We Can Have a Grand Good Time in the Grove
The ocean’s inmost heart is pure. In the hope
of receiving benefits from a change in climate,
a shower of oysters and fish chowder daily
licks the shore, gross with sand. The contagion
of investigation is spreading. A disciple of
Heister Clymer attached himself to “Dan Mace,”
master reinsman of the turf. He insisted there
were iniquities that would cause a mantle
of shame, and is now in jail. Trashy newspapers
tell about it, issued every evening in size
a seven-column folio. Their exploits on the turf
can be preserved for future reference. New
comers would take great pleasure in hearing
Lady Thorn made a cripple for life.
Uncle Jake, the Miller
It pays to advertise. Every person may come,
and more too. Gussie Telfair, in readiness
to do all kinds of towing, takes pleasure in
announcing a Harvest Feast of the fourth degree.
Splendid lager, by the bottle or gallon. Out
buildings and orchard. And shoulders, always
on hand. Owing to the absence of Lord Derby,
human happiness is within reach of every
inhabitant, if it takes us all summer—
or somewhere near it. Dom Pedro detained by
a bovine threatens to inaugurate a contest.
American competition is most desirable.
Turn the heathens out of the pesthouse today,
adding greatly to the comfort of its guests.
Corbello in reply, with such force as to break
his ribs, points out that eight kings, three tens
to save nine fair ladies for one sick knave
are apt to give bad odor. These celebrated plows
want to thrive in business. Gold reichsmarks
zealously cooperate. The intercourse between
the two, hitherto spasmodic and uncertain,
will soon be all fair sailing. We congratulate
you and yours, Charley, beyond the depths
of humanitarians to fathom. A brides-cake
was sent to the steamer. As to the whereabouts
of the bride “deponent hath nothing to say.”
Yours truly, boys, a neat and newsy little sheet
giving water under test a milky appearance.
Meeting of Distinguished Scientists
A fashionably dressed lady, in passing
the party by, attracted general attention through
her plain vent thimble covers, in want of
doors and windows. The sight of that bright
old quarter led to the recovery of the body,
hoisted by a pile driver on a projecting shaft.
German sausage factory.
The Solons tussled with the subject. Holding
Lew to be the boss, thus propounded him:
"Lew, what is that, anyhow?" The boys are
enjoying their otium cum dignitate, saturated in
the juice of tobacco stems. "Well, boys, I am
surprised—your education was hope and charity
wasted." Chorus of all: "No!"
"Don't you know what that is? The remedy
is this: put in two weeks steady, faithful
work. Invitations have been sent to the prominent
scientific men of Europe, judiciously laid out
at some good spawning grounds. As a hatching
house, nicely puff your hair, all there is of it,
and prevent fraud and rascality."
Stephen Kagarise 