Better Greeting Cards

THE most unsatisfactory thing about New Year greetings is that they are too impersonal. Look over your cards during the holiday season and you will observe sentiments that have absolutely no bearing on your personal problems.

To make myself clear. I owe the butcher $35. Yet he’ll probably send me an engraved card wishing me, his valued patron, a happy new year. But I’ll still owe him $35! How much more I’d appreciate a credit memorandum from him cancelling my debt ! Since it is obvious that the old style greetings are meaningless and futile, here are five new type messages. If sent by the people indicated, these cards would really reach the heart :


Accept these hearty wishes for a year of jubilatiem

Without a single adenoid or tonsil operation. FROM MY INSURANCE BROKER

May your accident insurance pay yon dividends while laid-up.

May your several oilier policies next year he fully paid-up.


In order that this .New Year's Urne teilt leave your brow untroubled

The Hoard today has voted that your salary be doubled.


May the New Year bring you happiness and boundless sal isfaction

W ithout a single filling or emergency extraction.


A very happy New Year to you, son-in-law, so dear

I'm leaving for Australia to be gone about a year. —Arthur L. Lippmann

Famous But Modest

HE WAS a bom actor of the silent art.

He lived on a farm, and never bothered with pictures. A director, en route to Hollywood. gazed on him, when the train pulled up near the farm for water. He hired him immediately. He was tall, dark and handsome. The large studio building frightened him even the automobiles standing about scared him but the stars all took to him and were very kind. He played an important rôle in his first picture carried the female star for miles, out of danger of the bad bandits. The critics raved about him, so did the fans. He is to be starred. And. yet, he is very modest about his rapid climb to fame; he never even mentions it. He's a horse, you know .Frank O’Neil Power.

Rank Mutiny

In Eve’s day Fashion was assigned The rôle of World Dictator,

And she has reigned, quite unrestrained. Through all the ages later.

From fad to fad her legions she Still loves to hound and hustle.

But this I know, come weal or woe,

I will not wear a bustle.

Our figures have heen fat and slim.

Our tresses long and boyish;

From lines quite straight ire now migrate To frills and flounces coy is h.

Our hems, that barely grazed our knees.

Now in the gutter rustle.

But, here and now, I firmly vow,

I will not wear a bustle.

/ may be perpendicular

Where curves have been diclated.

And folks may jeer at lines austere,

But it has penetrated My sluggish mind that freedom's cause Is surely worth a tussle.

So I'll stay fiat, and that is that.

I will not wear a bustle.

Isa Grindlay Jackson.

Lament For One That Was Too F'air For This Dark World

I had a resolution.

She was as lovely as could he.

/ took her out on New Year's Day To walk abroad with me.

But everywhere tee went

People raised their hands anti cried;

“ Who’s that evil-looking ruffian there With Beauty by his side?”

/ sold her for a penny To some wild sea-faring men.

And now when I go walking Folk knote me once again.

—Stephen Moon.

Lines to Such a Charming Little Thing (Grrr!)

The lazy laughter in your eyes Changes to tender gazing And then to sweet cajolery.

My dear, you are amazing!

Men, old or young, don’t stand a chance Against your roguish baiting.

They grow quite suppliant, f orsooth Your slightest whim awaiting.

It's odd how all your wishes bear I nt mediate fruition !

Those meek, adoring strains must have

Uncanny intuition.— They bring such rare and lovely gifts. You really are a wonder To have them guess just what you want Without a single blunder!

There's something I would give you,—not From Paris, Ceylon. Nanking, But something that you truly need: One good, old-fashioned spanking. —Mary Gordon Wall.

Mrs. Chimpanzee's Tea

Mrs. Kangaroo went out to tea With Mrs. Chattering Chimpanzee, Went out to tea, went she. And as she sat upon the couch, Now who should spring from out her pouch But all her children three.

Poor Mrs. Chattering Chimpanzee Invited only one to tea. Just one to tea, asked she. She was so taken by surprise She scarcely could believe her eyes, Yet there they were—all three!

She poured the sugar in the pot. And served tea cold instead of hot, For so upset was she. When next she asked Ma Kangaroo, “Please leave your children in the Zoo.” Said Mrs. Chimpanzee. —Margaret Nickerson.

Maying the Poet Supply Stretch Out

RECENTLY Canadians have been pleas» antly electrified by a genuine literary dispute. The Canadian poet, Wilson MacDonald, declared in an article in a volume entitled. “Open House,” that English writers were carelessly ignorant of the works of Canadian writers. He referred to a visit to Canada of Alfred Noyes, the big English rhyme and metre man, and declared that, while Mr. Noyes had taken pains to become familiar with American verse, his knowledge of Canadian writers was about as varied and elaborate as Mahatma Ghandi’s wardrobe.

