* * * * * _If she has a past, she needn’t tell—_ _The girl in a musical show._ _But if she possesses a birth-mark as well,_ _It’s something the whole world will know._ * * * * * They say that for a smart, wise lot of lads the New York hotel clerks are hard to beat. But not always. The other day I happened to be in the Astor lobby when a pair of young newlyweds came in from the street. The rice and confetti was still over them for all to see. The happy groom went up to the desk to register. In the course of the conversation I overheard this from the clerk: “Yes, sir; and do you want a room with twin beds?” Can you beat it! * * * * * _“To follow horses isn’t right,”_ _My father always said._ _So what I follow every night_ _Is chickens round instead._ * * * * * Reserved Seats The Amorous One: Do you ever peep through the key-hole when I am sitting in there with your sister? Small Brother: Sometimes. When mother ain’t there. * * * * * Tasty Stuff “His lips moved lazily over her face. ‘You taste so good,’ he sighed, and held her closer.”—From “This Side of Paradise.” There is a great difference in tastes, however. No person of discrimination would compare the taste of a sunkissed, flower scented maiden of the prairies with the flavor of a sootladen damsel from Pittsburgh or South Chicago. * * * * * Musings of a Bachelor Don’t kiss him with a snap; be coy about it. Don’t let him see the practice you’ve had. Woman spends much time in thinking what she would do were she a man, while man spends much time knowing what he would do if he were a woman. Some folk take pleasure in seeing that others have none. A married man fell in a vat of moonshine mash and drowned, but the papers said he died in good spirits. Love is an itching of the heart—a place where you can’t scratch. Girls, you can always tell if a man really loves you. If he says, “I love you,” and drawls it out as if it hurt him, he’s silver plated goods. If he says it as if he were ordering a glass of beer, that shows he is sizing up your dad’s pocket book, but if he says “I love you,” and hugs as if he’d never let go, and flushes up like a lobster, nail him; he’s it. * * * * * A Telephone Retort “Operator, if you will give me this number I will give you a nice, sweet kiss.” “Go to it, kid, I am standing on the receiver.” * * * * * High Explosive We have received a report of a New Orleans newspaperman who took a big swig of white mule hootch and then backed up against a bale of cotton and said: “Come on, big boy, let’s go!” _Adventures of Sven_