curate
pleasantly, "go to hell, only don't make quite so much fuss about it."

A Massachusetts Senator was back home, looking after his political
fences, and was asking the minister about some of his old
acquaintances.

"How's old Mr. Jones?" he inquired. "Will I be likely to see him
again?"

"You'll never see Mr. Jones again," said the minister. "Mr Jones has
gone to heaven."

"Now, boys," said the teacher in the juvenile Sunday-school class,
"our lesson today teaches us that if we are good while here on earth,
when we die we will go to a place of everlasting bliss. But suppose we
are bad, then what will become of us?"

"We'll go to a place of everlasting blister," promptly answered the
small boy at the pedal extremity of the class.

"I wish, reverend father," said Curran to Father O'Leary, "that you
were St. Peter, and had the keys of heaven, because then you could let
me in."

"By my honor and conscience," replied O'Leary, "it would be better for
you that I had the keys of the other place, for then I could let you
out."

FUTURIST ART

_Futurist Art_

Which one might worship--if he should wish--without breaking the
second commandment because truly there is nothing like it "in the
heavens above, in the earth beneath or in the waters under the earth."

A painter of the "impressionist" school is now confined in a lunatic
asylum. To all persons who visit him he says, "Look here; this is the
latest masterpiece of my composition." They look, and see nothing but
an expanse of bare canvas. They ask, "What does that represent?"

"That? Why, that represents the passage of the Jews through the Red
Sea."

"Beg pardon, but where is the sea?"

"It has been driven back."

"And where are the Jews?"

"They have crossed over."

"And the Egyptians?"

"Will be here soon. That's the sort of painting I like; simple,
suggestive, and unpretentious."

The artist dipped his brush in a bucket of paint and wiped it across
the canvas several times horizontally. When he had done this he took
his labor in hand and carefully placed it in an elaborate frame.

"What's the idea?" his boon companion inquired.

"Impressionistic study."

"Do you mean to tell me that is a finished painting?"

"Certainly."

"What are you going to call it?"

"A village street as seen from the rear seat of a motorcycle."

GAMBLING

"Look, mother," said Bobbie, exhibiting a handful of marbles, "I won
all those f