Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 41, Number 75, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 June 1909 — TALF TRUE TALES OF THE STREET AND THE TOWN. [ARTICLE]

TALF TRUE TALES OF THE STREET AND THE TOWN.

n,i “S Kfmaffe. He cajls at 8 Upon Miss K 8 And stays till 18; Their tete-a-t8 Leads hiiin to stß He thinks her grß any rB, She names the d 8; They osculS. —o — TJ»e Hr. Shulman. Ffank Shulman, who lives in the farthest Bronx, came to Harlem the other day to buy his spring seeds, or something. In the course of the day he began to indulge in some pleasing liquid entertainment with lather on it. The farther Mr. Shulman went, the happier he felt. He wabbled from saloon to saloon, followed by a cheering crowd. Most of the guerrillas and pickpockets of Harlem were in the train, and every now and then some one bought Mr. Shulman a fresh drink. By and by Mr. Shulman's condition became atrocious. Policeman Noonan found him with bis face on the pavement, trying to push it home. So he took Mr. Shulman to ftie museum. Mr. Shulman was dead to the world. When the policemen began to search him, they found blm absolutely quilted with currency. He had money literally in every pocket. Some of the bills were covered with blue mold, he had had them so long. When he woke up in the morning, the coppers handed him a roll of money about the size of a milk pail. He

counted it very carefully. “Seven hundred and seven dollars and nine cents,” he said, letting go of his brow for a moment to do a bit of mental arithmetic. “Dang it! I must a spent more’n a dollar yestiddy. I’m pretty sure I had #708.50 when I left home.” The dips and vag rollers of Harlem are trying to gnaw each other’s hearts out at the thought of letting that bundle get away.

Will She Be An Authoress? Has one of our sweet girl graduates designs on novel writing? The following was picked up on the high school campus: “The western sky shone a fading opal, one by one the little stars, like silver-headed tacks on the baize of the sky, peeped forth, as Pauline Vere de Vere, of Ridgefield Manor, leaned her head against the trysting tree and sighed. ‘“He cometh not, and I’m so sad and lonely. Would that I had some peppermints to suck.’ ” “Just then the sounds of an approaching horseman broke the silence of the declining day, interrupted by the breathing of the disconsolate maiden as she sighed for her absent lover and his usual sack of peppermints.”

tfe—T. Essay On Pants. The following essay on pants is said to have been handed in by a boy in the regular course of work in the schools of this city: “When dad has worn his trousers out they pass to brother John, then mother trims them ’round about and William puts them on. When William’s legs too long have grown, the trousers fail to hide ’em, so Walter claims them for his own and hides himself inside ’em. Next Sam’s fat legs the pants invest and when they won’t stretch tighter they’re turned and for me—the writer, hla works them into caps and rugs when I have bursted the stitches; at doom’s day we shall see perhaps, the last of dad’s old britches.”

Party He Belonged To. A. matron of the most determined character wgs encountered by a young womap reporter on a country paper, who was sent out to interview leading citizens as to.their politic ß - ‘‘May I see Mr. ?” she asked of a sternlooking woman who opened the door at one house. “No, you can’t” answered the matron decisively. “But I want to know what party he belongs to," pleaded the girl. The woman drew up her tall figure. “Well, take a good look at me,” she said. “I’m the party he belongs to!”

—o — Cuptain Was Right. During the recent financial depression in England, Pat and Mike enlisted in the British army. After the first drill the captain, thinking the circumstances opportune for a little lecture on patriotism, demanded eloquently, “Soldiers, why should a man die for his king and country?” r This struck Pat as a proper question. Turning to Alike he said:

"FaiUt, Moike, the captaip is roight; Whoi?” ' 1 Warned In Time. A deaf but pious English ,lnds visiting a Small country town in Scotland went to church armed with an ear trumpet. The elders had never seen one, and viewed it with suspicion and uneasiness. After a short consultation, one of them went up to the lady, just before the opening of the services, and wagging his finger at her warningly, whispered: “One toot, and ye’re oot !” Increasing Circulation. “Let us,” said the ardent youth To the journalistic miss; “Let us, shyly, go to press, “So that we may print a kiss.” One edition soon was done— He knew what he was about. “Our success in fine,” he said, “We must get some extras out!” —o — His Feet. “Thank you,” she said as he finally gave her his seat. “The car bumps so it’s almost impossible to stand on our feet.” “That was because I kept pullin’ ’em out of your way, ma’am,” he replied. "But you did manage to land on my pet corn a couple o’ times.” —o — English!” Dinah, crying bitterly, was coming down the street with her feet bandaged. - - “Why, what on earth’s the matter?” she was asked. “How did you hurt J your feet, Dinah?” | “Dat good fo’ nothin’ nigger (sniffle) done hit me on de haid wif a club while I was standin’ on de hard stone pavement. —o — Young Staylight lingered and lingered. The young lady dozed. The tall clock in the hall struck 11 and the clock in the parlor mantel struck twelve. “How funny,” they young man gurgled, “one struck 11 and one 12. Which one is right?” “Add’em up,” she said. He did.

How Old Was the Joke. “I understand that you said some of my jokes were as old as the hills?” interrogated the struggling humorist, in crestfallen tones. “My dear sir, you have been misinformed,” laughed the busy editor. “What I said was that some of the hills were as old as your jokes.”