Volume 3 — Arthur Neale’s Page
Reading edition
Boarding our Interborough subway car at Columbus Circle the other day en route for our office—or, to be more exact, the office in which we have desk room—we espied one of the loveliest young feminine creatures it had ever yet been our good fortune to gaze on. She would have inspired artists to undreamed of masterpieces—she would have thrilled even a sign-painter. Bathed in her beauty we rode on, oblivious of all else—even our getting off stop. How we wished that we knew her! At Times Square she arose to alight. Poor girl—she was lame.
Still reflecting on this, we reached the office and started to put the final—not finishing—touches to the musical composition we were then at work on, a snappy little one-step entitled “When My Baby Smiles at Me, I Wish She’d See a Dentist.” We had no sooner put pen to paper when one of these wandering salesmen entered the office and planked down his bag of wares on the desk. “Would you be interested in anything in ladies’ silk stockings?” he said. “We used to be,” we replied. “But now we know it’s best to be careful.”
During that day we had to make a trip further downtown, and so used the subway again. Seated opposite to us was a very nice girl with her mother, and her legs were crossed—that is, the girl’s legs were. As Gus may remember, or rather, as Gus will never forget, there is a subway breeze wafting through these cars, and it was wafting just then. The mother noticed it, and although she spoke sotto voice—whatever that is—we heard her say to the girl: “Put your leg down, Rosie, der vind ist blowin’ der dress up.” “That’s all right, ma,” said the girl, “I ain’t deformed.” And seated directly opposite, we knew that the lady was quite correct.
While waiting with a friend the other evening for a Times Square traffic jam to disentangle itself, the friend drew our attention to a taxicab stalled at the curb just where we were standing. Or, to be precise, he drew our attention to the contents of the cab. She was a queen if there ever was one. Said our friend: “Shouldn’t mind being in there with that one.” “We should,” we replied. “Already the clock says $9.60.”
* * *
All Was Not Well
“Don’t yo’ all know it’s wrong to shoot craps?” piped the preacher as he discovered a portion of his congregation pursuing the Goddess of Chance.
“Yas, suh,” admitted one parishioner, languidly, “an’ bulieve me, Ah’s payin’ fo’ mah sins.”
* * *
A Tiresome Job
(From Minneapolis Journal)
LOOK—I must sell my shoe hospital, as I am getting tired of sitting. 6383, Journal.
* * *
“You’re a stingy old tight wad, Bill.”
“How do you make that out, Joe?”
“Why I heard your wife say that if you owned the Atlantic Ocean you wouldn’t even give a clam a gargle.”
* * *
Old Time Facts
A certain young man named McGirth, Was born on the day of his birth, He was married they say On his wife’s wedding day, And he died on his last day on earth.
* * *
Pat was passing a graveyard one day and read on a tombstone, “I still live.”
“Be jabbers,” said Pat, “if I was dead sure I’d own up to it.”
* * *
Photographer’s Sign
I enlarge your babies and frame them for only $5.00.
* * *
A man I know kicked up a row That stirred the neighbors wrath He walked up to a lady cow And slyly pinched her calf.
* * *
Lost or Stolen
(From Chattanooga Times.)
$10 REWARD. Black mare stolen. Return to W. W. Bell, Tyner, Tenn. Small wart in ear, tail chewed off at hocks; mane lays on both sides of neck; slightly reel-footed in two feet, one front, one hind; $25 if thief is with horse.
* * *
Mother (to battered son)—George, how many times have I told you to stop and count to a hundred before fighting?
George—That’s what I did, Ma, but the other kid’s mother told him to count only ten.
* * *
Quick, Officer, He’s Bleedin’!
Why is a woman like an umbrella?
Because she is made of ribs and attached to a stick.
No, have another guess.
Because nobody ever gets the right one.
Wrong, swing at it again.
Because she fades with age.
Almost, pull another.
Because she is a good thing to have about the house.
Rotten. Here’s the answer: A woman is like an umbrella because she is used to “reign.”
* * *
The Human Race
They sat alone in the moonlight, And she soothed his troubled brow; “Dearest, I know my life’s been fast, But I’m on my last lap now.”
* * *
One reason there is so much sadness in the world is that somewhere it is always time to get up in the morning.
* * *
What is a monologue?
A conversation between husband and wife.
* * *
The Most Regular Letter
The most popular letter is the letter “E” for it was the beginning and last of Eve, the beginning of Eternity, the end of Time and Space, the beginning of every end, and the end of every Race, and will always stick to Loraine, Marie and Florence to a finish.
It is also the most unpopular letter for it is never in Cash, always in Debt, everlastingly in Misery, never out of Danger, and always in RENT, HELL, and NEAR-BEER!
* * *
They called the baby Ivy because she crawled all around the house.
