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137 Works of Christopher Morley

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Interview the baby alone if possible. If, however, both parents are present, say, “It looks like its mother.” And, as an afterthought, “I think it has its father’s elbows.” If uncertain as to the infant’s sex, try some such formula as, “He looks like her grandparents,” or “She has his aunt’s sweet disposition.” When the […]

I often wonder how many present-day writers keep diaries. I wish The Bookman would conduct a questionnaire on the subject. I have a suspicion that Charley Towne keeps one–probably a grim, tragic parchment wherein that waggish soul sets down its secret musings. I dare say Louis Untermeyer has one (morocco, tooled and goffered, with gilt […]

(Fill in railroad as required) Wilt thou, Jack, have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together in so far as the —- Railroad will allow? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, take her to the movies, prevent the furnace from going out, and come home regularly on the […]

Our friend Dove Dulcet, the well-known sub-caliber poet, has recently issued a slender volume of verses called Peanut Butter. He thinks we may be interested to see the comment of the press on his book. We don’t know why he should think so, but anyway here are some of the reviews: Buffalo Lens: Mr. Dulcet […]

From a witless puppy I brought thee up: gave thee fire and food, and taught thee the self-respect of an honest dog. Hear, then, my commandments: I am thy master: thou shalt have no other masters before me. Where I go, shalt thou follow; where I abide, tarry thou also. My house is thy castle; […]

10 a.m.–Arrive at railway station. Welcomed by King and Queen. Hat on head. Umbrella left hand. Gloves on. 10:01–Right glove off (hastily) into left hand. Hat off (right hand). Umbrella hanging on left arm. 10:02–Right glove into left pocket. Hat to left hand. Shake hands with King. 10:03–Shake hands with Queen. Left glove off to […]

Fixed Ideas

Story type: Essay

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It is said that a Fixed Idea is the beginning of madness. Yet we are often worried because we have so few Fixed Ideas. We do not seem to have any really definite Theory about Life. * * * * * We find, on the other hand, that a great many of those we know […]

The feminine language consists of words placed one after another with extreme rapidity, with intervals for matinees. The purpose of this language is (1) to conceal, and (2) to induce, thought. Very often, after the use of a deal of language, a thought will appear in the speaker’s mind. This, while desirable, is by no […]

My Fellow Citizens: It is very delightful to be here, if I may be permitted to say so, and I consider it a distinguished privilege to open the discussion as to the probable weather to-morrow not only, but during the days to come. I can easily conceive that many of our forecasts will need subsequent […]

One of our favorite amusements at lunch-time is to walk down to Henry Rosa’s pastry shop, and buy a slab of cinnamon bun. Then we walk round Washington Square, musing, and gradually walking round and engulfing the cinnamon bun at the same time. It is surprising what a large circumference those buns of Henry’s have. […]

Truth

Story type: Essay

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Our mind is dreadfully active sometimes, and the other day we began to speculate on Truth. Our friends are still avoiding us. Every man knows what Truth is, but it is impossible to utter it. The face of your listener, his eyes mirthful or sorry, his eager expectance or his churlish disdain insensibly distort your […]

CHANCERY LANE, LONDON, April 28, 1639. My Dearest Mother: Matters indeed pass from badd to worse, and I fear mee that with Izaak spending all hys tyme angling along riversydes and neglecting the millinery shoppe (wych is our onlie supporte, for can bodye and soule be keppt in one by a few paltrie brace of […]

From Master Isaak Walton My Good Friends–As I have said afore time, sitting by a river’s side is the quietest and fittest place for contemplation, and being out and along the bank of Styx with my tackle this sweet April morning, it came into my humor to send a word of greeting to you American […]

Our Mothers

Story type: Essay

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When one becomes a father, then first one becomes a son. Standing by the crib of one’s own baby, with that world-old pang of compassion and protectiveness toward this so little creature that has all its course to run, the heart flies back in yearning and gratitude to those who felt just so toward one’s […]

As To Rumors

Story type: Essay

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MADRID, Jan. 17.–Nikolai Lenine was among the Russians who landed at Barcelona recently, according to newspapers here.–News item. It is rather important to understand the technique of rumors. The wise man does not scoff at them, for while they are often absurd, they are rarely baseless. People do not go about inventing rumors, except for […]

The other evening we went to dinner with a gentleman whom it pleases our fancy to call the Caliph. Now a Caliph, according to our notion, is a Haroun-al-Raschid kind of person; one who governs a large empire of hearts with a genial and whimsical sway; circulating secretly among his fellow-men, doing kindnesses often not […]

"Owd Bob"

Story type: Essay

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CHAPTER I (INTRODUCES OUR HERO) Loitering perchance on the western pavement of Madison avenue, between the streets numbered 38 and 39, and gazing with an observant eye upon the pedestrians passing southward, you would be likely to see, about 8:40 o’clock of the morning, a gentleman of remarkable presence approaching with no bird-like tread. This […]

The Key Ring

Story type: Essay

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I know a man who carries in his left-leg trouser pocket a large heavy key ring, on which there are a dozen or more keys of all shapes and sizes. There is a latchkey, and the key of his private office, and the key of his roll-top desk, and the key of his safe deposit […]

Robert Urwick, the author, was not yet so calloused by success that he was immune from flattery. And so when he received the following letter he was rather pleased: Mr. Robt. Urwick, dear sir I seen your story in this weeks Saturday Evn Cudgel, not that I can afford to buy journals of that stamp […]

I don’t know just what urchins think about; neither do they, perhaps; but presumably by the time they’re twenty-eight months old they must have formed some ideas as to what is possible and what isn’t. And therefore it seemed to the Urchin’s curators sound and advisable to take him out to the Zoo one Sunday […]