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Mycene & Huggins, Licensed Truckers, have after exhaustive research made known their findings. They declare that 97% of all amateur papers are thrown in the waste basket. The others are lightly dropped. We point out with pride that Something is invariably in the first group.

Don’t Blame Me – We read ‘em all and like ‘em all. No space to comment on each one, as we would like to do. No time to set it solid and be so serious. No urge to reform the world. Just an urge to set a little type and get away from Cows and Plows. Axes and Taxes for a little while. Ajay, to me, is an escape and a refuge. Don’t expect me to spend my spare time in moaning and groaning. Give me the lighter touch. – J. L. S.

“The mother’s heart is the child’s schoolroom.” – Henry Ward Beecher

This was printed on a 6 x 9 Model and type is 8 point Roman and Roman Italic. Bold face is Franklin Gothic. If you have a press and type, why not print tonight?

Congenial

“Money is the root of all evil”
Mused blue-eyed collegian, Toots
“I certainly wish that my pocket book
Could nourish a few of its roots.”
Remelda M. Gibson

Your toast is burning, Vernon!

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Isn’t it Silly?

Up in the morning, milk the cows, feed the stock, and then, after a hard day’s work, do it all over again.

A Subdued Menu

Crushed Oats
Beaten Biscuits
Mashed Potatoes
Whipped Cream
Old Scrapbook

Cows are a noble beast
Make milk from hay and water.
They switch the tail and kick the pail
Which things they shouldn’t oughter.
Lide Kilheffer

A greedy person is like a hog
That eats nuts under the Walnut tree,
Just gobbles them down and never looks up
To see who the giver might be.
– V. H. A.

I write nine pages, almost a book,
And I tell you, now, it’s hard.
The Postman comes and the Postman goes,
And all he brings is a card.
I’m a big strong man, as the saying is,
But at times I want to brawl,
When the Postman comes, and the Postman goes,
And he don’t leave nothing at all.
Intaglio Moans

He – “So you won’t kiss and make up.”
She – “Well I won’t make up.”

A Drunkard’s Wish

Content I’d be to lie and dream,
All my life on a river bed –
If all within that stream
Were water not, but rum instead!
Clifford Palmer

Percival Hevvins promises “all the sweet you can eat.” Ain’t datsumpum?

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Edited, printed and published by John L. Shear of Smiths Basin, New York.
Member of A. A. P. A. and Lone Indian Fraternity.

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