storeclose with him. Mr. Storeclose is awfully nice. He
plays the mandolin just too sweet for anything, and--"

Me!--to the oyster beds! No male impersonators garroting a mandolin--not
any in mine!

When I want to take a course in music I'll climb into a public library
and read how Baldy Sloane wrote the Tiger Lily with one hand tied behind
him and his feet on the piano.

So I fell off the car and crawled home to mother.

THE MUSKEETER

BY JOSH BILLINGS

Muskeeters are a game bug, but they won't bite at a hook. Thare iz
millyuns ov them kaught every year, but not wi