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The distinguished blonde
actress had a large photograph of Wordsworth
prominently
displayed in her dressing-room.
A friend regarded the picture with some
surprise, and remarked:
"I see you are an admirer of Wordsworth."
"Who's Wordsworth?" demanded the blonde actress.
"Why, that's his picture," was the answer, as the friend pointed.
"That's Wordsworth, the poet."
The actress regarded the photograph with a new interest.
"Is that old file a poet?" she exclaimed in astonishment. "I got him
for
a study in wrinkles." |
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The
blonde's little boy, sent to the butcher shop, delivered this
message:
"Ma says to send her another ox-tail, please, an' ma says the last
one
was very nice, an' ma says she wants another off the same ox!" |
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Blonde's
little boy Willie came home in a sad state. He had a black eye and
numerous
scratches and contusions, and his clothes were a sight. His mother was
horrified at the spectacle presented by her darling. There were tears
in
her eyes as she addressed him rebukingly:
"Oh, Willie, Willie! How often have I told you not to play with that
naughty neighbor's boy!"
Little Willie regarded his mother with an expression of deepest
disgust.
"Say, ma," he objected, "do I look as if I had been playing with
anybody?" |
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