Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder… Or

That Is Ever The Way. Tis All Jealousy To The Bride And Good Wishes To The Corpse.

They Have Long Lost Count Of The Days, But Always If They Want To Do Anything Special They Say This Is Saturday Night, And Then They Do It.

She Was A Lovely Lady, With A Romantic Mind And Such A Sweet Mocking Mouth. Her Romantic Mind Was Like The Tiny Boxes, One Within The Other, That Come From The Puzzling East, However Many You Discover There Is Always One More; And Her Sweet Mocking Mouth Had One Kiss On It That Wendy Could Never Get, Though There It Was, Perfectly Conspicuous In The Right-hand Corner.

Off We Skip Like The Most Heartless Things In The World, Which Is What Children Are, But So Attractive; And We Have An Entirely Selfish Time, And Then When We Have Need Of Special Attention We Nobly Return For It, Confident That We Shall Be Rewarded Instead Of Smacked.

Times Have Changed Since A Certain Author Was Executed For Murdering His Publisher. They Say That When The Author Was On The Scaffold He Said Good-bye To The Minister And To The Reporters, And Then He Saw Some Publishers Sitting In The Front Row Below, And To Them He Did Not Say Good-bye. He Said Instead, "i'll See You Again."