Chapter II: Part 2

We, the mothers, who might be glad,
But are broken at heart and bitter and sad;
O, Future Day, will you write in flame,
The reason for sin and the reason for shame?

That in all the city there seemed no room
No sweet clean place for my heart to bloom!
Oh, will you terribly tell the truth;
That the world which offers no worthy place,
For the light that shines in my baby’s face,
Offered no shelter for love and youth,
No guarding presence who understood,
My blossoming womanhood?

So I sought his arms as a bird to nest
And I ... with the warmth of a child on my breast
I ... who bartered all that I had
Am bad ... hopelessly bad!

* * * * *

The Unwritten Law

By Budd L. McKillips

“Don’t kid me, I know that I’m dyin’,
The song of my life has been sung;
I’m done and there’s no use in tryin’
To patch up a bullet torn lung.

“I’ll bet, Doc, you think I’m a tough one
Who’d fight at the stroke of the bell—
You’re right, Doc, my life’s been a rough one,
And now I am headed for hell.

“I used to be decent as any
Young man in that little mill town;
My friends in the village were many,
Until I commenced to go down.

“’T’aint long when a fellow starts hittin’
The booze till he’s gone the whole way;
And then when he thinks about quittin’,
He’s found that the devil’s to pay.

“A woman—they’re always the reason
In my case the girl was my wife;
We married—were happy a season
And then trouble entered my life.

“The man—we’d been palin’ together
Since both of us started to school;
I thought that he’d stick through all weather,
I trusted him—just like a fool.

“He lived in my home like a brother,
For months our life went like a song,
And then I began to discover,
That somethin’ in life had gone wrong.

“I watched till I thought I detected
My wife was wrapped up in his charms,
Then dropped into home unexpected,
And found her clasped tight in his arms.

“I came in the room as she kissed him,
He saw me and begged for his life;
I shot at the cur, but I missed him—
He ran and left me with my wife.

“My—wife—God! I’d found her no better
Than women who live on the street,
So diff’rent than when I first met her—
She screamed and fell dead at my feet.

“Then somethin’ inside my brain parted
Like strings on a harp stretched too tight—
Doc, that was the time I got started;
I changed in a minute that night.

“A few of my friends have stuck by me,
And assisted in lightening my load,
But the way most of them would eye me;
Soon caused me to hit for the road.

“From city to city I’ve wandered,
And month after month rolled around;
What money I had I soon squandered,
But nowhere was peace to be found.

“Sometimes for a day I’d be cheerful,
The thoughts of revenge would be still;
And then my poor brain would be clear full
Of him I had sworn I would kill.

“Well, yesterday evenin’ I met him,
He begged and he pleaded and cried
For help, but I’d promised to get him—
I choked the dang cur till he died.

“To make the job certain I drilled him
With five or six shots from my gun—
I’d killed him, yes dang him, I’d killed him!—
A cop came my way on the run.

“I started to run to the river,
Then felt a sharp pain in my breast;
And fell in the street all aquiver—
A bullet had gone through my chest.

“There’s no use to tell you the rest, Doc,
There’s nothin’ much more I can tell;
I’m happy, what I did was best, Doc—
They’re waitin’ for me down in hell.

“It feels like the room’s gettin’ colder;
It’s dark and I’m startin’ to choke,
There’s somethin’ ahold of my shoulder!
So long Doc, I’m—goin’—to—croak.”

* * * * *

Going Down

Man’s life is a vapour
And full of woes;
He cuts a caper
And down he goes,
And down, and down,
And down, and down,
And down he goes.

* * * * *

In my ear is the moan of the pines;
In my heart is the song of the sea
And I feel his wild breath on my face
As he showers his kisses on me.
And I hear the wild scream of the gulls
As they answer the call of the tide;
And I see the white sails, as they glisten
Like gems on the breast of a bride.

* * * * *

Hail to the Devil Dog

He’s a drinker and a driller,
He’s a gambler and a sport;
He’s a hard old hand at fighting,
But at work he’s rather short,
The devil likes his fighting,
And the beauty way it’s done;
He’s a cross between a Christian
And the devil’s only son.

His vice is like the most of men,
His virtue like a few,
But when you thump his metal,
You’ll find it’s ring is true;
He’s honored by the title,
Of a soldier and a man,
He’s Uncle Sammy’s nephew,
And all American.

