A Atre w Edition of UD((CULL FUN

by JACK DIONNE

SAME STYLE.SAME SIZE.SAME STOCK

SAME WONDERFUL COLLECTION OF THOSE FAMOUS DARKEY STORIES AS IN THE ORIGINAL FIRST EDITION. JUST A MORE ECONOMICAL COVER.

-Price ONE, DOLLART

Postpaid anywhere in the U. S. o

The first two editions of ttCulludt' Fun have been sold out. This third edition especially produced to meet the continued demand for this famous book. Order your copy now. Just fill in the coupon, attach your check and mail.

JACK DIONNE, 318 Central Bldg., 108 West Sixth St., Los Angeles, Calif.

Enclosed find -- ----------- for which send me copies of t'Cullud" Fun.

Rumors

Life is much like Christmas-you are more apt to get what you €xpect, than what you want.

Anotfrtir good memory test is to sit down and recall the thinge 'you were worried about this time last yedr, pf course you've -heard of the fellow who got up early in the morning so he'd have more time to loaf.

Divorces are rare in Sweden. That's where the safety rnatches are made.

Old Dobbin had his faults, but he wasn't second-hand the day after you bought him.

Heiney says that love may not make the world go round, t but it sure mal6es a lot of people dizzy.

Some people would stoop to do anything, but when it comes to lifting anything, they get the backache.

If the airplane is ever made fool-proof, as promised,.it will be the only thing that is.

What this country needs is to beat swords into plowshares, and jazz bands into insensibility. Let's all club together.

"I've never put my watch under my pillow," said Lfncle Zep, "but what I slept overtime."

-Friendly Chat.

WOULDN'T WANT TO WORRY HIM

"Would you mind walking the other w'y and not passing the 'orse?" said a London cabman with exaggerated politeness to the fat lady who had just paid him, but failed to tip him.

"Why?" inquired the fat lady.

"Because, if 'e sees wot 'ee's been carrying for a strilling, 'e'll 'ave a fit."

scoTcH

And then there was the man from Aberdeen who put off buying an Atlas until world affairs got a little more settled.

sLow

An American in England was giving some illustrations of the size of the United States.

"You can entrain in the state of Texas at dawnr" he said impressively, "and twenty-four hours later you'll still be in Texas."

"Yes," said one of his English friends, .',we've got trains like that here, too."

Little Things

There's nothing very beautiful and nothing very gay, About the rush of faces in the town by day; , But a light tan cow in a pale green mead, , Is very beautiful, beautiful indeed.

And the soft March wind, and the low March mist Are better than kisses in a dark street kissed. The fragrance of the forest when it wakes. at'dawn, The fragrance of a trim green village lawn, The hearing of the murmur of the rain at play., These things are beautiful, beautiful as day ! , And I shant stand waiting for love or scorn When the fest is laid for a day new-born. Oh, better let the things I loved when little, Return when the heart finds the great things brittle; And better a temple made of bark and thong, Than a tall stone temple that may last too long.

-Orrick Johns.

A Dirty Answer

"You would never think from the way it looks and runs that this car was bought second-hand, would you?"

"Never ! I would have thought you made it yourself.',

LET'S PRETEND

The dreams of youth become the let's pretend of age. And the person who has forgotten the game of let's pretend is in soul-color of the dullness of ditch-water.

I'VE NEVER SEEN A PINE BOWED DOWN

By Carl Magg

I have seen oak trees bent with living, I've seen some birch clan dude

Set mincing by a hoyden breeze

And I have seen a cottonwood Sprawled out in rustic generosity. But I've never seen a pine bowed down To either gale or God

Or any permanent affliction.

I can remember pines as upright poets only Who listen much and gently comb the wind For answers to their queries;

Too proud to give to pain more than a sigh And too compassionate to gush aloud.

I've never seen a pine bowed down But, once I found a trunk, by lightning stripped To perpendicular defiance, like an ageless thing Still standing guard on damaged beauty all about, A rooted headstone, charred and starkA picket whom the winds respected.