One librarian has the following entries in a card catalog: Lead Poisoning Do, Kindly Light. A distinguished librarian is a good follower of Chesterton. He says: "To my way of thinking, a great librarian must have a clear head, a strong hand and, above all, a great heart. Such shall be greatest among librarians; and when I look into the future, I am inclined to think that most of the men who will achieve this greatness will be women." Many catalogers append notes to the main entries of their catalogs. Here are two: An Ideal Husband: Essentially a work of fiction, and presumably written by a woman (unmarried). Aspects of Home Rule: Political, not domestic. In a branch library a reader asked for The Girl He Married (by James Grant.) This happened to be out, and the assistant was requested to select a similar book. Presumably he was a benedict, for he returned triumphantly with His Better Half (by George Griffith). "Have you A Joy Forever?" inquired a lady borrower. "No," replied the assistant librarian after referring to the stock. "Dear me, how tiresome," said the lady; "have you Praed?" "Yes, madam, but it isn't any good," was the prompt reply. LIFELife's an aquatic meet—some swim, some dive, some back water, some float and the rest—sink. I count life just a stuff To try the soul's strength on. —Robert Browning. May you live as long as you like, And have what you like as long as you live. "Live, while you live," the epicure would say, "And seize the pleasures of the present day;" "Live, while you live," the sacred Preacher cries, "And give to God each moment as it flies." "Lord, in my views let both united be; I live in pleasure, when I live to Thee." —Philip Doddridge. This world that we're a-livin' in Is mighty hard to beat, For you get a thorn with every rose— But ain't the roses sweet! Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.—Benjamin Franklin. LISPING"Have you lost another tooth, Bethesda?" asked auntie, who noticed an unusual lisp. "Yes'm," replied the four-year-old, "and I limp now when I talk." LOST AND FOUND"I ain't losing any faith in human nature," said Uncle Eben, "but I kain't he'p noticin' dat dere's allus a heap mo' ahticles advertised 'Lost' dan dar is 'Found.'" "What were you in for?" asked the friend. "I found a horse." "Found a horse? Nonsense! They wouldn't jug you for finding a horse." "Well, but you see I found him before the owner lost him." "Party that lost purse containing twenty dollars need worry no longer—it has been found."—Brooklyn Life. A lawyer having offices in a large office building recently lost a cuff-link, one of a pair that he greatly prized. Being absolutely certain that he had dropped the link somewhere in the building he posted this notice: "Lost. A gold cuff-link. The owner, William Ward, will deeply appreciate its immediate return." That afternoon, on passing the door whereon this notice was posted, what were the feelings of the lawyer to observe that appended thereto were these lines: "The finder of the missing cuff-link would deem it a great favor if the owner would kindly lose the other link." CHINAMAN—"You tellee me where railroad depot?" CITIZEN—"What's the matter, John? Lost?" CHINAMAN—"No! me here. Depot lost." LOVELove is an insane desire on the part of a chump to pay a woman's board-bill for life. MR. SLIMPURSE—"But why do you insist that our daughter should marry a man whom she does not like? You married for love, didn't you?" MRS. SLIMPURSE—"Yes; but that is no reason why I should let our daughter make the same blunder." MAUDE—"Jack is telling around that you are worth your weight in gold." ETHEL—"The foolish boy. Who is he telling it to?" MAUDE—"His creditors." RICH MAN—"Would you love my daughter just as much if she had no money?" SUITOR—"Why, certainly!" RICH MAN—"That's sufficient. I don't want any idiots in this family." 'Tis better to have lived and loved Than never to have lived at all. —Judge. May we have those in our arms that we love in our hearts. Here's to love, the only fire against which there is no insurance. Here's to those that I love; Here's to those who love me; Here's to those who love those that I love. Here's to those who love those who love me. It is best to love wisely, no doubt; but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.—Thackeray. Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, Hast thou more of pain or pleasure! * * * * * * * * * Endless torments dwell about thee: Yet who would live, and live without thee! —Addison. O, love, love, love! Love is like a dizziness; It winna let a poor body Gang about his biziness! —Hogg. Let the man who does not wish to be idle, fall in love.—Ovid. LOYALTYJenkins, a newly wedded suburbanite, kissed his wife goodby the other morning, and, telling her he would be home at six o'clock that evening, got into his auto and started for town. At six o'clock no hubby had appeared, and the little wife began to get nervous. When the hour of midnight arrived she could bear the suspense no longer, so she aroused her father and sent him off to the telegraph office with six telegrams to as many brother Elks living in town, asking each if her husband was stopping with him overnight. Morning came, and the frantic wife had received no intelligence of the missing man. As dawn appeared, a farm wagon containing a farmer and the derelict husband drove up to the house, while behind the wagon trailed the broken-down auto. Almost simultaneously came a messenger boy with an answer to one of the telegrams, followed at intervals by five others. All of them read: "Yes, John is spending the night with me."—Bush Phillips. BOY—"Come quick, there's a man been fighting my father more'n half an hour." POLICEMAN—"Why didn't you tell me before?" BOY—"'Cause father was getting the best of it till a few minutes ago." LUCKSome people are so fond of ill-luck that they run half-way to meet it.—Douglas Jerrold. O, once in each man's life, at least, Good luck knocks at his door; And wit to seize the flitting guest Need never hunger more. But while the loitering idler waits Good luck beside his fire, The bold heart storms at fortunes gates, And conquers its desire. —Lewis J. Bates. "Tommy," said his brother, "you're a regular little glutton. How can you eat so much?" "Don't know; it's just good luck," replied the youngster. A negro who was having one misfortune after another said he was having as bad luck as the man with only a fork when it was raining soup. See also Windfalls. MAINEThe Governor of Maine was at the school and was telling the pupils what the people of different states were called. "Now," he said, "the people from Indiana are called 'Hoosiers'; the people from North Carolina 'Tar Heels'; the people from Michigan we know as 'Michiganders.' Now, what little boy or girl can tell me what the people of Maine are called?" "I know," said a little girl. "Well, what are we called?" asked the Governor. "Maniacs." MAKING GOOD"What's become ob dat little chameleon Mandy had?" inquired Rufus. "Oh, de fool chile done lost him," replied Zeke. "She wuz playin' wif him one day, puttin' him on red to see him turn red, an' on blue to see him turn blue, an' on green to see him turn green, an' so on. Den de fool gal, not satisfied wif lettin' well enough alone, went an' put him on a plaid, an' de poor little thing went an' bust himself tryin' to make good." See also Success. MALARIAThe physician had taken his patient's pulse and temperature, and proceeded to ask the usual questions. "It—er—seems," said he, regarding the unfortunate with scientific interest, "that the attacks of fever and the chills appear on alternate days. Do you think—is it your opinion—that they have, so to speak, decreased in violence, if I may use that word?" The patient smiled feebly. "Doc," said he, "on fever days my head's so hot I can't think, and on ague days I shake so I can't hold an opinion." MARKS(WO)MANSHIPAn Irishman who, with his wife, is employed on a truck-farm in New Jersey, recently found himself in a bad predicament, when, in attempting to evade the onslaughts of a savage dog, assistance came in the shape of his wife. When the woman came up, the dog had fastened his teeth in the calf of her husband's leg and was holding on for dear life. Seizing a stone in the road, the Irishman's wife was about to hurl it, when the husband, with wonderful presence of mind, shouted: "Mary! Mary! Don't throw the stone at the dog! throw it at me!" Mary had a little lamb, It's fleece was gone in spots, For Mary fired her father's gun, And lamby caught the shots! —Columbia Jester. MARRIAGEMRS. QUACKENNESS—"Am yo' daughtar happily mar'd, Sistah Sagg?" MRS. SAGG—"She sho' is! Bless goodness she's done got a husband dat's skeered to death of her!" "Where am I?" the invalid exclaimed, waking from the long delirium of fever and feeling the comfort that loving hands had supplied. "Where am I—in heaven?" "No, dear," cooed his wife; "I am still with you." Archbishop Ryan was visiting a small parish in a mining district one day for the purpose of administering confirmation, and asked one nervous little girl what matrimony is. "It is a state of terrible torment which those who enter are compelled to undergo for a time to prepare them for a brighter and better world," she said. "No, no," remonstrated her rector; "that isn't matrimony: that's the definition of purgatory." "Leave her alone," said the Archbishop; "maybe she is right. What do you and I know about it?" "Was Helen's marriage a success?" "Goodness, yes. Why, she is going to marry a nobleman on the alimony."