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Cromwell Argus, Volume LXVIII, Issue 3485, 6 September 1937, Page 2

Out! “Now you’ve got to keep aw'ay from this guy,” the second whispered. “Jab him an’ get away or he’ll use his right. You got to keep that left hand out there, an’ don’t let him use his right. He’s a cinch to try to get you to slug with him, but don't do it. or he’ll get hiis right over.” “I got you,” the fighter nodded, “I’ll do just like you say, but suppose he does get his right over? What'll I do?” 'Nothin’,” the second instructed. “.I jst relax and me an’ the referee will carry you to your corner.” Lost Interest. “Well, old man,” Simpson said to his friend who had just inherited a fortuae, “I reckon I ought to offer my congratulations on your Inck, eh?” “Oh, I don’t know',” the now-rich S. sighed, “I suppose wealth has it points, hut it’s sure to rob me of one thrill, at least.” “What do you mean?” “Well, I’ll never again experience the thrill of paying the last instalevan on something.” A long w'hisp of artificial wheat was the ornament on a girl’s hat in the tramcar. It w'as placed horizontally, and it was tickling the face of a man who sat next to the w'earer. Soon it came to rest in his ear. The man took a huge clasp-knife from his pocket and began stropping it on the palm of his hand. “Oh, what are you going to do?” cried the girl. "If them oats gets in my ear again, miss,” replied the victim, “there’s going to be a harvest." The guide had taken him to the to* •of the mountain, and he gazed long at the scenery. Then he took out a notebook and commenced to write. “Pardon, m’sieu,” asked the guide, "hut what are ze notes you make?” "Oh,” said the tourist, “I’m Just Jotting down the things that have left an Indelible Impression on my mind, so that T shan't forget them.’’