* * * * *

A Tip For Wifey

When your husband telephones to say,
“I won’t be home to-night
Till after twelve, I’ve lots to do,”
Just say, “Dear boy all right,
I’m going out myself to-night
And won’t be in till late.”
Will he come home on time? You bet
He’ll also come home straight.

* * * * *

Have a Drink, Boys?

They were on a fast train through Arkansas (?).

Every few minutes the lady across the aisle held a bottle to her lips. The traveling man was thirsty.

“How do you do,” said he. “What have you in that bottle, home brew?”

“No,” she said, “I have consumption.”

* * * * *

Always

Face the Music

Even if it is your landlady’s daughter playing “The Maiden’s Prayer” on a square piano. Some day you might be back on your board bill.

* * * * *

You need your money
And I need mine,
If we both get ours
It will sure be fine,
But if you get yours
And hold mine, too,
What in the divil
Am I going to do?

* * * * *

In the Game of Love

In her first blossom, woman loves her lover;
In all the others, all she loves is love.
Here’s lovers two to the maiden true,
And four to the maid caressing,
But the wayward girl with the lips that curl,
Keeps twenty lovers guessing.

* * * * *

The dramatic triangle is caused by people not being on the square.

Our Movie Gossip

Los Angeles lawyers are laughing up their sleeves over the story whispered in connection with the divorce suit of Agnes Schucker, known to the screen world as Agnes Ayres, the Lasky leading lady, recently elevated to stardom through the kindness of Wallie Reid. Because of the fact that few people in California ever knew Miss Ayers under the name of Schucker, the divorce suit of Agnes Schucker versus Captain Frank R. Schucker, now with the United States Army in France, attracted little if any attention. Thus it was, the gossips report, when pretty Agnes Schucker recently entered the court room of Judge Summerfield, attired in a plain brown dress and inconspicuous black hat, there were few in the spectators’ gallery and none recognized the demure plaintiff as the Lasky star.

Tearfully Agnes’ mother told on the witness stand how she had to care for her daughter, because of the alleged failure of Captain Schucker to support Agnes. The mother’s testimony aroused the sympathy of the court and the spectators, and there was a mention of a co-respondent “Lillian.”

Everything was going lovely for Agnes until a cinema person from Hollywood recognized her in the court room and unceremoniously tipped off her identity to the judge. Hizzoner appeared peeved because Agnes put on a little cinema drama all her own in his court room, assisted by mamma’s weeps, and he threw the case out of court.

Agnes’ lawyers then reopened the case on the grounds of desertion and soon she is expecting to be traveling in single bliss. According to the gossips, Agnes came back into court in the second trial her own real movie self, and attired in a champagne colored gown trimmed in green, and wearing a lavender hat trimmed with ostrich plumes. Mother, so it is reported, explained later to the judge that she “misunderstood” the question and that she merely meant she and Agnes lived in the same house; not that she had to support her “victimized” daughter.

Incidentally, Agnes has Wallie Reid to thank for her rapid rise in filmdom, and Wallie, by the way, gives so many teas and dinners that it is said he has to have two homes in order to accommodate all the parties, the second one being somewhere in Laurel Canyon, and Agnes is rated among his favorite dinner guests.

* * * * *

We have heard a story concerning our good friend Samuel Merwin, and if it is true, we will have to give Samuel a gold medal. Sammie is out west writing for the movies, and recently attended an exclusive house party at Riverside. The story goes that on the homeward drive he was permitted to escort a beautiful English girl. About two miles had been traveled, so ’tis said, when the chauffeur reported the usual “blow-outs” and “missings” and that Merwin and the girl had to wait long weary hours during the “fixing” process.

All of the young eligibles in California have been trying to land the lovely English girl, but not Merwin, according to our bevy of Whiz Bang Bunkers, because even the most loose-tongued gossips admit the probability that during the two hours of waiting, Merwin went to sleep and let the London beauty wait alone.

Ah, romance, to where hath thou departed?

* * * * *

It wasn’t many months ago when J. Parker Reid, the director, with his star, Louise Glaum, and other members of the company, took a little trip to Tia Juana and San Diego. Of course, they went over to the Coronada Hotel for dinner and there J. Parker Reid met a bevy of society folk.

Now, you haven’t any idea how the society folk at Coronada fuss over movie people. The Coronada crowd are an idle set with plenty of money, little to do and an ambition to be considered clever. By informally hob-nobbing with the writers and players of the movie colony from Hollywood, they gain a new mental punch and are able to assume some of the glamour, always emanating from the people who do interesting things.