—Judge. JENNIE—"What makes George such a pessimist?" JACK—"Well, he's been married three times—once for love, once for money and the last time for a home." Matrimony is the root of all evil. One day Mary, the charwoman, reported for service with a black eye. "Why, Mary," said her sympathetic mistress, "what a bad eye you have!" "Yes'm." "Well, there's one consolation. It might have been worse." "Yes'm." "You might have had both of them hurt." "Yes'm. Or worse'n that: I might not ha' been married at all." A wife placed upon her husband's tombstone: "He had been married forty years and was prepared to die." "I can take a hundred words a minute," said the stenographer. "I often take more than that," said the prospective employer; "but then I have to, I'm married." A man and his wife were airing their troubles on the sidewalk one Saturday evening when a good Samaritan intervened. "See here, my man," he protested, "this sort of thing won't do." "What business is it of yours, I'd like to know," snarled the man, turning from his wife. "It's only my business in so far as I can be of help in settling this dispute," answered the Samaritan mildly. "This ain't no dispute," growled the man. "No dispute! But, my dear friend—" "I tell you it ain't no dispute," insisted the man. "She"—jerking his thumb toward the woman—"thinks she ain't goin to get my week's wages, and I know darn well she ain't. Where's the dispute in that?" HIS BETTER HALF—"I think it's time we got Lizzie married and settled down, Alfred. She will be twenty-eight next week you know." HER LESSER HALF—"Oh, don't hurry, my dear. Better wait till the right sort of man comes along." HIS BETTER HALF—"But why wait? I didn't!" O'Flanagan came home one night with a deep band of black crape around his hat. "Why, Mike!" exclaimed his wife. "What are ye wearin' thot mournful thing for?" "I'm wearin' it for yer first husband," replied Mike firmly. "I'm sorry he's dead." "What a strangely interesting face your friend the poet has," gurgled the maiden of forty. "It seems to possess all the elements of happiness and sorrow, each struggling for supremacy." "Yes, he looks to me like a man who was married and didn't know it," growled the Cynical Bachelor. The not especially sweet-tempered young wife of a Kaslo B.C., man one day approached her lord concerning the matter of one hundred dollars or so. "I'd like to let you have it, my dear," began the husband, "but the fact is I haven't that amount in the bank this morning—that is to say, I haven't that amount to spare, inasmuch as I must take up a note for two hundred dollars this afternoon." "Oh, very well, James!" said the wife, with an ominous calmness, "If you think the man who holds the note can make things any hotter for you than I can—why, do as you say, James!" A young lady entered a book store and inquired of the gentlemanly clerk—a married man, by-the-way—if he had a book suitable for an old gentleman who had been married fifty years. Without the least hesitation the clerk reached for a copy of Parkman's "A Half Century of Conflict." Smith and Jones were discussing the question of who should be head of the house—the man or the woman. "I am the head of my establishment," said Jones. "I am the bread-winner. Why shouldn't I be?" "Well," replied Smith, "before my wife and I were married we made an agreement that I should make the rulings in all major things, my wife in all the minor." "How has it worked?" queried Jones. Smith smiled. "So far," he replied, "no major matters have come up." A poor lady the other day hastened to the nursery and said to her little daughter: "Minnie, what do you mean by shouting and screaming? Play quietly, like Tommy. See, he doesn't make a sound." "Of course he doesn't," said the little girl. "That is our game. He is papa coming home late, and I am you." The stranger advanced toward the door. Mrs. O'Toole stood in the doorway with a rough stick in her left hand and a frown on her brow. "Good morning," said the stranger politely. "I'm looking for Mr. O'Toole." "So'm I," said Mrs. O'Toole, shifting her club over to her other hand. TIM—"Sarer Smith (you know 'er—Bill's missus), she throwed herself horf the end uv the wharf larst night." TOM—"Poor Sarer!" TIM—"An' a cop fished 'er out again." TOM—"Poor Bill!" The cooing stops with the honeymoon, but the billing goes on forever. "Well, old man, how did you get along after I left you at midnight. Get home all right?" "No; a confounded nosey policeman haled me to the station, where I spent the rest of the night." "Lucky dog! I reached home." STRANGER—"What's the fight about?" NATIVE—"The feller on top is Hank Hill wot married the widder Strong, an' th' other's Joel Jenks, wot interdooced him to her."—Life. A colored man had been arrested on a charge of beating and cruelly misusing his wife. After hearing the charge against the prisoner, the justice turned to the first witness. "Madam," he said, "if this man were your husband and had given you a beating, would you call in the police?" The woman addressed, a veritable Amazon in size and aggressiveness, turned a smiling countenance towards the justice and answered: "No, jedge. If he was mah husban', and he treated me lak he did 'is wife, Ah wouldn't call no p'liceman. No, sah, Ah'd call de undertaker." We admire the strict impartiality of the judge who recently fined his wife twenty-five dollars for contempt of court, but we would hate to have been in the judge's shoes when he got home that night. "How many children have you?" asked the census-taker. The man addressed removed the pipe from his mouth, scratched his head, thought it over a moment, and then replied: "Five—four living and one married." SHE—"How did they ever come to marry?" HE—"Oh, it's the same old story. Started out to be good friends, you know, and later on changed their minds."—Puck. Nat Goodwin and a friend were walking along Fifth Avenue one afternoon when they stopped to look into a florist's window, in which there was an artistic arrangement of exquisite roses. "What wonderful American Beauties those are, Nat!" said the friend delightedly. "They are, indeed," replied Nat. "You see, I am very fond of that flower," continued the friend. "In fact, I might say it is my favorite. You know, Nat, I married an American beauty." "Well," said Nat dryly, "you haven't got anything on me. I married a cluster." "Are you quite sure that was a marriage license you gave me last month?" "Of course! What's the matter?" "Well, I thought there might be some mistake, seeing that I've lived a dog's life ever since." Is not marriage an open question, when it is alleged, from the beginning of the world, that such as are in the institution wish to get out, and such as are out wish to get in.—Emerson. HOUSEHOLDER—"Here, drop that coat and clear out!" BURGLAR—"You be quiet, or I'll wake your wife and give her this letter I found in your pocket." The reason why so few marriages are happy is because young ladies spend their time in making nets, not in making cages.