“Oh, we called about the flat advertised.”

“Well, I did mean to let it, but since I’ve read the house-agent’s description of it, I really feel I can’t part with it.”

Classified ad manager—­“Your advertisement begins:  ’Wanted:  Silent Partner.’”

Advertiser—­“Yes, that’s right.”

Classified ad manager—­“Do you want this placed under Business
Opportunities or Matrimony?”

“Say, Jim,” said the friend of the taxicab-driver, standing in front of the vehicle, “there’s a purse lying on the floor of your car.”

The driver looked carefully around and then whispered:  “Sometimes when business is bad I put it there and leave the door open.  It’s empty, but you’ve no idea how many people’ll jump in for a short drive when they see it.”

Recently the L. P. Ross Shoe Company inserted an advertisement in a Rochester paper for vampers and closers-up.  Among the answers received was one from a young lady who signed herself Miss Mabelle Jones and gave her address as General Delivery, Rochester.  The letter said in part: 

“Gentlemen:  I have seen your ad for vampires and close-ups and I would like the job.  I have been studying to vamp for several years and have been practising eye work for a long while.  My gentlemen friends tell me that I have the other movie vamps backed off the map.  I have made a particular study of Theda Bara.  I don’t know much about close-ups, but suppose I could learn.  I have a good form, swell brown eyes, and a fine complexion.”

“If you would like, I will call and show you what I can do.  I have
been looking for a vampire job, but never saw no ads in the papers
before.” 
                                “Yours,”
                                         “Mabelle Jones.”

“P.  S.—­Do you furnish clothes for your vampires?  I have just come to Rochester and so I haven’t got many clothes.”—­Rochester Herald.

His Little Ad

There was a man in our town
And he was wondrous wise;
He swore (it was his policy)
He would not advertise. 
But one day he did advertise,
And thereby hangs a tail,
The “ad” was set in quite small type,
And headed “Sheriff’s Sale.”

Burton Holmes, the lecturer, had an interesting experience, while in London.  He told some Washington friends a day or two ago that when he visited the theater where he was to deliver his travelogue he decided that the entrance to the theater was rather dingy and that there should be more display of his attraction.

Accordingly, he suggested to the manager of the house that the front be brightened up at night by electrical signs, one row of lights spelling his name “Burton” and another row of lights spelling the name “Holmes.”

The manager told him it was too much of an innovation for him to authorize and referred him to the owner of the theater.  Mr. Holmes traveled several hours into the country to consult with the owner, who referred him to his agent in the city.  The agent in turn sent Mr. Holmes to the janitor of the theater.