Volume 2 — How To Make Love
Reading edition
The Whiz Bang has received a call for help from an anxious swain, who, being too bashful to write his own love croon, sends us a dime and asks us to write his speech to The Girl. Ordinarily we do not perform such high-class service for a dime, but to assist America in returning to “normalcy” we have decided to fix it up without war tax and at reduced prices. Therefore, Mr. Fallin Love, we are offering for your approval Captain Billy’s “How to Make Love.”
Dearest, most darling of girls, rosebud of my heart and cream of mine eyes—My little dream girl, how I would love to hold you in my arms tonight and press my lips against those ruby cupid bows of yours. I long for you every hour of the day, and at night I yearn for you. I feel as though your spirit is always with me and I lean on it for support in all my undertakings.
Your smiling face is an inspiration to me at all times and your voice is like the chimes of Normandy in my ears. Your smiles are like the sunshine in Flanders Field in spring. Dearest love, I cannot live without you. Life would be as barren as the desolate hills of the Arctic. Dreary were the days until I met you, sunshine of my life and rose of Nippon. I adore you.
I fall at your shrine and worship you. There is not a thing I would not go through to reach you. Every time I think of your smiling face, the gates of Paradise are lost in oblivion. There is not one, oh Rose of the Moon, that could take your place in my heart. The days of the cave man are over. If they were not, it would simply be a revival of the survival of the fittest, and I would be compelled to steal you away. As it is, we will have to use diplomacy. Sweetheart, will you loan me a dollar?
* * *
O everybody has his toddy Nane they say hae I; Yet all the same I can’t complain Since Tom came home with Rye.
* * *
A Chapter on Women
Charles Nodier—Of all the animals, cats, flies and women take the longest time in dressing.
Chamfort—A woman is like your shower; follow her, she flies; fly from her, she follows.
La Rochefoucauld—There are no women the merit of whom lasts longer than the beauty.
Fontenelle—Most women prefer that one should talk ill of their virtue rather than ill of their wit or of their beauty.
Balzac—A virtuous woman has in the heart a fiber less or a fiber more than other women; she is stupid or sublime.
Delphine de Girardin—Nothing, after a stupid woman, is rarer in France than a generous woman.
George Sand—Woman is stupid by nature.
* * *
“Piece de Resistance”
A girl was walking along a road, and a young man along another. The roads finally united, the man and woman reaching the junction at the same time, walked on from there together. The man was carrying a large iron kettle on his back. In one hand he held, by the legs, a live chicken, in the other a cane, and he was leading a goat. Just as they were coming to a deep ravine the girl said to the young man:
“I’m afraid to go through that ravine with you, it is a lonely place and you might overpower me and kiss me by force—!”
“How can I possibly kiss you by force,” he asked, “when I have this iron kettle on my back, and a cane in one hand, and a live chicken in the other, and am leading this goat? I might as well be tied hand and foot!”
“True,” replied the girl, “but if you should stick your cane into the ground and tie the goat to it, and turn the kettle upside down and put the chicken under it, then you might wickedly kiss me in spite of my resistance!”
“I should never have thought of that,” he said.
And when he came to the ravine, he stuck his cane into the ground and tied the goat to it, and, lowering the kettle from his shoulders, imprisoned the fowl under it, and kissed the girl!
* * *
Bess—“Why did you let him kiss you?”
Tess—“He threatened to scream if I didn’t.”
* * *
All in the Name
A party of Louisville ladies, en route to a Canadian summer resort, was delayed on the border by the usual customs examination. To the question as to what her suitcase contained, the fairest and youngest replied:
“Nothing but wearing apparel.”
Now, tucked carefully away in one of the corners of that suitcase the efficient official brought to light a tiny vial (evidence of a thoughtful mother’s “safety first” measure) filled to the neck with nothing less than a generous swallow of the once justly famed “Kentucky Dew.”
The officer frowned to conceal his amusement. “Didn’t I understand you to say that this valise contained only wearing apparel?” he asked.
The fair Kentuckian nodded an affirmative, no whit abashed by the contradictory nature of the official’s find. “Well, will you tell me what you call this?” persisted the inquisitor, holding to view the diminutive bottle, whose very contents seemed blushing for its owner’s disregard for the truth.
“Oh, that?” came the reply in a soft, Southern drawl. “In Kentucky we call that a nightcap.”
* * *
Days of Real Sport
(From the Menominee Herald-Leader.)
Ten Years Ago Today: Henry Albright is in serious danger of losing one eye as the result of being cut by a beer glass in a rumpus last evening in Michael Bottkol’s saloon.