—Swift. See also Church discipline; Domestic finance; Trouble. MARRIAGE FEESA poor couple who went to the priest to be wedded were met with a demand for the marriage fee. It was not forth-coming. Both the consenting parties were rich in love and in their prospects, but destitute of financial resources. The father was obdurate. "No money, no marriage." "Give me l'ave, your riverence," said the blushing bride, "to go and get the money." It was given, and she sped forth on the delicate mission of raising a marriage fee out of pure nothing. After a short interval she returned with the sum of money, and the ceremony was completed to the satisfaction of all. When the parting was taking place the newly-made wife seemed a little uneasy. "Anything on your mind, Catherine?" said the father. "Well, your riverence, I would like to know if this marriage could not be spoiled now." "Certainly not, Catherine. No man can put you asunder." "Could you not do it yourself, father? Could you not spoil the marriage?" "No, no, Catherine. You are past me now. I have nothing more to do with your marriage." "That aises me mind," said Catherine, "and God bless your riverence. There's the ticket for your hat. I picked it up in the lobby and pawned it." MANDY—"What foh yo' been goin'to de post-office so reg'lar? Are yo' corresponding wif some other female?" RASTUS—"Nope; but since ah been a-readin' in de papers 'bout dese 'conscience funds' ah kind of thought ah might possibly git a lettah from dat ministah what married us."—Life. The knot was tied; the pair were wed, And then the smiling bridegroom said Unto the preacher, "Shall I pay To you the usual fee today. Or would you have me wait a year And give you then a hundred clear, If I should find the marriage state As happy as I estimate?" The preacher lost no time in thought, To his reply no study brought, There were no wrinkles on his brow: Said he, "I'll take three dollars now." MATHEMATICSSee Arithmetic. MATRIMONYSee Marriage. MEASURING INSTRUMENTS"Golly, but I's tired!" exclaimed a tall and thin negro, meeting a short and stout friend on Washington Street. "What you been doin' to get tired?" demanded the other. "Well," explained the thin one, drawing a deep breath, "over to Brother Smith's dey are measurin' de house for some new carpets. Dey haven't got no yawdstick, and I's just ezactly six feet tall. So to oblige Brother Smith, I's been a-layin' down and a-gettin' up all over deir house." MEDICAL INSPECTION OF SCHOOLSPASSER-BY—"What's the fuss in the schoolyard, boy?" THE BOY—"Why, the doctor has just been around examinin' us an' one of the deficient boys is knockin' th' everlastin' stuffin's out of a perfect kid." MEDICINEThe farmer's mule had just balked in the road when the country doctor came by. The farmer asked the physician if he could give him something to start the mule. The doctor said he could, and, reaching down into his medicine case, gave the animal some powders. The mule switched his tail, tossed his head and started on a mad gallop down the road. The farmer looked first at the flying animal and then at the doctor. "How much did that medicine cost, Doc?" he asked. "Oh, about fifteen cents," said the physician. "Well, give me a quarter's worth, quick!" And he swallowed it. "I've got to catch that mule." "I hope you are following my instructions carefully, Sandy—the pills three times a day and a drop of whisky at bedtime." "Weeel, sir, I may be a wee bit behind wi' the pills, but I'm about six weeks in front wi' the whusky." Rarely has a double meaning turned with more deadly effect upon an innocent perpetrator than in an advertisement lately appearing in a western newspaper. He wrote: "Wanted—a gentleman to undertake the sale of a patent medicine. The advertiser guarantees it will be profitable to the undertaker." I firmly believe that if the whole materia medico could be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would be all the better for mankind and all the worse for the fishes.—O.W. Holmes. A man's own observation, what he finds good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic to preserve health.—Bacon. MEEKNESSOne evening just before dinner a wife, who had been playing bridge all the afternoon, came in to find her husband and a strange man (afterward ascertained to be a lawyer) engaged in some mysterious business over the library table, upon which were spread several sheets of paper. "What are you going to do with all that paper, Henry?" demanded the wife. "I am making a wish," meekly responded the husband. "A wish?" "Yes, my dear. In your presence I shall not presume to call it a will." MEMORIALSTwo negroes were talking about a recent funeral of a member of their race, at which funeral there had been a profusion of floral tributes. Said the cook: "Dat's all very well, Mandy; but when I dies I don't want no flowers on my grave. Jes' plant a good old watermelon-vine; an' when she gits ripe, you come dar, an' don't you eat it, but jes' bus' it on de grave, an' let de good old juice dribble down thro' de ground!" "That's rather a handsome mantelpiece you have there, Mr. Binkston," said the visitor. "Yes," replied Mr. Binkston, proudly. "That is a memorial to my wife." "Why—I was not aware that Mrs. Binkston had passed away," said the visitor sympathetically. "Oh no, indeed, she hasn't," smiled Mr. Binkston. "She is serving her thirtieth sojourn in jail. That mantelpiece is built of the bricks she was convicted of throwing." MEMORY"Uncle Mose," said a drummer, addressing an old colored man seated on a drygoods box in front of the village store, "they tell me that you remember seeing George Washington—am I mistaken?" "No, sah," said Uncle Mose. "I uster 'member seein' him, but I done fo'got sence I jined de chu'ch." A noted college president, attending a banquet in Boston, was surprised to see that the darky who took the hats at the door gave no checks in return. "He has a most wonderful memory," a fellow diner explained. "He's been doing that for years and prides himself upon never having made a mistake." As the college president was leaving, the darky passed him his hat. "How do you know that this one is mine?" "I don't know it, suh," admitted the darky. "Then why do you give it to me?" "'Cause yo' gave it to me, suh." "Tommy," said his mother reprovingly, "what did I say I'd do to you if I ever caught you stealing jam again?" Tommy thoughtfully scratched his head with his sticky fingers. "Why, that's funny, ma, that you should forget it, too. Hanged if I can remember." Smith is a young New York lawyer, clever in many ways, but very forgetful. He was recently sent to St. Louis to interview an important client in regard to a case then pending in the Missouri courts. Later the head of his firm received this telegram from St. Louis: "Have forgotten name of client. Please wire at once." This was the reply sent from New York: "Client's name Jenkins. Your name Smith." When time who steals our years away Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay And half our joys renew. —Moore. The heart hath its own memory, like the mind, And in it are enshrined The precious keepsakes, into which is wrought The giver's loving thought. —Longfellow. MENHere's to the men! God bless them! Worst of me sins, I confess them! In loving them all; be they great or small, So here's to the boys! God bless them! May all single men be married, And all married men be happy. "What is your ideal man?" "One who is clever enough to make money and foolish enough to spend it!" I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.