The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 9, 1900, Page 7

THE DOING THE SPLIT. Rootie; let's rush down the hill and trip up that old duffer!” SUNDAY CAL L. { “Just to think!" said young Mrs. Tighe, “Dave will be home in a few minutes and there is nothing to eat in the house. I sent an order to that butcher this morn- ing. How stupid some people are!” Then she went out in the hallway to the telephone. Connections were made and a deep masculine voice called: llHello!'l Mrs. Tighe tiptoed and responded: “Where are those ribs?’ ' “What ribs?”. “The ribs I ordered this morning.” “Did you order any ribs?”’ “Yes, and you promised to send them in less than am hour. Here it is—" *““Who is this?"’ “Mrs. Tighe, 920 Indiana avenue.” “One moment, please, and I will In- quire.” In a few moments he was back, “Boss says he didn't receive any order from you.” “He did. He took the order himself.”” “Strange! How many ribs was it, ma- dame?” “Seven or eight, I guess = “Well, I doa't know what to do about “But I want the ribs for dinner. Dave is coming now.” “For dinner?’ “Certainly. For dinner.” ““Madame, what do you think this place is? “The butcher’s, of course.” “No, madame, this is an umbrella fac- tory.”"—Chicago News. —_————— ——— SMART, BUT .INDISCREET. ”» Boss—I don't know whether to dis- { charge that new boy or raise his salary. Manager—What has he been doing? Boss—He rushed into my private office this morning 2nd told me there was a man downstairs who would like to see | me. Manager—Who was it? Boss—A blind man.—London Tit-Bits. PREPARATORY. PR— Ethel-Mamma, don't you think women should know how to cook so that they | may be able to leok after their husband’s | digestion when they marry? Mamma-—Certainly, dear. Ethel--Mayn’'t 1 go to the kitchen, then, and practice making butter scotch?™— Brooklyn Life. i HIS REDEEMING QUALITY. Judge—You were begging on the public streets and yet you had $20 in your pocket. Prisoner—Yes, jedge, { industrious as some, y'r honor, but I'm no spendthrift.—New York Weekly. A LONG TIME BETWEEN ELEC- TIONS. { Citizen—Dear me, how short the years get as a man grows older. { Officeseeker—Oh, ought to go Journal. say, old man, you into politics.—Indianapolis | THE DAILY GRIND, - “l am pretty tired “to-night,” com- plained the organ grinder’'s monkey. “I feel all played out myself,” said the | organ. VERY LIKELY. Householder—Do you know I sometimes think that gas meter cheats me? Gasman—Well, what of it? ‘Wouldn’'t you cheat the meter if you knew how to do it?—Boston Transcript. 1 pifl;f;fi; kim}s of Ribs. | I may not be asi AN INCENTIVLE, e it et i Visitor—Does your mamma give you anything for being a good bey? Willie—No, ma’am; but she gives me a lickin’ when I ain’e. B T AT A TR T AT AT A OA T @ ALWAYS MADE THAT WAY. “Will you meet me here at 4 o'clock?” asked the office cat. “I don’t think I can,” replied the clock? “How about half past 6, then?” “Oh, I can make that, hands down.”— Philadelphia Press. MAKES A DIFFERENCE. B “Don’t you dare kiss me,’ warningiy. “Why, I wasn't thinking of such a thing,” he said. “Well, I was,” she replied firmly.—An- ‘swers. she said, A DOUBLE BLOW, ““Yes, we had quite a blowout at our house early this morning.” ‘“Peculiar time for it.” ‘‘Yes; the new hired girl blew out the gas in the gas stove and the gas blew out the side of the kitchen.” —Cleveland Plain Dealer. A MASTERPIECE. “Confidentially,” said the statesman, “I wrote that plank in the platform. “I congratulate you,” said his friend, heartily. “I read it over three times, and I'm blest if it commits the party to any- thing!"—Puck. O < ¥R TAHTIUTH A KRR R R R AT, RS R SR @ VACA"I‘ION'S DONE. “By gum! Everything does come to the man who waits!"” [ * PUTTING OFF DUNS. E The gentleman who lodges above appears very attentive to you. Belila—Ah, yes; T am even engaged to t yet I am tortured with doubt. 1at I knew whether he loves me If alone! 3ut why marry you otherwise? Bella—Well, to tell the truth, he owes my mother six months’ rent.—St Louis Giobe-Democrat. THE LOVELY POTTERS. “The “I she all the Cle Potters have a new runabout.”™ uld think those Potter girls were Y n could stand.”— runabouts they eland Plain Dealer. in the world should hei RO DA OE O R T AT ORE T f O OO OO OR @ WELL SUPPLIED. “Bredderin,” remarked Deacon Dark- leigh, “‘some ob de youngeh members ob | the congregashun hab been makin’ fun | ob de size ob ouah belubbed pastoah’s | feet. I wants ter teil dem dat ouah pas- toah’s is strickly in aceohd wif Solomon, who said: “Wif all dy gittin’, git endah- ! standin’.”—Baltimore American. | THE POET. “Sir,” said the Long Haired One indig- nantly to the editor, “the poet is born.” “Oh, is he?"’ retorted the editor. “Well, I'm darned sorry he is. But this isn’t the place where they take in the birth no- tices. You go on downstairs to the busi- ness office.””—Detroit Free Press. Back from (he farms and hills and dales, Back from the valleys and back frem the vales, Back to school and the comrades there, Back to the playground’s noise and glare. Come the children, bronzed and tanned, Back from the surf and the ocean strand; Books are open—school’s begun, Work bhard now—vacation’s done. —————————————— ——————————————————————— e —————————————————————— e —— SO —t. et ettt et e