Louise Glaum has been conscientious in her art, you know. She is one of the really hard working, conscientious women of her profession, and we’ve heard she has some dependent relatives to support, and that she never had much schooling, but has studied very hard by herself, and that altogether her life hasn’t been an easy one.

Louise’s pictures stopped making money a year or two ago, then she became friendly with J. Parker and the tide in her fortunes seemed to change. Reid perhaps fell in love with her, at least temporarily, and she perhaps with him, and besides he raised capital to star her again. The pictures were a success financially, and all the world seemed rosy for the hard working actress.

But, that trip to Coronada. J. Parker Reid, it seems, was fussed over a wealthy Mrs. Piper. To her, a great motion picture director maybe was a new idol for adoration.

We wonder how it’s all coming out. J. Parker Reid some weeks ago made it clear to Louise that their affair was over. In June he married Mrs. Piper. Life’s a funny little game after all.

* * * * *

We are sorry to learn that some of the scandal mongers are whispering derogatory rumors anent Jack Mulhall, because of the suicide of Laura Mulhall in Hollywood while the decorations of the seventh wedding anniversary party were still on the walls of their pretty home. Those who are well acquainted with Jack declare he always was a “square shooter”; that he had a splendid disposition and as a husband was as nearly right as he knew how. He and his wife were constantly together and as far as friends could see, she had been happy with him. The scandal peddlers fail to appreciate the damage which they are doing to the future career of Mulhall, not to mention the shadow placed over the three-year-old freckle-faced boy.

* * * * *

Our Local Color

Our good friend Gemmell, of the Minnesota and International Railroad, wasn’t the railroad president who thought a gondola was a bird. In fact, the blame is laid to Mr. Casey for suggesting that his company purchase one male and one female gondola, so as to stock the city park of Brainerd, Minn., with a flock or herd or covey of little gondolas.

* * * * *

Our friend Liebst reports that since his poem, the Hoboes Convention, appeared in the Whiz Bang, he has received several letters from railroad managers requesting permission to name a few box cars after him. Oh, Fame, where is thy sting?

* * * * *

Ham Tomlin says he thinks he is growing old. He used to be able to kiss his wife 20 times a day but now it take him all day to get up nerve enough to kiss her once.

* * * * *

Don’t get jealous, boys, but I’ve just finished drinking some stuff that was strong enough to make a rabbit slap a bulldog in the face.

* * * * *

It’s a lean Jane that has no curves.

Pasture Pot Pourri

Velvet Joe Says—

_Don’t fuss with hubby about droppin’ tobacco ashes on the carpet. Them ashes keep the moths out an’ the hubby in._

* * * * *

Some folks would rather
Blow their own horns than
Listen to Sousa’s Band.

* * * * *

Greatness does not depend on size. Napoleon if he were living today would never get a job as a cop.

* * * * *

And Very Nice, Too!

A feller was engaged to a girl who was a twin. When asked how he told them apart, he said: “Well, they’re both nice girls.”

* * * * *

=_Our friend Deegan insists an Irishman dies only when an angel is needed in heaven._=

* * * * *

How can a man get a headache without brains?

* * * * *

A Family Dialogue

He—I’m not coming home tonight, dearie.

She—May I depend on that? (Oh, boy!)

* * * * *

Let’s Call It the Cockeyed Blues

My girl’s eyes are so beautiful they can’t keep from looking at each other.

* * * * *

=_Remember, boys, the turtle may be slow, but he’s always there for the soup._=

* * * * *

We could love a girl as “pretty as a picture” provided she had a good frame.

* * * * *

Honest, This Is True

I no’a fel’la named Fawcett,
Who went to his cel’la dee’pos’it,
But when he got dare,
The barrel was bare,
And “Gus” was asleep at the Fau’cet.

* * * * *

Our idea of the height of vanity is to stand in front of a looking glass when you’re asleep.

* * * * *

Pathetic, Ye Gods, Too Pathetic

An Irishman and a Scotchman were standing at a bar—and the Irishman had no money.

* * * * *

Glorious Daze

Two drunks on a train.

No. 1—“Whas sha time?”

No. 2 (pulling card case out of pocket)—“Thurshday.”

No. 1—“Thash our stashon. Letsh get off.”

* * * * *

Try This One

=_The wedding cake was heavy, but the candles made it light._=

* * * * *

=_If your girl shakes you, don’t get rattled._=

* * * * *

Something to Worry About!