—Shakespeare. Men are four: He who knows and knows not that he knows,— He is asleep—wake him; He who knows not and knows not that he knows not,— He is a fool—shun him; He who knows not and knows that he knows not,— He is a child—teach him; He who knows and knows that He knows,— He is a king—follow him. See also Dogs; Husbands. MESSAGES"Have you the rent ready?" "No, sir; mother's gone out washing and forgot to put it out for you." "Did she tell you she'd forgotten?" "Yes, sir." One of the passengers on a wreck was an exceedingly nervous man, who, while floating in the water, imagined how his friends would acquaint his wife of his fate. Saved at last, he rushed to the telegraph office and sent this message: "Dear Pat, I am saved. Break it gently to my wife." METAPHORIt was a Washington woman, angry because the authorities had closed the woman's rest-room in the Senate office building, who burst out: "It is almost as if the Senate had hurled its glove into the teeth of the advancing wave that is sounding the clarion of equal rights." A water consumer in Los Angeles, California, whose supply had been turned off because he wouldn't pay, wrote to the department as follows: "In the matter of shutting off the water on unpaid bills, your company is fast becoming a regular crystallized Russian bureaucracy, running in a groove and deaf to the appeals of reform. There is no use of your trying to impugn the verity of this indictment by shaking your official heads in the teeth of your own deeds. "If you will persist in this kind of thing, a widespread conflagration of the populace will be so imminent that it will require only a spark to let loose the dogs of war in our midst. Will you persist in hurling the corner stone of our personal liberty to your wolfish hounds of collectors, thirsting for its blood? If you persist, the first thing you know you will have the chariot of a justly indignant revolution rolling along in our midst and gnashing its teeth as it rolls. "If your rascally collectors are permitted to continue coming to our doors with unblushing footsteps, with cloaks of hypocritical compunction in their mouths, and compel payment from your patrons, this policy will result in cutting the wool off the sheep that lays the golden egg, until you have pumped it dry—and then farewell, a long farewell, to our vaunted prosperity." MICE"What's the matter with Briggs?" "He was getting shaved by a lady barber when a mouse ran across the floor."—Life. MIDDLE CLASSESWILLIE—"Paw, what is the middle class?" PAW—"The middle class consists of people who are not poor enough to accept charity and not rich enough to donate anything." MILITANTSSee Suffragettes. MILITARY DISCIPLINEMurphy was a new recruit in the cavalry. He could not ride at all, and by ill luck was given one of the most vicious horses in the troop. "Remember," said the sergeant, "no one is allowed to dismount without orders." Murphy was no sooner in the saddle than he was thrown to the ground. "Murphy!" yelled the sergeant, when he discovered him lying breathless on the ground, "you dismounted!" "I did." "Did you have orders?" "I did." "From headquarters, I suppose?" "No, sor; from hintquarters." "How dare you come on parade," exclaimed an Irish sergeant to a recruit, "before a respictible man loike mysilf smothered from head to foot in graise an' poipe clay? Tell me now—answer me when I spake to yez!" The recruit was about to excuse himself for his condition when the sergeant stopped him. "Dare yez to answer me when I puts a question to yez?" he cried. "Hould yer lyin' tongue, and open your face at yer peril! Tell me now, what have ye been doin' wid yer uniform an' arms an' bills? Not a word, or I'll clap yez in the guardroom. When I axes yez anything an' yez spakes I'll have yez tried for insolence to yer superior officer, but if yez don't answer when I questions yez, I'll have yez punished for disobedience of orders! So, yez see, I have yez both ways!" Mistake, error, is the discipline through which we advance.—Channing. MILLINERSRecipe for a milliner: To a presence that's much more than queenly, Add a manner that's quite Vere de Vere; You feel like a worm in her sight when she says, "Only $300, my dear!" —Life. MILLIONAIRESRecipe for a multi-millionaire: Take a boy with bare feet as a starter Add thrift and sobriety, mixed— Flavor with quarts of religion, And see that the tariff is fixed. —Life. MILLIONAIRE (to a beggar)—"Be off with you this minute!" BEGGAR—"Look 'ere, mister; the only difference between you and me is that you are makin' your second million, while I am still workin' at my first." "Now that you have made $50,000,000, I suppose you are going to keep right on for the purpose of trying to get a hundred millions?" "No, sir. You do me an injustice. I'm going to put in the rest of my time trying to get my conscience into a satisfactory condition." "When I was a young man," said Mr. Cumrox, "I thought nothing of working twelve or fourteen hours a day." "Father," replied the young man with sporty clothes, "I wish you wouldn't mention it. Those non-union sentiments are liable to make you unpopular." No good man ever became suddenly rich.—Syrus. And all to leave what with his toil he won, To that unfeather'd two-legged thing, a son. —Dryden. See also Capitalists. MINORITIESStepping out between the acts at the first production of one of his plays, Bernard Shaw said to the audience: "What do you think of it?" This startled everybody for the time being, but presently a man in the pit assembled his scattered wits and cried: "Rotten!" Shaw made a curtsey and melted the house with one of his Irish smiles. "My friend," he said, shrugging his shoulders and indicating the crowd in front, "I quite agree with you, but what are we two against so many?" MISERSThere was an old man of Nantucket Who kept all his cash in a bucket; But his daughter, named Nan, Ran away with a man— And as for the bucket, Nantucket. A mere madness, to live like a wretch, and die rich.—Robert Burton. MISSIONARIESSHE—"Poor cousin Jack! And to be eaten by those wretched cannibals!" HE—"Yes, my dear child; but he gave them their first taste in religion!" At a meeting of the Women's Foreign Missionary Society in a large city church a discussion arose among the members present as to the race of people that inhabited a far-away land. Some insisted that they were not a man-eating people; others that they were known to be cannibals. However, the question was finally decided by a minister's widow, who said: "I beg pardon for interrupting, Mrs. Chairman, but I can assure you that they are cannibals. My husband was a missionary there and they ate him." MISSIONS"What in the world are you up to, Hilda?" exclaimed Mrs. Bale, as she entered the nursery where her six-year-old daughter was stuffing broken toys, headless dolls, ragged clothes and general debris into an open box. "Why, mother," cried Hilda, "can't you see? I'm packing a missionary box just the way the ladies do; and it's all right," she added reassuringly, "I haven't put in a single thing that's any good at all!" MISTAKEN IDENTITYThere was a young fellow named Paul, Who went to a fancy dress ball; They say, just for fun He dressed up like a bun, And was "et" by a dog in the hall. A Scottish woman, who was spending her holidays in London, entered a bric-a-brac shop, in search of something odd to take home to Scotland with her. After she had inspected several articles, but had found none to suit her, she noticed a quaint figure, the head and shoulders of which appeared above the counter. "What is that Japanese idol over there worth?" she inquired of the salesman. The salesman's reply was given in a subdued tone: "About half a million, madam. That's the proprietor!" The late James McNeil Whistler was standing bareheaded in a hat shop, the clerk having taken his hat to another part of the shop for comparison. A man rushed in with his hat in his hand, and, supposing Whistler to be a clerk angrily confronted him. "See here," he said, "this hat doesn't fit." Whistler eyed the stranger critically from head to foot, and then drawled out: "Well, neither does your coat. What's more, if you'll pardon my saying so, I'll be hanged if I care much for the color of your trousers." The steamer was on the point of leaving, and the passengers lounged on the deck and waited for the start. At length one of them espied a cyclist in the far distance, and it soon became evident that he was doing his level best to catch the boat. Already the sailors' hands were on the gangways, and the cyclist's chance looked small indeed. Then a sportive passenger wagered a sovereign to a shilling that he would miss it. The offer was taken, and at once the deck became a scene of wild excitement. "He'll miss it." "No; he'll just do it." "Come on!" "He won't do it." "Yes, he will. He's done it. Hurrah!" In the very nick of time the cyclist arrived, sprang off his machine, and ran up the one gangway left. "Cast off!" he cried. It was the captain. Much to the curious little girl's disgust, her elder sister and her girl friends had quickly closed the door of the back parlor, before she could wedge her small self in among them. She waited uneasily for a little while, then she knocked. No response. She knocked again. Still no attention. Her curiosity could be controlled no longer. "Dodo!" she called in staccato tones as she knocked once again. "'Tain't me! It's Mamma!" MOLLYCODDLES"Tommy, why don't you play with Frank any more?" asked Tommy's mother, who noticed that he was cultivating the acquaintance