Mr. Noyes replied, in gentler terms, that Mr. MacDonald was talking through his crown of laurels. He said he was an ardent admirer of Canadian poetry and that he knew many Canadian poets intimately, notably Duncan Campbell Scott. One newspaper. however, quoted Mr. Noyes as follows:

“There are many Canadian authors . . . whose personal friendship I can claim, Duncan, Campbell, Scott, among others, will, I am quite sure, testify that my whole attitude, etc. ...”

The comma conscious compositor has introduced an interesting suggestion, and one that should make conversation much more interesting. The three leading English poets, he probably thinks are Percy, Bysshe and Shelley, while among the Americans he very likely holds to Edgar, Allan and Poe. Perhaps he prefers others such as Henry, Wadsworth or Longfellow.

Duncan, Campbell, Scott,

Who is the best of the lot?

Who shall be rated The one to be feted,


or Campbell, or Scott?

Dearie, dearie me!

What will the end of it be If ev’ry blithe poet Before we may know it Is suddenly split into three?

Money In It

A FRIEND of ours is the father of two sons, the younger of whom is very much interested in the question of pulling baby teeth. He was told by his mother that if, during the night, he would pull out a loose tooth and place it between two saucers, the fairies would replace it with a silver coin. So he did and they did.

His mother, however, unable to find any fairies, had taken their place, and had placed the tooth in her dresser drawer, intending to throw it out later. But there it was found by the two youngsters. Whereupon the following conversation was overheard.

The elder brother: “Say. Junior, did you know that that tooth is the one you lost last night?”

Junior: “Yes, I know, but for goodness sake don’t tell mother!”

Commeiu on the Flight of Time

T_JAVING occasion to reclaim an article long stored in the attic the other day we were edified to find it wrapped in two pages of the Toronto Daily Star of June 28, 1916. As we straightened out the crumpled pages we felt sure that here was to be found a lesson of great philosophical import. Alas, the general tenor of the reporting mind seemed pretty much the same as today. There were some rather depressingly dull reports of market activity, a couple of minor burglaries had been committed and someone was protesting that the North Toronto Fire Hall had been employing unmarried men who should be in khaki rather than blue. The daily war commentary was interesting in its preoccupation with the Russian advances in the Carpathians and the Bulgarian attitude toward Greece. Generally, however, there was nothing exciting or romantic about it. Perhajjs we found the wrong pages.

One feature, nevertheless, w'e regard as mildly significant. The comic strips were printed much larger. More things must be happening today, or perhaps we as readers are interested in more things today, to crowd the comics into such comparatively small sjMice as each now occupies. Also, if it is any comfort to you, the funnies are much better draw n now.

Lots of Fun for All

Siieaking of censors, as the best of us occasionally do, it is noted that the United States has them too. One of their latest acts which deserves this month’s Special Mention, has to do with Greta Garbo’s new picture. The film is made from the novel, “The Rise and Fall of Susan Lenox.” This seemed to strike a depressing note to the censorial mind and the title was ordered changed to “Susan Lenox, Her Fall and Rise.” More optimistic for these days.

Heroism— When Their Majesties go into residence at Balmoral Castle, some of the more eminent of Scottish preachers officiate at Crathie Church near by. Dr. MacLean Watt, of Glasgow Cathedral, after preaching on one occasion, was asked to dinner, and in the course of conversation told Her Majesty how he spent his summer holiday on a lonely Hebridean island without a companion. “Do you mean that you cook your own meals?" asked the Queen. “I do. Your Majesty,” replied the doctor. “How very heroic of you.” “Ah, but I do something even more heroic Your Majesty—I eat them.”— Montreal Star.

Pleased Friend: “For a defeated candidate, it seems to me you are looking mighty well pleased.”

Politician: “I have just been reading over my list of election promises.”—Vancouver Province.

Snapshot—“Well, constable,” said the magistrate, “what is the accused charged with?”

"He is a camera fiend of the worst type, sir,” said the constable, “and—”

“But, surely,” interrupted the magistrate in surprise, “surely you didn’t arrest this man simply because he had a mania for taking pictures?”

“Oh, no, sir!” explained the witness. “It isn't pictures that he takes it’s cameras!” —Ottawa Citizen.

He Should Have Died at the Dead Sea—

“Travelled all over the world, eh? Went up the Rhine, I suppose?”

"Climbed it to the top.”

“Saw the Lion of St. Mark?”

“Fed it.”

“And visited the Black Sea?”

“Filled my fountain pen there.”— Manitoba Free Press.

