A newspaper publisher, wishing to please his readers, asked for suggestions.

"How can I make mine the ideal newspaper?" he inquired.

"Cut out the crimes, the murders, the sensational divorce reports," said the nice people.

"Cut out the accidents, the railway and steamship disasters," said the people who "couldn't bear" to read such things.

"Cut out the politics," said the old-fashioned woman, "I don't understand it, and haven't time for it."

"Cut out the League of Nations and all that heavy stuff," yawned the flappers of both sexes. "What's it all about, anyway?"

"Cut out, the so-called funny pictures," said the careful mother. "Such pictures aren't funny, and they're bad, very bad, for children."

"Cut out the ponderous editorials," snapped the man who merely scans the headlines. "Nobody reads 'em nowadays."

"Cut out the woman's page," said the female with the strong mind. "It's mushy, trashy, trivial; an insult to our sex."

"Cut out sports and theatres," said the intellectual. "Both are bad influences, and both have received altogether too much notice."

"Cut out--" began another and still another, but the publisher beat them to it.

"Stop, all of you," he cried. "On second thought I have decided to cut out myself. It is no use trying to publish the ideal newspaper until I come across the ideal reader."

Saying which, he shut up shop and went into the wholesale saxophone business for rest.  --Arthur H. Folwell, in Leslie's Weekly