PAPA GIVES ORDERS

   No puzzle to that!  It's the name of the Senior class play.  This play should be the most loudly heralded, the most widely attended, and the biggest success of the season.
   Why?  Because, as it is the clothes that make the man, so is it the actors who make the play.  Let's take a look at some of the most prominent of these.
   Of course, standing for above anyone else is the brave guide, Andy Douglas from Slewgrundy (Fred Holleman), and what a guide he is.  But finally he too fell, but who wouldn't fall for the beautiful Alma Archer (Lucy Holleman).
   There's the Plato reading, Wilbur Tuttle (Rayford Allen) who has something of "paramount" importance to tell you.  Then there is the fascinating Bertrine Lyle (Mary Waltman) who has quite a reputation, and the slightly less exciting Rocco Petrone (W. A. Sprague) who Andy, well, --doesn't exactly love.
   Aunt Agatha (Margie Bell Poston) doesn't exactly propose to Andy, but--, Gerald Archer (Bates Mays) is a dashingly handsome lad who is rather likeable, though wilful and headstrong.  Flora (Frances Buckner), Gerald's handsome, aristocratic-looking sister, spurns the affections of Alvin Strong (Joe Frank Bryan) who is a good-looking earnest young man.
   Ruth Winters (Lottie Woolverton), a pretty, rather serious type of girl--we'll let you be the judges of her part.  Tessie (Elsibeth Gallaway) who is a trim, pert maid, and Mrs. Edge (Edna Mae Poston) who is a stern, uncompromising woman, are, we are sure, destined for a successful theatrical career due to their superb performance.
   If you want to see this play you had better be in Laneville, May 12, because there is an important contract to be filled on Broadway soon.

   Sam Johnson: "Miss Dent, do you know who was the smallest man in history?"
   Miss Dent: "I can't say that I do."
   Sam: "It was the Roman soldier who went to sleep on his watch."

   Sympathy is never more misplaced than when it is bestowed upon the one who harbors it.
   There are many people who deserve pity.
   But even those who deserve it most make a mistake when they begin to pity themselves.
   I have known a great many workers in trades and professions and have for a good many years watched them struggling to gain what they called success.
   But never have I seen a man or woman who was self-pitying gain anything by it.
   One of the worst and most dangerous delusions among the members of business organizations is the delusion of conspiracy.
   The person who begins to believe that his fellow workers, and particularly those over him are gathered together in some sort of league to prevent his advance might as well quit and get into some other business.
   If he stays where he is he will be continually weeping mental tears for his own plight.
   There are plenty of other people to think about, plenty of other people to be sorry for without wasting our sympathy on ourselves.
   There is constant strife and give and take in life.
   Few people get through it without at times being treated unfairly, without having real grievances.
   But it does no good to lie awake nights brooding on these things.
   Far better to spend the same amount of time looking for reasons for failures and trying to amend them.
   Aside from sickness and the misfortune of having to carry the loads of others--which is common enough--everbody has a pretty fair chance to make a living and put a little by--not much, perhaps, but something.
   And if in every life some rain must fall, in every life there is considerable sunshine.
   The person who is really interested in what he is doing and occupied with trying to do it better has no time for self-pity and no inclination toward it.
   Get into the thick of some battle, with men or the elements, and you will be so much engaged trying to win that you will never think of being sorry for yourself.
   The great things that men have produced with their brains were never born of self-sympathy.
   Let that particular canker worm begin to gnaw at your soul and you might as well quit as far as any future usefulness to yourself is concerned.

   What is the longest letter in the alphabet?  M, because it is a quarter of a mile.
   What goes around a button.  A goat.
   Have you heard the story of the empty box?  Nothing in it.
   If a 2-wheel wagon is a bicycle, and a 3-wheeled wagon is a tricycle, what would you call a 5-wheeled one?  A v-hicle, of course.
   Why do you make a mistake every time you put on your shoe?  Because you put your foot in it.
   Which is the favorite word of a woman?  The last word.