open-faced gentleman telling his friends how he
self-made himself.

COPPER-FASTENED CINCH. A good-looking widow who has made up her mind to
marry again.

COURTSHIP. Love's excursion boat just before it strikes the rough sea of
matrimony.

CROOK. A man who says nobody is straight.

[Illustration]

COOK. Something which makes up her mind to stay in the kitchen and then
loses her mind. A product of modern society who has for her motto
"Dimuendo contralto dumdum," which means, "She who cooks and runs away
will live to cook another day."

CROW. A bird politicians would eat after election if they were not so
busy drinking.

[Illustration]

CZAR. An illustration of the old proverb, "Uneasy lies the King when
falls the Ace."

* * * * *

The following letter written by the Czar to Tolstoi probably illustrates
better than any other document the pleasant and health-giving conditions
under which the Czar lives and reigns:--

In The Cellar, To-day.

Dear Tolsey:--My hands tremble a little in the armor-plated gloves, so
you must excuse bad spelling.

They have just handed me a small bunch of asbestos writing paper, and
the fountain pen has been sterilized to remove the poison, so I will
write you.

Great Scottovitch! you can never enjoy the feeling of anxiety which
gallops over me when I wake in the morning and wonder will the
hard-boiled eggs explode before I eat my breakfast.

At six o'clock this morning I was awakened by a scratching noise on the
iron quilt which covers my repose. A cold perspiration broke out on my
forehead. I buried my head in the hardwood pillows and waited the end.
Just then M. Stepupski, the Minister of the Department of Bum Shells,
walked in through the secret tunnel in the wall.

I threw the aluminum blanket off my face and cried: "What is it? What is
it?"

"Pardonoviski, Your Majesty," said M. Stepupski, "it is the cat! Whether
it is a trained cat carrying a deadly bombshell in the forward turret, I
don't know, but we will investigationiski at once."

My minister coaxed the cat away and five minutes later a loud explosion
confirmed M. Stepupski's theory that the cat's bosom contained something
more than nine lives.

It also confirmed M. Stepupski, because he has been strangely absent
ever since together with a stained-glass window and a lot of new
furniture.

Take my advice, Tolstoi, and don't be