of a new boy on the block. "I thought you were such good chums." "We was," replied Tommy superciliously, "but he's a mollycoddle. He paid t' git into the ball-grounds." MONEYIn some of the college settlements there are penny savings banks for children. One Saturday a small boy arrived with an important air and withdrew 2 cents from his account. Monday morning he promptly returned the money. "So you didn't spend your 2 cents?" observed the worker in charge. "Oh, no," he replied, "but a fellow just likes to have a little cash on hand over Sunday." See also Domestic finance. MORAL EDUCATIONTwo little boys, four and five years old respectively, were playing quietly, when the one of four years struck the other on his cheek. An interested bystander stepped up and asked him why he had hit the other who had done nothing. "Well," replied the pugilistic one, "last Sunday our lesson in Sunday-school was about if a fellow hit you on the left cheek turn the other and get another crack, and I just wanted to see if Bobbie knew his lesson." MOSQUITOESSenator Gore, of Oklahoma, while addressing a convention in Oklahoma City recently, told this story, illustrating a point he made: "A northern gentleman was being entertained by a southern colonel on a fishing-trip. It was his first visit to the South, and the mosquitoes were so bothersome that he was unable to sleep, while at the same time he could hear his friend snoring audibly. "The next morning he approached the old darky who was doing the cooking. "'Jim,' he said, 'how is it the colonel is able to sleep so soundly with so many mosquitoes around?' "'I'll tell yo', boss,' the darky replied, 'de fust part of de night de kernel is too full to pay any 'tenshum to de skeeters, and de last part of de night de skeeters is too full to pay any 'tenshum to de kernel.'" See also Applause; New Jersey. MOTHERSWhile reconnoitering in Westmoreland County, Virginia, one of General Washington's officers chanced upon a fine team of horses driven before a plow by a burly slave. Finer animals he had never seen. When his eyes had feasted on their beauty he cried to the driver: "Hello good fellow! I must have those horses. They are just such animals as I have been looking for." The black man grinned, rolled up the whites of his eyes, put the lash to the horses' flanks and turned up another furrow in the rich soil. The officer waited until he had finished the row; then throwing back his cavalier cloak the ensign of the rank dazzled the slave's eyes. "Better see missus! Better see missus!" he cried waving his hand to the south, where above the cedar growth rose the towers of a fine old Virginia mansion. The officer turned up the carriage road and soon was rapping the great brass knocker of the front door. Quickly the door swung upon its ponderous hinges and a grave, majestic-looking woman confronted the visitor with an air of inquiry. "Madam," said the officer doffing his cap and overcome by her dignity, "I have come to claim your horses in the name of the Government." "My horses?" said she, bending upon him a pair of eyes born to command. "Sir, you cannot have them. My crops are out and I need my horses in the field." "I am sorry," said the officer, "but I must have them, madam. Such are the orders of my chief." "Your chief? Who is your chief, pray?" she demanded with restrained warmth. "The commander of the American army, General George Washington," replied the other, squaring his shoulders and swelling his pride. A smile of triumph softened the sternness of the woman's features. "You go and tell General George Washington for me," said she, "that his mother says he cannot have her horses." The wagons of "the greatest show on earth" passed up the avenue at daybreak. Their incessant rumbling soon awakened ten-year-old Billie and five-year-old brother Robert. Their mother feigned sleep as the two white-robed figures crept past her bed into the hall, on the way to investigate. Robert struggled manfully with the unaccustomed task of putting on his clothes. "Wait for me, Billie," his mother heard him beg. "You'll get ahead of me." "Get mother to help you," counseled Billie, who was having troubles of his own. Mother started to the rescue, and then paused as she heard the voice of her younger, guarded but anxious and insistent. "You ask her, Billie. You've known her longer than I have." A little girl, being punished by her mother flew, white with rage, to her desk, wrote on a piece of paper, and then going out in the yard she dug a hole in the ground, put the paper in it and covered it over. The mother, being interested in her child's doings, went out after the little girl had gone away, dug up the paper and read:
One morning a little girl hung about the kitchen bothering the busy cook to death. The cook lost patience finally. "Clear out o' here, ye sassy little brat!" she shouted, thumping the table with a rolling-pin. The little girl gave the cook a haughty look. "I never allow any one but my mother to speak to me like that," she said. The public-spirited lady met the little boy on the street. Something about his appearance halted her. She stared at him in her near-sighted way. THE LADY—"Little boy, haven't you any home?" THE LITTLE BOY—"Oh, yes'm; I've got a home." THE LADY—"And loving parents?" THE LITTLE BOY—"Yes'm." THE LADY—"I'm afraid you do not know what love really is. Do your parents look after your moral welfare?" THE LITTLE BOY—"Yes'm." THE LADY—"Are they bringing you up to be a good and helpful citizen?" THE LITTLE BOY—"Yes'm." THE LADY—"Will you ask your mother to come and hear me talk on 'When Does a Mother's Duty to Her Child Begin?' next Saturday afternoon, at three o'clock, at Lyceum Hall?" THE LITTLE BOY (explosively)—"What's th' matter with you ma! Don't you know me? I'm your little boy!" Here's to the happiest hours of my life— Spent in the arms of another man's wife: My mother! Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay. —Tennyson. Women know The way to rear up children (to be just); They know a simple, merry, tender knack Of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, And stringing pretty words that make no sense, And kissing full sense into empty words; Which things are corals to cut life upon, Although such trifles. —E. B. Browning MOTHERS-IN-LAWJustice David J. Brewer was asked not long ago by a man. "Will you please tell me, sir, what is the extreme penalty for bigamy?" Justice Brewer smiled and answered: "Two mothers-in-law." SHE—"And so you are going to be my son-in-law?" HE—"By Jove! I hadn't thought of that." WAITER—"Have another glass, sir?" HUSBAND (to his wife)—"Shall I have another glass, Henrietta?" WIFE (to her mother)—"Shall he have another, mother?" A blackmailer wrote the following to a wealthy business man: "Send me $5,000 or I will abduct your mother-in-law." To which the business man replied: "Sorry I am short of funds, but your proposition interests me." An undertaker telegraphed to a man that his mother-in-law had died and asked whether he should bury, embalm or cremate her. The man replied, "All three, take no chances." MOTORCYCLESThe automobile was a thing unheard of to a mountaineer in one community, and he was very much astonished one day when he saw one go by without any visible means of locomotion. His eyes bulged, however, when a motorcycle followed closely in its wake and disappeared like a flash around a bend in the road. "Gee whiz!" he said, turning to his son, "who'd 'a' s'posed that thing had a colt?" MOUNTAINSSome real-estate dealers in British Columbia were accused of having victimized English and Scotch settlers by selling to them (at long range) fruit ranches which were situated on the tops of mountains. It is said that the captain of a steamboat on Kootenay Lake once heard a great splash in the water. Looking over the rail, he spied the head of a man who was swimming toward his boat. He hailed him. "Do you know," said the swimmer, "this is the third time to-day that I've fallen off that bally old ranch of mine?" MOVING PICTURES"Your soldiers look fat and happy. You must have a war chest." "Not exactly, but things are on a higher plane than they used to be. This revolution is being financed by a moving-picture concern." MUCK-RAKINGThe way of the transgressor is well written up. MULESGen. O.O. Howard, as is well known, is a man of deep religious principles, and in the course of the war he divided his time