=_My Dear Captain_=—I admire you very much and wish to tell you that I am a neat, nifty and nice little girl. All of my hats are from Paris, though I must confess my stockings were all made in America. Would you like to see Paris?—=_Chloro Form._= No, I’m patriotic. I’d rather see America first. * * * * * =_Dear Cap_=—How come that your hired man, Gus, is a born musician?—=_Simon Konshush._= Because he has drums in his ears. * * * * * =_Dear Capt. Billy_=—How can I impress upon my sweetheart that I am really in love with her?—=_Jim Crowe._= While talking to her, heave your chest up and down like the men in the movies. * * * * * =_Dear Capt. Billy_=—Lately I have been keeping company with a delightful girl. Unfortunately, however, she is inclined to wear her skirts too short. Could you advise me how I can get her to lengthen them without offending her?—=_I. Hoofit._= Hoofit, old dear, you should learn to be diplomatic. The best way to accomplish the result is to say something like this, “Sweetheart, your eyes are simply dazzling, but no one will ever notice them, unless you lengthen your skirts.” * * * * * =_Dear Skipper_=—What is meant by “Mind your P’s and Q’s?”—=_Dear Dairy Maid._= Probably means “Mind your pints and quarts.” * * * * * =_Dear Capt. Billy_=—I have just been married and would like your advice on how long I should cook spaghetti.—=_Mrs. Dis N. Terry._= Spaghetti should not be cooked too long. About ten inches is right. * * * * * =_Dear Skipper Bill_=—A land-lubber friend of mine recently joined the Navy and has been assigned to my ship. Could you please suggest a practical joke to play on him during his first trip at sea?—=_Jack Tarr._= Bet him a dollar he’ll come in the next roll. * * * * * =_Dear Captain Billy_=—I visited a nice little girl the other evening and she would not let me kiss her. Instead, she insisted on kissing a perfumed Persian kitten she held in her lap. What would you advise me to do?—=_Bashful Bert._= On your next visit, select a dark and dismal night and at the psychological time meow like a cat. Maybe she won’t know the difference. * * * * * =_Dear Captain Billy_=—I am a young married man. There is a handsome married woman, the wife of a traveling man, across the hall. She has a phonograph and each evening when he is away she plays such records as: “Lonesome,” “I Know That You Are Married,” “Won’t You Come Over to My House,” “Won’t You Come Over and Play?” Do you think I should take a chance?—=_Phical Phil._= You are hereby referred to the poem “Johnny and Frankie,” which appears in the Smokehouse section of this issue. * * * * *