A New Brunswick priest covered his eyes in shame as some girls passed him at a bathing beach.

* * * * *

We Dodged Two Yesterday

The starving pole cat leaned against the post without a cent.

* * * * *

“I’ll stick to you whate’er betide,
Though all the world may scoff.”
Thus spoke the heavy flannel shirt,
But the man said, “Aw, come off!”

* * * * *

He led her to the altar, ’twas merely tit for tat;
He led her to the altar, she led him after that.

* * * * *

He stood on the bridge at midnight,
Beneath the heaven’s great dome,
Because he was married and the jag that he carried,
Made him afraid to go home.

* * * * *

=_When I go to bed at night I snore so loud I cannot sleep. In fact, I am often compelled to go into the next room so that I may not hear myself snore._=

* * * * *

“How is the milk maid?”
He said with a bow.
“It isn’t made, Sir,
It comes from a cow.”

* * * * *

Very Versatile

We heard the story the other day about a sailor at a ship’s concert who was unable to sing as scheduled on the program, and who offered in lieu thereof to show the audience the pictures tattoed on his chest.

* * * * *

Paris Made

_A world war veteran hobbled into the hardware store the other day and ordered some “tacks.”_

_“What kind?” asked the clerk._

_“I want to use them for garters,” said the lame Vet._

* * * * *

A New Fad

(A street sign in St. Paul)

“GET YOUR SHOES SHINED INSIDE.”

* * * * *

X-Y-Z Tragedy

“Combination shot,” murmured the pool shark, as he leaned too far over the billiard table.

* * * * *

A Brief History

Whiz Bang history of the world war:

I want to go home!

When do we eat?

Who won the war? The Y.M.C.A.

Don’t stand there, soldier. This is for officers only.

If I hit, I don’t want any change.

Was that pay day or mess call?

Villa vouz promenade, M’lle?

The battle of Vim Rouge.

Mademoiselle fidelle, finee leguerre.

Hello, Statue of Liberty!

* * * * *

An Autumn Song Success

IF I HAVEN’T THE RENT THIS MONTH, DON’T YOU THINK THE LANDLORD OUGHT TO HELP ME OUT?

* * * * *

Our Sentimental Melody

_We have received several requests for copies of our original song success published several months ago entitled, “You are a million miles from nowhere when you hold her dainty hand.”_

* * * * *

What a Pity

Mike O’Reilly, of Butte, gazed mournfully at the corpse of his late friend, who had but recently become an atheist, muttering to himself, “You sure look fine, a clean shave, a new suit of clothes and a pair of white gloves on you. All dressed up—and no place to go.”

* * * * *

Zoology

When they first met he said, “a bear.”
He’d dog her footsteps everywhere.
She monkeyed with him for a year,
Although she said he was a deer.
A little horse-play hitched the two,
Now he’s the goat, it’s nothing gnu.

* * * * *

Our London Report

To a young man who stood smoking a cigar the other day there approached the elderly and impertinent reformer of meek and mild reputation.

“How many cigars do you smoke a day?” asked the meddler.

“Three,” answered the youth, as patiently as he could.

“How much do you pay for them?”

“A shilling each,” confessed the young man.

“Don’t you know, sir,” continued the sage, “that if you saved that money, by the time you are as old as I am you could own that big building over the way?”

“Do you own it?” inquired the smoker.

“No.”

“Well, I do,” replied the young man.

Japanese Bathing Beauties

BY REV. GOLIGHTLY MORRILL

Pastor People’s Church, Minneapolis, Minn.

To the religious rambler, Japan is divided into two parts—that which is inhabited by the Geisha girls, and that “cohabited” by the Yoshiwara.

I thought more of the Geisha dancers than the dance, and that wasn’t much. The word “Geisha” means accomplished one, and there are schools for their education in music and the arts. People visit the girls more for pleasure than for profit, and since they are one of the institutions of Japan, I went one night to a tea-house to see them. Making myself as comfortable as possible on the floor, a screen door was slipped aside, and in came a pretty Geisha girl who touched her head to the floor three times, sat down and looked at each one of our party. Immediately there fluttered in three more, and they made the room look like an Oriental bird cage. They sang for us in a tone that suggested an ungreased axle or a nail drawn across a piece of glass, played on the samisen and koto, which nothing but the genius of a Wagner could appreciate went through a fancy fan drill and proved themselves good entertainers, but felt embarrassed because we were not familiar and indecent. They acted serious and spoke to one another, and I asked what was the trouble. It seems they didn’t know what to make of us, as the average tourist was usually boisterous, drunk and rough.