* * *
Our War Drama
While in New York City recently, a member of the Wild Cat Division, now employed in the McAlpin Hotel, related an anecdote on Paddy O’Loughlin, one of the division headquarter shuffers. It was after the armistice had been signed that Paddy made a flying trip to Paris, via his trusty flivver. Upon his return he made the following report to his buddies:
“The war ain’t finished yet, be gorra, by a hekuva sight. The battle in Paris, which is going on right now, is a darn sight worse than we had with the Boche. It’s a whole lot different kind of war, but a fellow isn’t any safer on the Grand Boulevard than he was in front of a German machine gun nest.
“The attack started no more than I hit Paris and it got worse every minute until I left. You bet I was lucky to come out alive. The enemy approached me as soon as I stepped out of my truck and opened fire. She swooped down on me like a thirsty Irishman pounces on a glass of suds, grabbed hold of me by the arm just like we used to nab the German prisoners and tried to carry me off. I broke away from her, but I hadn’t gone more than fifty feet before I met another detachment of the enemy. There were two of them this time. Say, talk about your camouflage! The Germans or French neither never had nothing on them. Their lips were made up like strawberries, and their eyes—oh, la! la!
“They tried the same game on me and tried to carry me away, but I got away from them. When I hit the Boulevard, it was just like trying to run through a heavy barrage. They were all over, little cute one pounders and big heavy seventy-fives. They used the old German mass formation on me and when I tried to push through, it was worse than climbing over barb wire entanglements in No Man’s Land. The rate of fire got hotter every minute. I didn’t want to do it but there were too many of them and I had to holler ‘Kamerad.’”
We tried to get “Paddy” to tell what happened after that, but he blushed and said that was all.
* * *
The Horse That Wins the Race
If you ever go to races I think you’ll agree, In the following philosophy which oft occurred to me; Some horses start off slowly and others make the pace, But the first horse at the wire is the horse that wins the race. It doesn’t always matter which jockey has your mount, When they rally down the homestretch, one thing alone will count, Luck often passes merit, and for better or for worse, The rear horse gets his lashing and the front horse takes the purse, When dealing cards in poker you are liable to find That two pair seldom rank as high as three cards of a kind. The King card is high card but it doesn’t beat the ace: The first horse at the wire is the one that wins the race. Just look the records over, and you’ll stay with me, I guess, That really, for succeeding, there’s nothing like success; The world will surely judge you by the things that you have done! You will only get its pity for your battles nearly won. Reputation isn’t always what it’s lauded up to be, The shallow brooks are noisiest, down flowing to the sea, Great genius sometimes hides itself within the common face; Dark horses beat the favorites to many a gallant race. Endeavor may be noble, but the world doesn’t care a pin, For an ocean of endeavors unless they chance to win. Finish what you’ve undertaken if you want to make a name Success has filled the niches in the temple walls of Fame. The most successful doctor is the one that most is paid, The merchant who most prospers is the one who gets the trade, The most successful lawyer is the one who wins the case, And the first horse at the wire is the horse that wins the race, I often think it’s pretty hard that things should be just so, But you have to buy your ticket if you want to see the show. It’s the front of the procession where you always hear the band, And the boy who gets hot peanuts is the first one at the stand. So make your tablets ready and jot these maxims down; It’s the peasant does the hustling and the king that wears the crown. The man who gets the fox’s brush is the foremost in the chase, And the first horse at the wire is the horse that wins the race.
* * *
Dead Earnest
I asked a young lady if she would wed, With a smile in her bright roguish eyes, she said: “Go ask father.” Now she knew that I knew That her father was dead. And she knew that I knew Of the life he had led. So she knew that I knew, What she meant when she said, “Go ask father.”
* * *
There was a young gent from Tex Who made a trip over to Mex, And when he got back Forty pints in a sack; He sold each pint for an X.
* * *
Scented talcum is all right, but hardly a substitute for a bath.
* * *
Ancient But True
Here’s that we may swear, steal, and lie; When we swear may it be by the hand of justice; When we steal may it be away from bad company; When we lie may it be in the arms of the one we love best.
* * *
U’re Right, Professorette
A wise woman once said there are three follies of men. The first is climbing trees to shake down the fruit, when if they would wait long enough the fruit would fall of its own weight; the second is going to war to kill each other, when, if they only waited, they would die naturally, and the third, that they run after women when, if they would not do so, women would be sure to run after them.
* * *
Before Prohibition: “See your own country first.”
After: “Visit foreign lands and see your own country’s thirst.”
* * *
Customer—“Bring me a Typographical Error.”
Waiter (returning from kitchen)—“Sorry, we have none.”
Customer—“Well, here it is on the menu.”
* * *
A Sad Story
Ikey and Pat were wounded in an engagement in the Argonne. A priest making the rounds found them. After giving the Irishman the last rites he then went over to Ikey and asked, “Do you believe in the Father, Son and Holy Ghost?”
Ikey groaned and rolled over.
“Oi, Oi! Here I am dying and you ask me riddles.”