Part 14 (1/2)

”The lake is partially frozen over and well filled with skaters.”--Janesville Gazette.

Three children sliding on the ice, Upon a summer's day, As it fell out, they all fell in, The rest they ran away.

Ma Goose.

There is plenty of snap to the department of mathematics in the Shortridge high school in Indianapolis. The head of the department is Walter G. Gingery.

Wedded, in Chicago, Otho Neer and Lucille Dimond. Fas.h.i.+on your own setting.

Oh, dear! Rollin Pease, the singer, is around again, reminding sundry readers of the difficulty of keeping them on a knife.

”THOSE FLAPJACKS OF BROWN'S.”

(_Postscriptum._)

I'll write no more verses--plague take 'em!-- Court neither your smiles nor your frowns, If you'll only please tell how to make 'em, Those flapjacks of Brown's.

D. W. A.

Three cupfuls of flour will do nicely, And toss in a teaspoon of salt; Next add baking powder, precisely Two teaspoons, the stuff to exalt; Of sugar two tablespoons, heaping-- (All spoons should be heaping, says Neal); Then mix it with strokes that are sweeping, And stir like the Deil.

Three eggs. (Tho' the missus may sputter, You'll pay to her protest no heed.) A size-of-an-egg piece of b.u.t.ter, And milk as you happen to need.

Now mix the whole mess with a beater; Don't get it too thick or too thin.

(And I pause to remark that this meter Is awkward as sin.)

Of course there are touches that only A genius like Brown can impart; And genius is everywhere lonely, And no one but Brown has the art.

I picture him stirring--a gentle Exponent of modern Romance, With his s.h.i.+rttails, in style Oriental, Outside of his pants.

THE DICTATERS.

Sir: I have lost a year's growth since I went into business in answering questions about the letters that appear after my communications--HAM/AND.

H. A. M.