The Yoshiwara is the red-lantern district of Japan. One night we formed a stag party to visit the Tokio Yoshiwara, but we couldn’t shake the “dears” who were as anxious to go as we were and insisted on accompanying us. Our rickshaws rolled through squares and streets and miles of mud and misery, until we came to what was in itself a “city of dreadful night,” but all ablaze with electric lights. Here were squares of theatre-looking buildings in which women, dressed in bright and fancy garb, sat by little stoves, and sullen, smiling or smoking pipes, looked out at the spectators. The government regulates this “social” as a “necessary evil,” and houses, supervises and guards the girls. In Japan it is regarded as noble and filial for a daughter to sell herself to support the father and family who may have failed financially. The same thing is done in Europe and America for wealth and social position, but differently estimated and under another name.

Here they squatted in butterfly regalia, with silk kimona, obi, glossy black hair stuck full of combs and gold pins, eyes painted and faces powdered, thrumming a little guitar, squeaking out a love-song, and making goo-goo eyes in a way that would make one smile if he could forget the hell-horror of the place. Some of the inmates do not leave until death; others return to society, which welcomes and does not disown; one may return to her home, loved and respected, but with none of the fine clothes and jewels given by her admirers during her absence. However, the place often becomes a matrimonial bureau, and the girl is met, courted and selected by some Jap as his wife. In addition to segregation, there is such a supervision that the inmates can’t leave for even an hour without the consent of the police.

Hotel life is interesting. If you are curious, you have only to wet your thumb and thrust it through the wall paper of your bed chamber to get as many views as Peeping Tom had of Lady Godiva. This hole privilege is, however, only claimed by the traveler who has no respect for the holy of holies at inn or temple.

Japan is the land of the Rising Sun—and daughter, who with the whole family will take their bath and leave the same water for you to swim in unless you set your alarm clock for a very early hour, or sit up all night to get there first. Imagine a public bath, if you can, for many homes have no bathroom, where the water by 10:00 A.M. is like a roily creek after a rain; by 3:00 P.M., yellow as the Missouri, and by bedtime like the mud geysers of the Yellowstone.

The public bath was the one thing we wanted to see and kept asking about. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, and after visiting 2,738 of the 3,000 temples in Kobe, I wanted to get “next” to a public bath. At last I discovered one and sent the guide ahead to reconnoiter. He said, “Come.” I passed the word along and the ladies came, but wished they hadn’t. We entered and I became a “looker-on” at Venus in the bath, and not one but many, who made the painted females in the Uffizi look like chromos or Mrs. Jarley’s wax works. They eyed us with an indifference that made us blush and look through our fingers for shame. With the ease that only a model for the altogether possesses, they posed before the mirrors, arranging their black hair, or poised like maids of the mist by the steam tank. Their type of beauty is different. Jap beauty is in angles, the American in curves. Nature made one with a ruler, the other with a compass. As a rule, the baths for men and women are divided by a wooden partition at the end of which sits the proprietor or his wife on the lookout. Formerly there was no privacy and the fastidious foreigners insisted that the sexes should be separated. This was accomplished by placing a bamboo rod between them, but even that is discarded now in some sections. Everybody gets into the swim, thus beautifully illustrating the proverb, “Evil to him that evil thinks.” O tempora! O mores!

One of the strongest impressions made upon me in my journey through Japan was at Mogi, a malodorous little fishing village, out from Nagasaki, with so large a smell that a blind man could easily find it by following his nose. Coleridge, the poet, whose business it was to rely on imagination rather than on fact, counted sixty well-defined and several stinks at Cologne. He would have been overpowered here and called for the help of a professor of higher mathematics to enumerate the volume and variety of odors we encountered from Nagasaki to this town.

A well made road lassoes the intervening foot-hills which are covered with cultivated fields; the peasants were all busy, the children were happy and more so when we threw them peanuts instead of “pansies” for thoughts. Men, women and oxen were carrying various loads, but the common one was a bamboo bucket affair balanced on both ends of a bamboo pole. These buckets were not filled with milk, or cheese, or vegetables, but with a substance which they had assiduously collected in accordance with the Scripture, “Gather up the fragments that nothing be lost.” I can never forget the ascent or the descent to Mogi. From rocky road, through pretty forest, by picturesque ravine, we reached the fishermen’s huts with their nets by the shore and beach where bathing mermaids can only be caught and carried home in a camera.

