BURIAL SERVICE FOR A NEWSPAPER JOKE

After the remains have been decently interred, the following remarks shall be uttered by the presiding humorist:

This joke has been our refuge from one generation to another: 

Before the mountains were brought forth this joke was lusty and of good repute: 

In the life of this joke a thousand years are but as yesterday.

Blessed, therefore, is this joke, which now resteth from its labors.

But most of our jokes are of little continuance:  though there be some so strong that they come to fourscore years, yet is their humor then but labor and sorrow: 

For a joke that is born of a humorist hath but a short time to live and is full of misery.  It cometh up and is cut down like a flower.  It fleeth as if it were a shadow and abideth but one edition.

It is sown in quotation, it is raised in misquotation:  We therefore commit this joke to the files of the country newspapers, where it shall circulate forever, world without end.

ADVICE TO THOSE VISITING A BABY

Interview the baby alone if possible.  If, however, both parents are present, say, “It looks like its mother.”  And, as an afterthought, “I think it has its father’s elbows.”

If uncertain as to the infant’s sex, try some such formula as, “He looks like her grandparents,” or “She has his aunt’s sweet disposition.”

When the mother only is present, your situation is critical.  Sigh deeply and admiringly, to imply that you wish you had a child like that.  Don’t commit yourself at all until she gives a lead.

When the father only is present, you may be a little reckless.  Give the father a cigar and venture, “Good luck, old man; it looks like your mother-in-law.”

If possible, find out beforehand how old the child is.  Call up the Bureau of Vital Statistics.  If it is two months old, say to the mother, “Rather large for six months, isn’t he?”

If the worst has happened and the child really does look like its father, the most tactful thing is to say, “Children change as they grow older.”  Or you may suggest that some mistake has been made at the hospital and they have brought home the wrong baby.

If left alone in the room with the baby, throw a sound-proof rug over it and escape.

ABOU BEN WOODROW

(IN PARIS)

[Illustration]

Abou Ben Woodrow (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, among the gifts piled on the floor (Making the room look like a department store), An Angel writing in a book of gold.  Now much applause had made Ben Woodrow bold And to the Presence in the room said he, “Qu’est-ce que c’est que ca que tu ecris?" Or, in plain