Part 8 (1/2)

A box-office man has won the politeness prize. Topsy-turvy world, did you say?

We lamp by the rural correspondence that Mrs. Alfred Snow of Chili, Wis., is on her way to Bismarck, N. D. It is suggested that she detour to Hot Springs and warm up a bit.

_BLAKE COMES BACK._

_Little Ford, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee gas and bade thee speed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee cus.h.i.+ons hard and tight, b.u.mpy tires small and white; Gave thee such a raucous voice, Making all the deaf rejoice?

Little Ford, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?_

_Little Ford, I'll tell thee, Little Ford, I'll tell thee.

He is called by thy name, Henry Ford, the very same.

He is meek and he is mild, Is pacific as a child.

He a child and thou a Ford, You are called the same word.

Little Ford, G.o.d bless thee!

Little Ford, G.o.d bless thee!_

_B. L._

EVERYBODY CAME IN A FORD.

[From the Milwaukee Sentinel.]

Miss Evelyn Shallow, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Peter Shallow, and Raymond Bridger, both of Little River, were married recently at Oconto.

Considering the pictorial advertis.e.m.e.nts, A. B. Walkley finds that that triumphant figure of the active, bustling world, the business man, divides his day somewhat as follows: He begins with his toilet, which seems to center in or near his chin, which is prominent, square, firm, and smooth; even the rich, velvety lather cannot disguise it. The business man collects safety razors; he collects collars, too. He seems to be in the habit of calling in his friends to see how perfectly his s.h.i.+rt fits at the neck. Once dressed, he goes to his office and is to be found at an enormous desk bristling with patent devices, pleasantly gossiping with another business man. You next find him in evening dress at the dinner table, beaming at the waiter who has brought him his favorite sauce. Lastly you have a glimpse of him in pajamas, discoursing with several other business men in pajamas, all sitting cross-legged and smoking enormous cigars. This is the end of a perfect business day.

Mr. Kipling has obtained an injunction and damages because a medicine company used a stanza of his ”If” to boost its pills. While we do not think much of the verses, we are glad the public is reminded that the little things which a poet dashes off are as much private property as a bottle of pills or a was.h.i.+ng machine.

Animals in a new Noah's Ark are made correctly to the scale designed by a London artist who studies the beasts in the Zoo. Would you buy such an ark for a child? Neither would we.