* * * * *

The Last Chortle

A magician having nearly finished his act without exciting any applause, gave his best stunts, expecting to get a rise out of the audience, but without result. He then advised that he had saved his very best trick for the last and asked all who wanted to see the devil to raise their hands. Receiving a hearty response, he told them to go to hell, leaving the stage in much haste.

* * * * *

Back to Childhood Days

I visited an insane hospital at Oshkosh, Wis., and the keeper took me through. Up on the second floor we passed down a long hall. At the end there was a heavily padded and ironed cell. The keeper said to me, “The man in this cell is the most violent and strongest man we have here.” I looked at him. He was of Herculean build.

As we turned away, there was an awful crash and the front of the cell was thrown out in the hall. I ran down the hall and the big fellow right after me. I jumped out of a window at the end of the hall and he jumped right after me. I ran around the hospital and he after me. The attendant stuck his head out of a window and said to me “Why don’t you run?” I said, “Do you think I am trying to throw this race?”

I ran across a field and he was right after me. I could hear his footsteps behind me. I ran into a plowed field and that slowed me up. He was gaining on me. Finally he got near to me and he reached out and slapped me on the back and said, “Tag, you’re it.”

* * * * *

How’s This One?

Jiggs fell into a big vat of turpentine over at the paint factory.

Did it hurt him?

Don’t know, they haven’t caught him yet.

* * * * *

Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting a few drops on yourself.

Our Rural Mail Box

=_Petie L. Arsony_=—The reason why they feed convicts coarse food is to keep their blood pure, so that they won’t “break out.”

* * * * *

=_Johnnie L._=—A divorce suit should always be cleaned before being pressed.

* * * * *

=_Sweet Sixteen_=—You’re wrong. Woman is known not by the company she keeps, but by the company she does not keep. You did right in not keeping Johnnie’s company.

* * * * *

=_B. Good Tome_=—No, B, all chickens do not use fowl language, but I have met several who could swear quite fluently.

* * * * *

The Vanguard

’Tis weary watching wave by wave,
But still the tide sweeps onward;
We build like corals, grave by grave
But pave a path that’s sunward.

We’re beaten back in many a fray,
But newer strength we borrow;
And where the vanguard camps to-day,
The rear shall camp tomorrow.

* * * * *

Ghouls, Take Note

(From San Francisco Chronicle.)

Wanted—Second hand Coffin or couch casket. Box 4050 Chronicle.

* * * * *

Drexerd Pulls This One

He—Let’s go to the dance tonight.

She—Why do you like to dance so much?

He—Oh, for many reasons—I can put my arm around you, draw you up close, feel your soft cheek against mine, and—

She—That will do! Let’s stay at home and make believe we went to the dance.

* * * * *

Jes’ a Jester Jest

Some people say: “Get thee behind me, Satan and push me along.”

* * * * *

What Ho?

First Lunch Hound—“Well, old strawberry, howsa boy? I just had a plate of oxtail soup and feel bully.”

Second Counter Fiend—“Nothing to it, old watermelon. I just had a plate of hash and feel like everything.”

* * * * *

_He knew that she would thank him not,_
_He cared not for her scorn;_
_He offered her his street car seat,_
_To keep her off his corn._

* * * * *

Our Harnessed Bulls

First Cop—Say, did you get that fellow’s number?

Second Cop—No, he was going too fast.

Say, but wasn’t that a fine looking dame in the back seat?

Yep, wasn’t she though!

Musings of A Bachelor

Between two women of equal beauty, always pick the one who closes her eyes when she kisses you. She’s not so likely to think you want to marry her.

The proof that men do not understand women is that they love them. The proof that women =_do_= understand men is that they marry them.

The first kiss is always stolen by the man. And the last one is always begged by the woman.

The length of a woman’s kiss nearly always depends upon the breadth of her imagination.

To remain a woman’s ideal a man must die a bachelor.

A woman’s idea of Hell—“Nobody loves me and my clothes don’t fit.”

If there were only three women left in the world, two of them would immediately convene a court-martial to try the other one.

Men frequently marry to keep other men from getting the woman they desire. They are not always successful.

The final definition of love is something that gives pain without hurting.