pretty equally between fighting and evangelism. Howard's brigade was known all through the army as the Christian brigade, and he was very proud of it. There was one hardened old sinner in the brigade, however, whose ears were deaf to all exhortation. General Howard was particularly anxious to convert this man, and one day he went down in the teamsters' part of the camp where the man was on duty. He talked with him long and earnestly about religion and finally said: "I want to see you converted. Won't you come to the mourners' bench at the next service?" The erring one rubbed his head thoughtfully for a moment and then replied: "General, I'm plumb willin' to be converted, but if I am, seein' that everyone else has got religion, who in blue blazes is goin' to drive the mules?" MUNICIPAL GOVERNMENT"What's the trouble in Plunkville?" "We've tried a mayor and we've tried a commission." "Well?" "Now we're thinking of offering the management of our city to some good magazine." MUSEUMSIt had been anything but an easy afternoon for the teacher who took six of her pupils through the Museum of Natural History, but their enthusiastic interest in the stuffed animals and their open-eyed wonder at the prehistoric fossils amply repaid her. "Well, boys, where have you been all afternoon?" asked the father of two of the party that evening. The answer came back with joyous promptness: "Oh, pop! Teacher took us to a dead circus." Two Marylanders, who were visiting the National Museum at Washington, were seen standing in front of an Egyptian mummy, over which hung a placard bearing the inscription. "B.C. 1187." Both visitors were much mystified thereby. Said one: "What do you make of that, Bill?" "Well," said Bill, "I dunno; but maybe it was the number of the motor-car that killed him."—Edwin Tarrisse. MUSICThe musical young woman who dropped her peekaboo waist in the piano player and turned out a Beethoven sonata, has her equal in the lady who stood in front of a five-bar fence and sang all the dots on her veil. A thief broke into a Madison avenue mansion early the other morning and found himself in the music-room. Hearing footsteps approaching, he took refuge behind a screen. From eight to nine o'clock the eldest daughter had a singing lesson. From nine to ten o'clock the second daughter took a piano lesson. From ten to eleven o'clock the eldest son had a violin lesson. From eleven to twelve o'clock the other son had a lesson on the flute. At twelve-fifteen all the brothers and sisters assembled and studied an ear-splitting piece for voice, piano, violin and flute. The thief staggered out from behind the screen at twelve-forty-five, and falling at their feet, cried: "For Heaven's sake, have me arrested!" A lady told Swinburne that she would render on the piano a very ancient Florentine retornello which had just been discovered. She then played "Three blind mice" and Swinburne was enchanted. He found that it reflected to perfection the cruel beauty of the Medicis—which, perhaps, it does.—Edmund Gosse. The accomplished and obliging pianist had rendered several selections, when one of the admiring group of listeners in the hotel parlor suggested Mozart's Twelfth Mass. Several people echoed the request, but one lady was particularly desirous of hearing the piece, explaining that her husband had belonged to that very regiment. Dinner was a little late. A guest asked the hostess to play something. Seating herself at the piano, the good woman executed a Chopin nocturne with precision. She finished, and there was still an interval of waiting to be bridged. In the grim silence she turned to an old gentleman on her right and said: "Would you like a sonata before going in to dinner?" He gave a start of surprise and pleasure as he responded briskly: "Why, yes, thanks! I had a couple on my way here, but I could stand another." Music is the universal language of mankind.—Longfellow. I even think that, sentimentally, I am disposed to harmony. But organically I am incapable of a tune.—Charles Lamb. There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears: Their earth is but an echo of the spheres. —Byron. MUSICIANSFATHER—"Well, sonny, did you take your dog to the 'vet' next door to your house, as I suggested?" BOY—"Yes, sir." FATHER-"And what did he say?" BOY—"'E said Towser was suffering from nerves, so Sis had better give up playin' the pianner." The "celebrated pianiste," Miss Sharpe, had concluded her recital. As the resultant applause was terminating, Mrs. Rochester observed Colonel Grayson wiping his eyes. The old gentleman noticed her look, and, thinking it one of inquiry, began to explain the cause of his sadness. "The girl's playing," he told the lady, "reminded me so much of the playing of her father. He used to be a chum of mine in the Army of the Potomac." "Oh, indeed!" cooed Mrs. Rochester, with a conventional show of interest. "I never knew her father was a piano-player." "He wasn't," replied the Colonel. "He was a drummer."—G.T. Evans. Recipe for an orchestra leader: Four hundred and twenty-two movements— Emanuel, Swedish and Swiss— It's a wonder the hand can keep playing, You'd think they'd die laughing at this! —Life. 'Tis God gives skill, But not without men's hands: He could not make Antonio Stradivari's violins Without Antonio. —George Eliot. NAMES, PERSONALIsrael Zangwill, the well-known writer, signs himself I. Zangwill. He was once approached at a reception by a fussy old lady, who demanded, "Oh, Mr. Zangwill, what is your Christian name?" "Madame, I have none," he gravely assured her.—John Pearson. FRIEND-"So your great Russian actor was a total failure?" MANAGER-"Yes. It took all our profits to pay for running the electric light sign with his name on it."—Puck. A somewhat unpatriotic little son of Italy, twelve years old, came to his teacher in the public school and asked if he could not have his name changed. "Why do you wish to change your name?" the teacher asked. "I want to be an American. I live in America now. I no longer want to be a Dago." "What American name would you like to have?" "I have it here," he said, handing the teacher a dirty scrap of paper on which was written—Patrick Dennis McCarty. A shy young man once said to a young lady: "I wish dear, that we were on such terms of intimacy that you would not mind calling me by my first name." "Oh," she replied, "your second name is good enough for me." An American travelling in Europe engaged a courier. Arriving at an inn in Austria, the man asked his servant to enter his name in accordance with the police regulations of that country. Some time after, the man asked the servant if he had complied with his orders. "Yes, sir," was the reply. "How did you write my name?" asked the master. "Well, sir, I can't pronounce it," answered the servant, "but I copied it from your portmanteau, sir." "Why, my name isn't there. Bring me the book." The register was brought, and, instead of the plain American name of two syllables, the following entry was revealed: "Monsieur Warranted Solid Leather." —M.A. Hitchcock. The story is told of Helen Hunt, the famous author of "Ramona," that one morning after church service she found a purse full of money and told her pastor about it. "Very well," he said, "you keep it, and at the evening service I will announce it," which he did in this wise: "This morning there was found in this church a purse filled with money. If the owner is present he or she can go to Helen Hunt for it." And the minister wondered why the congregation tittered! A street-car "masher" tried in every way to attract the attention of the pretty young girl opposite him. Just as he had about given up, the girl, entirely unconscious of what had been going on, happened to glance in his direction. The "masher" immediately took fresh courage. "It's cold out to-day, isn't it?" he ventured. The girl smiled and nodded assent, but had nothing to say. "My name is Specknoodle," he volunteered. "Oh, I am so sorry," she said sympathetically, as she left the car. The comedian came on with affected diffidence. "At our last stand," quoth he, "I noticed a man laughing while I was doing my turn. Honest, now! My, how he laughed! He laughed until he split. Till he split, mind you. Thinks I to myself, I'll just find out about the man and so, when the show was over, I went up to him. "My friend," says I, "I've heard that there's nothing in a name, but are you not one of the Wood family?" "I am," says he, "and what's more, my grandfather was a Pine!" "No Wood, you know, splits any easier than a Pine."