Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1913-04-24
Heard on the Streets
OF THE TOWN
BY OUR BUSY, BUSY MAN

h BY OUR BUSY, BUSY MAN
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Hats frequently show which way an
April wind is blowing.
We are told that man is made of |
dust-yet some Audubon men never
settle.
Beauty is more than skin deep in a
sausage. But who wants to be a |
sausage2
The Audubon man who talks bossy
to his wife in public has to take it all
back when they get home.
When Longfellow wrote, Dust thou
art, to dust returneth, he must have
had reference to Broadway.
A fat person can get lot of comfort |
out of worrying over how terrible it
would be if they were too thin.
This is the season when high school |
graduates accept considerable hearsay |
testimony as to what lies beyond the
Alps.
If the city sprinkles her streets with
oil every man will have to take off his
shoes before he is allowed to enter the
house.
They say Audubon has Dolly Dim
PIES" We venture the assertion that |
she is problem easier to solve than
How old is Ann2"
Shake hands with one man and he
will try to crush your fingers. Shake
with another man and you will think
you have picked up dead snake.
A young married man in this town is
taking long chances. His wife was on
his trail Sunday night and came very
near catching him with the goods.
A young burglar was fished out from
under bed the other night, on being
betrayed by a sneeze Hint to old
maids: Why not scatter snuff under the
bed?
A Guthrie Center woman refuses to
turn around in church to rubber at an
other woman's new bonnet so she will
impress others that it's sure sign she
has religion. ,,
A prominent Audubon man of the
republican faith hopes that while the
democrats are taking the tariff off of
wool they will at the same time take
off the scratch.
If there were bargain days in doctors
charges it is ten to one shot that some
Audubon women would want the whole
family sick so they could get the bene-
fit of the excursion rates.
As we understand it the college girl
will supplant the "hired girl" in the
immediate future. Oh, well, she II prob
ably get married just about the time
she has learned how to cook.
The meanest man in Audubon showed
his wife how to play poker the other
night and then dealt himself hands off
the bottom of the deck and won back
the $40 he had given her to buy a new
spring dress.
An ld-fashioned Extra girl who used
to plat her hair so it wouldn't get
mussed up when she went to bed, now
has daughter who puts her swithes in
the top dresser drawer and goes to bed
with knot about the size of a goose
egg.
We wonder what phase of the national |
pastime will be the first to be investi-
gated by the congressional committee. |
Maybe they want to know what became
of all the bases Ty Cobb stole last sea-
son, or why such scarcity of annual
passes.
As we understand it, the proposed
eight hour day law will not interfere
with the farmers or the country editors.
They win still be given the right to
work sixteen hours day. The law
makers have no desire to starve the
poor cusses.
This column has reached point
where it is getting to be one of the
most popular features of the paper.
We have decided to keep it going as
long as we hear things on the street
If you are interested in its welfare tell
us what you hear,
| When you notice man digging in
the garden very slowly, stopping often
to rest, it is always safe to say that he
is making flower beds for his wife. But
if he is working like Turk, and scarcely
stopping to take his breath, you can
bet your life he's digging worms for
bait.
1t has gotten to be unsafe for women
to go down Broadway in broad Gay
light. Recently lady with light tan
Johnny" coat was spit upon by street
loafers and all the gasoline in town
failed to remove the tobacco stain.
Shame on the men for their filthy |
habits.
A popular young lady attempting to
speak in complimentary terms of the
food prepared by her hostess said, She
cooks her meat in a thing that is three
cornered and when it is closed it is
round. Sad that one SO gifted in
minute descriptions is not employed in
one of our school rooms.
The dead can't smell the flowers you
bring, nor hear the praise you sing.
The dead can't see the tears you shed,