Self-respect means a comfortable sense that you have not been found out.

When a man commits a sin, he says, “How shall I conceal this?” When a woman commits a sin she says, “How can I let my friends know of this without bragging?”

The theory that really to know two women one must introduce them is ridiculous. It often results in a divorce.

A woman’s head is not always turned by flattery; sometimes its peroxide.

When a woman starts an idle rumor, it at once ceases to be idle.

One beauty of being single is that it’s a dreadfully thrilling experience until one’s wife finds it out.

It must be dreadful to meet at dinner the man who ran away with one’s wife. It places one under =_such_= an obligation!

If there were only one bachelor in the world, every married woman would still think she made a mistake when she married her husband.

Experience in man is something which is brought with the tears of plain women and the kisses of pretty ones.

Love without respect is an angel with but one wing.

To make marriage perfect, the husband should be deaf and the wife blind.

* * * * *

Life is a river. Men are the boats. Women are the sandbars.

* * * * *

Fashion note: Cellar steps are worn very much this year.

* * * * *

Our Army Daze

About 2:00 o’clock one morning while making the rounds as Officer of the Day, I was halted by a sentry on post. After giving the pass word and being duly recognized, I asked for his special orders. You may imagine my surprise as he stood at port arms and said:

“Sir (hic), my special orders are:
This post extends from tank to tank;
Salute all officers according to rank;
Take charge of all the shot and shell,
And all the water in the (hic) well,
And all the wood that’s in the yard,—
In case of fire, alarm the guard.
These are the orders I received
From the gosh darned sentry I relieved.
If this isn’t so, may I drop dead;
I’ve only had two hours in bed,
(Hic) Sir (hic).”

* * * * *

Blankety Blank Verse

By William Sanford

My wife came in very late last night,
Explaining that she had spent the evening
With her friend Cora.
But she did not look me in the face
When she said it.
But what could I say,
Coming in but a moment before,
After having spent the evening
Myself
With Cora.

* * * * *

Even a fish won’t get caught—if it keeps its mouth shut.

Larry Turn the Crank

For the past year or so a flock of these motion picture fellows have been coming to see Ye Editor with propositions to put out a Motion Picture Edition of this little journal of wit, humor and filosophy, and now it looks like we would succumb to these offers.

At this writing, our Hollywood representative, Mr. Morrison B. Egbert, is negotiating with film distributors for the putting on the screens of up to eight thousand theaters weekly the

Screen Edition

OF

Captain Billy’s

WHIZ BANG

The film will contain gems of early issues and new material not published in current issues. Jokes, jests, jingles, advice to the lovelorn from Captain Billy, Mail Bag, Pot Pourri and other delectable offerings will be filmed.

As this magazine reaches the hands of YOU, the Reader, the weekly film should be ready for booking. If your theater doesn’t show it, ask the manager to get busy and climb on our band wagon. In conclusion, as our friend K. C. B. would remark—

I Thank You.

Captain Billy

_Our Winter Annual_

In addition to republication of gems of earlier issues of Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang, the first complete Winter Annual of this great family journal will contain a large variety of brand new jokes, jests, jingles, pot pourri, stories, and smokehouse poetry. This book, Pedigreed Follies of 1921-22, will contain four times as much reading matter as the regular issue of the Whiz Bang and will sell for one dollar per copy. It will be a book which will be cherished by the readers for years to come, and will contain the greatest collection of red-blooded poetry yet put in print. Included in the list will be:

Johnnie and Frankie, The Face on the Barroom Floor, The
Shooting of Dan McGrew, The Harpy, Lasca (in full), The Girl
in the Blue Velvet Band, Langdon Smith’s “Evolution,” Advice
to Men, Advice to Women, Our Own Fairy Queen, Stunning Percy
LaDue, Parody on Kipling’s “The Ladies,” Toledo Slim.

Advance orders are now being received and will be mailed in the order in which they are received. Tear off the attached blank and mail to us today with your check, money order or stamps.

Whiz Bang,
Robbinsdale, Minnesota.

Gentlemen:

Enclosed is check, money order or stamps for $1.00 for which
please send me the Winter Annual of Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang,
“Pedigreed Follies of 1921-22.”

Name..............................................

Address...........................................

Everywhere!

Whiz Bang is on sale at all leading hotels, news stands, 25 cents single copies; on trains 30 cents, or may be ordered direct from the publisher at 25 cents single copies; two-fifty a year.