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T HE K I N G ’S B U S I N E S S
‘Ra-aly, H innissy, I feel I ough tn ’t to tak e this. Why did ye go to such ex pense f’r me? It makes my poor little g ift look so trivyal.’ An’ th ’ next week I obsarve th a t ye’re no t w earin’ th ’ mil linery I give ye, an ’ ye note th a t I still get me matches ou t iv me vest pocket, a n ’ nay ther iv us cares a sthraw wan way or another. B u t if ye h adn ’t given me annything, or if ye’d given me som ethin’ a n ’ I h adn ’t given ye an nything, we’d both feel mad. “There ain ’t anny worse feelin’ th in not g ettin ’ something fr ’m somebody th a t ye’ve given som ethin’ to except to get som ethin’ f r ’m somebody th a t ye’ve given n aw th in ’ to. MUCH TO BE THANKFUL FOR r, At a church conference a speaker be gan a tirad e against the universities and education, expressing th ankfulness th a t he had never been corrupted by contact w ith a college. A fter proceeding for a few m inutes, the bishop, who was in th e chair, in te r rupted w ith the question: “ Do I understand th a t Mr. Dobson is th a n k fu l for his ignorance?” “Well, yes” was the answ er; “you can p u t it th a t way if you like.” “Well, all I have to say,” said the p relate, in sweet and musical tones—- “ all I have to say is th a t he has much to be th an k fu l fo r.” WOULDN’T START A SCANDAL L ittle, M argaret lived in a gossipy neighborhood, and, being an observant child, had a number of ideas stowed away in her curly head. One day she was naughty and was sent up stairs to confess hdr transgressions. “ Did you tell God all about it? ” asked her mother when the child came down stairs. “ ’Deed I didn’t,” declared M argaret “ it would have been all over heaven in no tim e.”
COMMON SENSE OF MR. DOOLEY j“F a th e r Kelly says Chris’mas is a feelin’ as well as a feast. About th is tim e ix th ’ year th ’ Chris’mas feelin’ comes along an ’ gives ye a nudge. Ye’re th in k in ’ about cu ttin ’ down expenses an ’ savin’ money an ’ th ’ Chris’mas sp irit whisperg in ye’re ear, ‘Come, give up.’ ,‘But,’ says ye, ‘why shud I be buyin’ things f’r people th a t don’t w ant thim , because th ey ’re goin’ to buy things f ’r me th a t I don’t w ant because they th ink I’m buyin’ things f ’r th im th a t they don’t w an t because I th in k th ey ’re buy in ’ things f’r me th a t I don 't w an t?’ ‘None iv ye’re business,’ says th ’ Spirit of Ghris’mas. ‘Loosen up.’ An’ th ’ first th ing I know ye’re i n ' a joolry store buyin’ a goold watch a n ’ chain an ’ a dimon sh irt stud f’r me, I th in k not bu t I hope. “ I always hope about Chris’mas time th a t I ’m goin’ to get somethin’ th a t I ’ve always wanted, bu t so far havin’ pass ed a m a tth e r iv sixty Chris’mases, I ’ve had little luck iver since I was a boy a n ’ w anted a pony an ’ got a caddychism. I have in th e cellar as large a collection iv green neckties, slippers an ’ book m arks as Jak e F elsen th al has on sale. An’ yet I don’t m ind it. Th’ sufferings I endure fr ’m g ettin ’ prisints is offset be th ’ pleasure I inflict in givin’ thim . I know th a t on Chris’mas eve ye’ll come in h ere an ’ I ’ll reach undher th ’ coun te r an ’ toss out to ye a sm ail box w ith th ’ rem ark : ‘H ere’s a little som ethin’ I got f ’r ye.’ An’ ye’ll open it up an ’ p retind to be overwhelmed w ith pleas 1 u re an ’ su rp rise whin ye see a yellow cravat w ith green stripes. “ ‘Well, upon me w urrud, how did ye come to th in k iv this? There must be som ethin’ in though t tra n s f e re n c e , f’r th is is th ’ very th ing I was hopin’ some wan wud give me.’ An’ th in ye reach in to ye’re coattail pocket an ’ pull ou t a package. I reel w ith joy a t th ’ sight iv a cardboard match-box to hang on th ’ wall an ’ ta k e ye be th ’ hand an ’ say:
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