King and Queen, Swedish, expecting to make change shortly, would like position as gardener and coachman, cook and laundress. Good home more important than salary. A1 references. Address Gus and Vicky, care this paper.
Emperor, 29 years as Kaiser in present position, expecting to be at liberty shortly, owing to change in employers’ circumstances, would like place as assassin, or pig-sticker in abattoir. No aversion to blood. Cool, resourceful, determined. Address efficient, care this paper.
Thus, seeking to be kind and fraternal, but at the same time perfectly honest, if we make mistakes, we may still comfort ourselves with the assurance which his Irish Catholic servant once expressed to the devout and learned Bishop Whately.
“Do you really believe,” he asked her, “that there is no salvation outside of the Roman Catholic Church?”
“Shure, an’ I do,” she replied, “for that’s what the praist ses.”
“Well, then, what is going to become of me?”
“Oh, that’s all right,” she answered, with an Irish twinkle in her eyes. “Yer riverence will be saved by yer ignorince.”
“We are thorry to thay,” explained the editor of the Skedunk Weekly News, “that our compothing-room wath entered lath night by thome unknown thcoundrel, who thtole every ‘eth’ in the ethtablithment, and thucceeded in making hith ethcape undetected.
“The motive of the mithcreant doubtleth wath revenge for thome thuppothed inthult.
“It thall never be thaid that the petty thpite of any thmall-thouled villain hath dithabled the Newth, and if thith meet the eye of the detethtable rathcal, we beg to athure him that he underethtimated the rethourceth of a firtht-clath newthpaper when he thinkth he can cripple it hopelethly by breaking into the alphabet. We take occathion to thay to him furthermore that before next Thurthday we thall have three timeth ath many etheth ath he thtole.
“We have reathon to thuthpect that we know the cowardly thkunk who committed thith act of vandalithm, and if he ith ever theen prowling about thith ethtablithment again, by day or by night, nothing will give uth more thatithfaction than to thoot hith hide full of holeth.”
They were seated in a tramcar—the mother and her little boy.
The conductor eyed the little boy suspiciously. He had to keep a lookout for people who pretended that their children were younger than they really were, in order to obtain free rides for them.
“And how old is your little boy, madam, please?”
“Three and a half,” said the mother truthfully.
“Right, ma’am,” said the conductor, satisfied.