BEAU BRUMMEL elegant gallant of the mauve decade, never ate vegetables, `tis said. Once. exasperated because a hostess insisted upon dwelling on the amazing fact, he expostulated, "Well, madame, I once ate a pea." Which came into our minds when we heard recently about a girl from Vienna who married one of Hamilton's solid citizens. She went proudly to the wellstocked, substantial market to do her first week's shopping, basket on arm. "How much are carrots?" she asked. "And beets? And onions?" The salesman waited, bag in hand. "Well, I'll take two carrots, one onion and three beets." Apparently they do it that way in Austria.
And, speaking of food, a well-known North Bay resident was recently smitten with the idea of taking an Oka cheese home from Montreal. After some suffering with the morethan-fragrant package in his seat, and black looks from fellow travellers, he gave it into the keeping of the conductor. That official tried several unsuccessful means of disposal. Finally, the cheese rode home on the coupling point between the two cars. There’s nothing sissy about a Montreal cheese.
Edmonton is proud of its High Level Bridge. It’s quite a spell of a ride by street car from the stop on the north side to the stop, a mile distant, on the south. But there’s one girl who’ll probably be making the trip by foot for a while. Recently she boarded an almost empty one-man car. As the car gathered speed across the valley, she looked up to catch the gaze of the motorman reflected in his small mirror. He stretched back his free hand and moved it up and down slowly. The girl looked around. No one else seemed to be within hailing distance. This happened twice before she decided that she must have met the gentleman socially somewhere. After all, the City of Edmonton’s employees aren’t in the habit of . . well it just isn’t done. Finally, she lifted a hand cautiously. She waved it gently and hesitantly. There was a jolt as the car was brought to a stop in the middle of the bridge. The conductor walked back to her seat and eyed her with stern severity.
"Madame,” he said, in his coldest, his most impersonal tone, “you didn’t put a ticket in.”
He had been patting the ticket box beside him.
Boners discovered in compositions on the History of Saint John by Grade Nine pupils:
The LOYALISTS, 1783:
(1) When in United States, each of the edicts of blandishment and laws of confiscation were passed
(2) Many decided that it would be better to suffer starvation for a time in Canada than to die in no time where they were.
(3) Many died of cold from the crude dwellings, but as time went by, they survived it surprisingly well.
(4) But for them this city might have struggled on for years.
The GREAT FIRE, 1877.
(1) In a few minuets the fire spread rapidly .
(2) Crying children made the situation more horrible . . .
(3) This fire was the last important event in the history of Saint John.
One of our correspondents discovered the other day that each time he goes into the telephone office to haggle about his bill some very fancy eavesdropping goes on. The telephone company prefers the term “service observing.”
He reports thusly:
When I went up to the counter in the office, the young lady there asked me if I’d mind “stepping over this way, please,” and pointed to a section of the counter between an inkstand and a small rack that held several pastelshaded printed forms. On both the inkstand and the form rack I noticed the telephone company’s blue bell symbol and began idly prodding. Both of them, I found, were made of cloth and backed up by a perforated metal disc. I asked the young lady about it and she finally broke down and admitted that when she had led us to that spot in the counter she had lured us into a miniature broadcasting studio, for behind each innocent blue bell was hidden a small microphone.
The microphones, she explained, picked up our conversation and carried it (along with hers) back into the maze of the telephone building where a battery of “service observers” sat with their ears glued to head-phones to make sure that the pleasant young lady was being polite to me along the lines laid down in her “Treatment of Customers” manual.
She almost admitted, too, that the telephone company was often interested in finding out whether the customer was polite to the pleasant young lady.
It must be the heat. On the hottest day in 100 years this priceless advice appeared on "The Homemaker” page of the Toronto Globe:
Take a piece of cottonwood, wrap it round the ankle,
• and then pull on the stocking. This simple method prevents the cold that enters at the top of the boot from reaching the blood-vessels of the ankle. Sprinkle dry mustard in your boots, over which put two layers of brown paper cut as socks.
We consulted The Globe itself as to the meaning of the cryptic pronouncement but The Globe’s spokesman didn’t know. We regret that we are unable to offer a prize for the correct solution.
Signs of the Times:—
In an Edmonton hamburger stand: “Use less mustard more imagination.”
In an Edmonton auto wreckers: “Why use the ditch
when you can come here for an artistic smash-up?”
Of course we believe that one’s business should be advertised, but there are times when we think that a little discretion might have been shown.
For instance, we never have cared much for some dentists’ outdoor display of teeth. Or surgical supports and artificial limbs in drugstore windows. But we have passed this off as personal squeamishness.
Now we come out in unequivocal rebellion. A Saint John “Foot Specialist” has on display in a glass case outside the entrance to her business place a neat series of scram, Ripley, we were there first—corns!
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