—Ramsey Benson. "But Eliza," said the mistress, "your little boy was christened George Washington. Why do you call him Izaak Walton? Walton, you know, was the famous fisherman." "Yes'm," answered Eliza, "but dat chile's repetashun fo' telling de troof made dat change imper'tive." The mother of the girl baby, herself named Rachel, frankly told her husband that she was tired of the good old names borne by most of the eminent members of the family, and she would like to give the little girl a name entirely different. Then she wrote on a slip of paper "Eugénie," and asked her husband if he didn't think that was a pretty name. The father studied the name for a moment and then said: "Vell, call her Yousheenie, but I don't see vat you gain by it." There was a great swell in Japan, Whose name on a Tuesday began; It lasted through Sunday Till twilight on Monday, And sounded like stones in a can. He was a young lawyer who had just started practicing in a small town and hung his sign outside of his office door. It read: "A. Swindler." A stranger who called to consult him saw the sign and said: "My goodness, man, look at that sign! Don't you see how it reads? Put in your first name—Alexander, Ambrose or whatever it is." "Oh, yes I know," said the lawyer resignedly, "but I don't exactly like to do it." "Why not?" asked the client. "It looks mighty bad as it is. What is your first name?" "Adam." Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name. —Campbell. NATIVESFRIEND (admiring the prodigy)—"Seventh standard, is she? Plays the planner an' talks French like a native, I'll bet." FOND BUT "TOUCHY" PARENT—"I've no doubt that's meant to be very funny, Bill Smith; but as it 'appens you're only exposin' your ignorance; they ain't natives in France—they're as white as wot we are."—Sketch. NATURE LOVERS"Would you mind tooting your factory whistle a little?" "What for?" "For my father over yonder in the park. He's a trifle deaf and he hasn't heard a robin this summer." NAVIGATIONThe fog was dense and the boat had stopped when the old lady asked the Captain why he didn't go on. "Can't see up the river, madam." "But, Captain," she persisted, "I can see the stars overhead." "Yes, ma'am," said the Captain, "but until the boilers bust we ain't goin' that way." NEATNESSThe neatness of the New England housekeeper is a matter of common remark, and husbands in that part of the country are supposed to appreciate their advantages. A bit of dialogue reported as follows shows that there may be another side to the matter. "Martha, have you wiped the sink dry yet?" asked the farmer, as he made final preparations for the night. "Yes, Josiah," she replied. "Why do you ask?" "Well, I did want a drink, but I guess I can get along until morning." NEGROESA colored girl asked the drug clerk for "ten cents' wuth o' cou't-plaster." "What color," he asked. "Flesh cullah, suh." Whereupon the clerk proffered a box of black court plaster. The girl opened the box with a deliberation that was ominous, but her face was unruffled as she noted the color of the contents and said: "I ast for flesh cullah, an' you done give me skin cullah." A cart containing a number of negro field hands was being drawn by a mule. The driver, a darky of about twenty, was endeavoring to induce the mule to increase its speed, when suddenly the animal let fly with its heels and dealt him such a kick on the head that he was stretched on the ground in a twinkling. He lay rubbing his woolly pate where the mule had kicked him. "Is he hurt?" asked a stranger anxiously of an older negro who had jumped from the conveyance and was standing over the prostrate driver. "No, Boss," was the older man's reply; "dat mule will probably walk kind o' tendah for a day or two, but he ain't hurt." In certain parts of the West Indies the negroes speak English with a broad brogue. They are probably descended from the slaves of the Irish adventurers who accompanied the Spanish settlers. A gentleman from Dublin upon arriving at a West Indian port was accosted by a burly negro fruit vender with, "Th, top uv th' mornin' to ye, an' would ye be after wantin' to buy a bit o' fruit, sor?" The Irishman stared at him in amazement. "An' how long have ye been here?" he finally asked. "Goin' on three months, yer Honor," said the vender, thinking of the time he had left his inland home. "Three months, is it? Only three months an' as black as thot? Faith, I'll not land!" Dinah, crying bitterly, was coming down the street with her feet bandaged. "Why, what on earth's the matter?" she was asked. "How did you hurt your feet, Dinah?" "Dat good fo' nothin' nigger [sniffle] done hit me on de haid wif a club while I was standin' on de hard stone pavement." "'Liza, what fo' yo' buy dat udder box of shoe-blacknin'?" "Go on, Nigga', dat ain't shoe-blacknin', dat's ma massage cream!" "Johnny," said the mother as she vigorously scrubbed the small boy's face with soap and water, "didn't I tell you never to blacken your face again? Here I've been scrubbing for half an hour and it won't come off." "I—I—ouch!" sputtered the small boy; "I ain't your little boy. I—ouch! I'se Mose, de colored lady's little boy." The day before she was to be married an old negro servant came to her mistress and intrusted her savings to her keeping. "Why should I keep your money for you? I thought you were going to be married?" said the mistress. "So I is, Missus, but do you 'spose I'd keep all dis yer money in de house wid dat strange nigger?" A southern colonel had a colored valet by the name of George. George received nearly all the colonel's cast-off clothing. He had his eyes on a certain pair of light trousers which were not wearing out fast enough to suit him, so he thought he would hasten matters somewhat by rubbing grease on one knee. When the colonel saw the spot, he called George and asked if he had noticed it. George said, "Yes, sah, Colonel, I noticed dat spot and tried mighty hard to get it out, but I couldn't." "Have you tried gasoline?" the colonel asked. "Yes, sah, Colonel, but it didn't do no good." "Have you tried brown paper and a hot iron?" "Yes, sah, Colonel, I'se done tried 'mos' everything I knows of, but dat spot wouldn't come out." "Well, George, have you tried ammonia?" the colonel asked as a last resort. "No, sah, Colonel, I ain't tried 'em on yet, but I knows dey'll fit." A negro went into a hardware shop and asked to be shown some razors, and after critically examining those submitted to him the would-be purchaser was asked why he did not try a "safety," to which he replied: "I ain' lookin' for that kind. I wants this for social purposes." Before a house where a colored man had died, a small darkey was standing erect at one side of the door. It was about time for the services to begin, and the parson appeared from within and said to the darkey: "De services are about to begin. Aren't you a-gwine in?" "I'se would if I'se could, parson," answered the little negro, "but yo' see I'se de crape." See also Chicken stealing. NEIGHBORSTHE MAN AT THE DOOR—"Madame, I'm the piano-tuner." THE WOMAN—"I didn't send for a piano-tuner." THE MAN—"I know it, lady; the neighbors did." NEW JERSEY"You must have had a terrible experience with no food, and mosquitoes swarming around you," I said to the shipwrecked mariner who had been cast upon the Jersey sands. "You just bet I had a terrible experience," he acknowledged. "My experience was worse than that of the man who wrote 'Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink.' With me it was bites, bites everywhere, but not a bite to eat." NEW YORK CITYAt a convention of Methodist Bishops held in Washington, the Bishop of New York made a stirring address extolling the powers and possibilities of his state. Bishop Hamilton, of California, like all good Californians, is imbued with the conviction that it would be hard to equal a place he knows of on the Pacific, and following the Bishop of New York he gave a glowing picture of California, concluding: "Not only is it the best place on earth to live in, but it has superior advantages, too, as a place to die in; for there we have at our threshold the beautiful Golden Gate, while in New York they only have—well, you know which gate it is over at New York!" One night Dave Warfield was playing at David Belasco's new