HUMOR

Parade

THE GRIN AND BARE IT SECTION

March 1 1942
HUMOR

Parade

THE GRIN AND BARE IT SECTION

March 1 1942

Parade

THE GRIN AND BARE IT SECTION

HUMOR

IN CALGARY, a women’s organization interested in educational matters holds monthly meetings in one or another of the public schools. It is the amiable custom of this group to invite leading citizens to address them; but, since the gatherings are rotated from school to school, the merits of the

auditorium used and the

size of the audience both are highly uncertain quantities. On a recent occasion members of the executive committee were horrified to discover that they had asked an exceptionally celebrated gentleman of national consequence to be their honor guest at a session held in a small school in a rather inaccessible outlying district. Quite overcome with

embarrassment as she realized that this dis-

tinguished personage would have to talk in a drafty gymnasium before a baker’s dozen of frightened women, Madam Chairman opened her introductory remarks with an apology. It was difficult at that particular time of year, she explained, to get anyone at all as a guest. “Certainly,” she went on, “if we could have obtained a worse speaker, we would have done so.”

When one of Canada’s most sought-after journalists and orators was scheduled to deliver an address at the Dominion United Church in Ottawa, the bulletin board announced the event thus:

Hear Grattan O’Leary “Through Terror to Triumph”

Assisted by the Choir

War conditions have moved thousands of women workers into Ottawa to staff the scores of entirely new or vastly extended governmental agencies. Few people knew, though, that the numerical superiority of feminine over masculine population in the capital had reached the proportions indicated in a recent advertisement offering a house for sale complete, with “two-car garage, bachelor in basement.”

Car owners suffering from headaches caused by the freezing of new tire sales may discover some sort of symbolic consolation in the predicament of Mr. George Cruickshank, a leading citizen of the Fraser Valley district in British Columbia. The Government’s brusque ban on balloons for automobile wheels caught George Cruickshank in this condition: Two tires so old as to be practically

beyond reclamation: one with four patches on the inner tube; the fourth, bought secondhand, of dubious durability.

Mr. George Cruickshank represents the Fraser Valley constituency in the House of Commons at Ottawa.

One of those now-it-can-be-told episodes comes out of Truro, N.S., released by the recent death of H.R.H.the Duke of Connaught, who was GovernorGeneral of Canada prior to and during the first World War. On August 1, 1912, the Duke laid the cornerstone of Truro’s then brand-new Civic Building. Now comes F. A. Doane, an old-time Truro resident, remembering that only a few hours before the time set for the ceremony he

noticed that the name “Connaught” had been misspelled “Connought” in the inscription engraved on the stone. A hasty consultation among those in authority resulted in the recall of the erring sculptor, who turned the block over and cut a correctly spelled record of the occasion on the opposite side. This probably makes Truro the only community in Canada possessing a Civic Building bearing a twice inscribed record of its erection, one of the inscriptions egregiously inaccurate.

Twelve young unmarried citizens of Medicine Hat, Alta., are taking a long view of the war. They have pledged themselves to purchase for the first of January of each succeeding year two War Savings Stamps apiece. Should one of the company become engaged his tribute is increased to three savings stamps annually. When a member marries he has to contribute four stamps every year. The accumulated stamps are exchanged for War Savings Certificates, and the whole pool, plus the interest, is to be turned over to the member who first becomes the father of a male child. The boys have thought of everything. A member marrying more than once has his payment increased by twenty stamps for each additional wife. The money is not awarded for the birth of girl babies, with one exception—female quintuplets win the jack pot.

A mimeographed sheet entitled, “Suggestions on the Care of Feet,” distributed to the men of an Officers’ Training Centre, contains this drastic proposal: “The feet may be soaked regularly over night in a solution of salt, alum, or saltpetre.”

Sure cure for somnambulism, too.

Coincidental communiqué from the West: The Canadian corvette on which Edward J. Roberts is a petty officer picked up a boatload of survivors from a torpedoed ship in mid-Atlantic. Talking with the rescued men, P.O. Roberts discovered one of them to be Victor Chalmers, of Wetaskawin, whom he hadn’t seen since the two were Boy Scouts together twenty years ago. Without knowing a thing about it until long afterward Seaman Edward Smith was a member of the crew of a Canadian destroyer guarding the convoy carrying his brother, Corporal Jack Smith, overseas. Roberts’ home is on One Hundred and Sixth Street, Edmonton, Alta. The Smiths live on One Hundred and Fifth.

One of our Montreal scouts reports that on a trip to the Pacific Coast he discovered the staff of a swank Victoria hotel wrestling with a profound mystery. Every day some unknown individual walks into the hotel, makes his—or her—way upstairs and takes a leisurely tub in one or another of the inn’s open bathrooms. This, our man says, has been going on for months and months. The closest possible check has so far revealed only one sure fact. The bather is not a guest. They haven’t the remotest idea who he—or she—may be.

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