Page Thirty-one 



\A'hen the coiuluctor roturnocl, however, the ticket was still missing. 



"Well, time enough. I'll be along again after we pass the next 

 station," he said cheerfully. 



But the ticket had not yet been found when the conductor made his 

 third appearance. 



"You haven't found it yet? Well, I'll stop again after the next 

 station. It's alright." 



But the member of our scientific staff was by this time greatly 

 disturbed. 



"It isn't alright," he said in a worried tone. "We've passed several 

 stations alread}', and I want to find the ticket so as to see where I'm 

 going." 



Now If Only They Were on The Square! 

 Jack: "How do these love triangles usually end?" 

 Bill: "Most of them turn into wreck-tangles." 



"My pigmy counterpart," the poet wrote 

 Of his dear child, the darling of his heart; 

 Then longed to clutch the printer by the throat, 

 Who set it up: "My pig, my counterpart." 



According to Mr. Operti, the Columbus Avenue trolley line is issuing 

 clothes-pins, instead of transfers. They are good on any line. 



An English newspaper quotes Lord Hartington as authority for the 

 truth of the following story: 



During the war, a professor in Paris set himself to track down a great 

 commercial firm in Spain, which, he said, was engaged in all sorts of 

 operations tending to break the blockade and to smuggle things into 

 Germany. He traced its activities in many directions — supplying iron 

 ore, submarines, and other facilities for a German victory. He pub- 

 lished the results of his investigations, together with a proposed method 

 of checkmating the offending firm, in a pamphlet of 80 printed pages. 

 The pamphlet disclosed the name of the firm: " Y. Hijos." 



Then, one day, the professor learned that " Y Hijos" was Spanish for 

 "and sons." 



