Complaining at Tottenham of assault, a woman said this was the second
time the same man had assaulted her.
“I took no notice when he kicked me the first time,” she said, “because
it was dark, and I took it to be my husband.”
“Then I saw it was a stranger, and I screamed.”
* * * * *
“I hate to be a kicker, and generally stand for peace; but the wheel that
does the squeaking is the wheel that gets the grease.”—Kipling.
_Our Rural Mail Box_
=_I. Scream_=—You ask me to publish the story entitled “Heaven’s Above”
and I am herewith complying, poetical style:
_I kissed the dimple in her chin,_
_Her cheeks suffused with red;_
_Reprovingly she looked at me,_
_“Heaven’s above!” she said._
Maybe you don’t think that this is the true version, but it is the only
one we can think of at present.
* * * * *
=_Yucan Haver_=—Your friend, when he said you had eyes like a certain
star, probably referred to Ben Turpin’s.
* * * * *
=_Al A. Baster_=—Yes, it is very embarrassing for the young man who tries
to stop a lady’s nose-bleed by putting a bunch of cold keys down her
back, especially if it is at a fancy dress ball.
* * * * *
=_George_=—Good looks, money, a car, help along the male flirt—but the
only indispensable requisite is a chilled steel nerve.
* * * * *