Glints of Humor When Tree was rehearsing the dramatized version of “The Eternal City,” Sir Hall Caine wanted him to drag Constance Collier, taking the part of “Roma,” round the stage by her hair and bang her on the floor.

“Very effective,” said Tree, “but I seem to remember that identical business in another famous tragedy.”

Hall Caine, deeply interested, asked what it was.

“Punch and Judy,” Tree replied with a chuckle. Calgary Herald.

Explanation—The only reason a great many American families don’t own an elephant is that they have never been offered an elephant for a dollar down and easy weekly payments.— Medicine Hat News.

Satisfied Britain’s resources are quite adequate. Lloyd George says. And they include Mr. Lloyd George.— Border Cities Star.

Weekly Period “I hear May is furnishing her house with period pieces.”


“No, installment.”—Montreal Star.

That’s Right—Showman: “And now, ladies and gents, there’s this ’ere halligator. Note the length. Fifteen feet from the tip of the nose to the tip of the tail, and fifteen feet from the tip of the tail to the tip of the nose - thirty feet in all.”—Sarnia Observer.

Oops!—“Is your wife home?”

“Naw,” replied Finkle, "she’s out with a bunch of prize fighters.”

"Prize fighters?” exclaimed Funkle. “Yes,” replied Finkle, “she went to a bridge party.”—Montreal Gazette.

Glints of Humor—The English sportsman prided himself on his accuracy with the gun.

One day while on the moors he said to the boy who had the job of loading his guns:

“I’ll give you a shilling for each bird I miss.”

At the end of the day the boy returned to the village.

“Well, Bill,” said one of his young friends, “how did you get on today?”

“Not bad,” returned Bill. “I made ten shillings. ”

"How did you do that?” asked his friend.

Bill explained, and then added:

“And I could have made double that, but I hadn’t any more blank cartridges.”— Calgary Herald.

That’s Life—Mrs. Pou: “Anything new in the paper this morning?”

Mr. Pou: "No, same old things—only happening to different people.”—Medicine Hat News.

Juvenile Morality—In an elementary Sunday school class a few Sundays ago, a kiddy was asked by the teacher: “What are the sins of omission?”

The teacher got a new slant on life when the answer came: “Please, sir, they are the sins we ought to have committed and didn’t.”—Northern Mail.

Some Restraint—Anyway, the world has made some progress. It frowns on any organization smaller than a nation that shoots competitors.—Toronto Star.

A Word to the Wise—A policeman caught a Welsh lad skating in a prohibited


“Your name, please,” he demanded. “Aubrey Llewellyn Brymont Montgomery Llewellyn,” came the reply.

The policeman put his notebook away, and looked sternly at the offender: “Well, don’t let me catch you here again,” he said severely.—Fredericton Gleaner.

He Just Thought Sa—Bandit: “What! Only thirty cents? Been playing poker,


Victim: “No, but I’ve been sitting with some fellows who were!”—Lindsay Post.

Hint to Mechanics—A young man took a girl for a ride in his new car. On a particularly deserted stretch of road the engine went “dead.” While waiting for help the young man began to make love to his companion.

“My kisses,” he said passionately, “will put new life into you.”

“Then for goodness’ sake kiss the car,” said the girl, “and let’s get home.”— Vancouver Star.

And Our Hot Dog Stands—That European critic who says America has produced no distinctive architecture should come over and see the filling stations.—Toronto Daily Star.

Sound Advice—She was a very interfering woman, and as she was strolling along the river bank one day she was just in time to see an angler pull up a fine fish.

“You wicked man,” she exclaimed. “Just look what you have done to that poor fish.”

“Well, it’s his own fault,” he retorted. “He’d never have got into trouble if he’d kept his mouth shut.”—Sarnia Observer.

Lovely !—Man of the House to dishevelled maid: “You look pretty dirty.”

“Yes, sir, but I am prettier still when I am clean.” Family Herald and Weekly Star.

A Man Has Some Rights—Policeman: “Hey, come out of that. No bathing allowed ’ere.”

Dignified Man (in pond): “Pardon me. I’m not bathing—I’m drowning.”—Manitoba Free Press.

No Noose For Him—Governor of prison: “No. 99, His Majesty has been pleased to commute your sentence to penal servitude for life.”

Condemned Man: “Well, sir, they say no noose is good news, and I’m hanged if it isn’t.”—St. Frances Times.

Passer-by (to workmen holding out net): “What's the matter?”

Workman: “They’ve just gone up to tell ’Arry the knocking-off whistle blew ’alf an hour ago, and we’re taking precautions in case ’e does a faint!”—The Humorist, London.