There was fighting in the fo’c’sle; and the aggressor, a hard-faced, hard-fisted sailor man from Rotherhithe, was called upon to explain. “That square-headed Swede miscalled me,” he bellowed. “He said I was an Irishman, and I’m not. Me mother was a good Mexican lady and me father was two marines from Chatham!” The explanation cordially accepted. * * * * * Pithole Filosophy One time I got mad at a sassy kid; I said, “There is enough brass in your face to make a large kettle.” He said “Yes, and there’s enough sap in your head to fill it.” * * * * * The Wails of a Wolstead Wictim Oh to spend “jack” like a Jackass; to have the “hips” of a hippo; the neck of a giraffe; the thirst of a camel and the “jag” of a jaguar. * * * * * Giving Him Fair Warning She—“What are you thinking about?” He—“Just what you’re thinking about.” She—“If you do, I’ll scream.”—Phoenix. * * * * * The Way of a Lad With a Lass He—“Hu-nnnh?” She—“Nu’unnnh.” He—“Please.” She—“I told you NO!” He—“Hu’nnnnnnh?” She—“Nu’unnnnnnh.” He—“Huu’n n n n n nh?” She—“Nu—Unnnnnnn’huh.” Smack! * * * * * Modern Literature She nestled against the two strong arms that held her. She pressed her flushed cheek against the smooth skin-so near-so tan-so glowing. “How handsome!” she cried, her eyes noting the fine straight back, the sturdy, well-shaped legs. “How handsome!” she repeated. “I adore a leather upholstered chair.” * * * * * Flapper Blues Ain’t no use of living, nothing gained, Ain’t no use of eating just pain, Ain’t no use of kissing he’ll tell, Ain’t no use of nothing, Oh, well. * * * * * Djever Hear This One? An Englishman bragged that he was once mistaken for Lloyd George. The American boasted that he had been taken for President Wilson. Paddy said he had them all beat. “A fellow walked up to me and tapped me on the shoulder and said ‘Great God, is that you?’” * * * * * Pink Pills for Pale People Lydia Pinkham recently received a love letter from the vegetable compound magnate reading as follows, our correspondents report: “Do you carrot all for me? My bleeding heart beets for you. My love is as soft as a squash, but as strong as an onion. You are a peach with your radish hair and turnip nose. Your cherry lips and forget-me-not eyes call me. You are the apple of my eye, and if we canteloupe lettuce marry for I am sure we would make a happy pear.” * * * * * Lovely Calves We’re Having! “Oh see the darling little cow-lets!” “Miss, those are not cow-lets, they’re bull-ets.” Pasture Pot Pourri