theatre, supported by one of Mr. Belasco's new companies. The performance ran with a smoothness of a Standard Oil lawyer explaining rebates to a Federal court. A worthy person of the farming classes, sitting in G 14, was plainly impressed. In an interval between the acts he turned to the metropolitan who had the seat next him. "Where do all them troopers come from?" he inquired. "I don't think I understand," said the city-dweller. "I mean them actors up yonder on the stage," explained the man from afar. "Was they brought on specially for this show, or do they live here?" "I believe most of them live here in town," said the New Yorker. "Well, they do purty blamed well for home talent," said the stranger. A traveler in Tennessee came across an aged negro seated in front of his cabin door basking in the sunshine. "He could have walked right on the stage for an Uncle Tom part without a line of makeup," says the traveler. "He must have been eighty years of age." "Good morning, uncle," says the stranger. "Mornin', sah! Mornin'," said the aged one. Then he added, "Be you the gentleman over yonder from New York?" Being told that such was the case the old darky said; "Do you mind telling me something that has been botherin' my old haid? I have got a grandson—he runs on the Pullman cyars—and he done tell me that up thar in New York you-all burn up youah folks when they die. He is a poherful liar, and I don't believe him." "Yes," replied the other, "that is the truth in some cases. We call it cremation." "Well, you suttenly surprise me," said the negro and then he paused as if in deep reflection. Finally he said: "You-all know I am a Baptist. I believe in the resurrection and the life everlastin' and the coming of the Angel Gabriel and the blowin' of that great horn, and Lawdy me, how am they evah goin' to find them folks on that great mawnin'?" It was too great a task for an offhand answer, and the suggestion was made that the aged one consult his minister. Again the negro fell into a brown study, and then he raised his head and his eyes twinkled merrily, and he said in a soft voice: "Meanin' no offense, sah, but from what Ah have heard about New York I kinder calcerlate they is a lot of them New York people that doan' wanter be found on that mornin'." NEWSSoon after the installation of the telegraph in Fredericksburg, Virginia, a little darky, the son of my father's mammy, saw a piece of newspaper that had blown up on the telegraph wires and caught there. Running to my grandmother in a great state of excitement, he cried, "Miss Liza, come quick! Dem wires done buss and done let all the news out!"—Sue M.M. Halsey. "Our whole neighborhood has been stirred up," said the regular reader. The editor of the country weekly seized his pen. "Tell me about it," he said. "What we want is news. What stirred it up?" "Plowing," said the farmer. There is nothing new except what is forgotten.—Mademoiselle Berlin. NEWSPAPERSA kind old gentleman seeing a small boy who was carrying a lot of newspapers under his arm said: "Don't all those papers make you tired, my boy?" "Naw, I don't read 'em," replied the lad. VOX POPULI—"Do you think you've boosted your circulation by giving a year's subscription for the biggest potato raised in the county?" THE EDITOR—"Mebbe not; but I got four barrels of samples." COLONEL HIGHFLYER—"What are your rates per column?" EDITOR OF "SWELL SOCIETY"—"For insertion or suppression?"—Life. EDITOR—"You wish a position as a proofreader?" APPLICANT—"Yes, sir." "Do you understand the requirements of that responsible position?" "Perfectly, sir. Whenever you make any mistakes in the paper, just blame 'em on me, and I'll never say a word." A prominent Montana newspaper man was making the round of the insane asylum of that state in an official capacity as an inspector. One of the inmates mistook him for a recent arrival. "What made you go crazy?" "I was trying to make money out of the newspaper business," replied the editor, to humor the demented one. "Rats, you're not crazy; you're just a plain darn fool," was the lunatic's comment. "Did you write this report on my lecture, 'The Curse of Whiskey'?" "Yes, madam." "Then kindly explain what you mean by saying, 'The lecturer was evidently full of her subject!'" We clip the following for the benefit of those who doubt the power of the press: "Owing to the overcrowded condition of our columns, a number of births and deaths are unavoidably postponed this week." "Binks has sued us for libel," announced the assistant editor of the sensational paper. The managing editor's face brightened. "Tell him," he said, "that if he will put up a strong fight we'll cheerfully pay the damages and charge them up to the advertising account." Booth Tarkington says that in no state have the newspapers more "journalistic enterprise" than in his native Indiana. While stopping at a little Hoosier hotel in the course of a hunting trip Mr. Tarkington lost one of his dogs. "Have you a newspaper in town?" he asked of the landlord. "Right across the way, there, back of the shoemaker's," the landlord told him. "The Daily News—best little paper of its size in the state." The editor, the printer, and the printer's devil were all busy doing justice to Mr. Tarkington with an "in-our-midst" paragraph when the novelist arrived. "I've just lost a dog," Tarkington explained after he had introduced himself, "and I'd like to have you insert this ad for me: 'Fifty dollars reward for the return of a pointer dog answering to the name of Rex. Disappeared from the yard of the Mansion House Monday night.'" "Why, we are just going to press, sir," the editor said, "but we'll be only too glad to hold the edition for your ad." Mr. Tarkington returned to the hotel. After a few minutes he decided, however, that it might be well to add, "No questions asked" to his advertisement, and returned to the Daily News office. The place was deserted, save for the skinny little freckle-faced devil, who sat perched on a high stool, gazing wistfully out of the window. "Where is everybody?" Tarkington asked. "Gawn to hunt for th' dawg," replied the boy. "You are the greatest inventor in the world," exclaimed a newspaper man to Alexander Graham Bell. "Oh, no, my friend, I'm not," said Professor Bell. "I've never been a reporter." Not long ago a city editor in Ottumwa, Iowa, was told over the telephone that a prominent citizen had just died suddenly. He called a reporter and told him to rush out and get the "story." Twenty minutes later the reporter returned, sat down at his desk, and began to rattle off copy on his typewriter. "Well, what about it?" asked the city editor. "Oh, nothing much," replied the reporter, without looking up. "He was walking along the street when he suddenly clasped his hands to his heart and said, 'I'm going to die!' Then he leaned up against a fence and made good." Enraged over something the local newspaper had printed about him, a subscriber burst into the editor's office in search of the responsible reporter. "Who are you?" he demanded, glaring at the editor, who was also the main stockholder. "I'm the newspaper," was the calm reply. "And who are you?" he next inquired, turning his resentful gaze on the chocolate-colored office-devil clearing out the waste basket. "Me?" rejoined the darky, grinning from ear to ear. "Ah guess ah's de cul'ud supplement." Four hostile newspapers are more to be feared than a thousand bayonets.—Napoleon I. Newspapers always excite curiosity. No one ever lays one down without a feeling of disappointment.—Charles Lamb. OBESITYSee Corpulence. OBITUARIESIf you have frequent fainting spells, accompanied by chills, cramps, corns, bunions, chilblains, epilepsy and jaundice, it is a sign that you are not well, but liable to die any minute. Pay your subscription in advance and thus make yourself solid for a good obituary notice.—Mountain Echo. See also Epitaphs. OBSERVATIONIn his daily half hour confidential talk with his boy an ambitious father tried to give some good advice. "Be observing, my son," said the father on one occasion. "Cultivate the habit of seeing, and you will be a successful man. Study things and remember them. Don't go through the world blindly. Learn to use your eyes. Boys who are observing know a great deal more than those who are not." Willie listened in silence. Several days later when the entire family, consisting of his mother, aunt and uncle, were present, his father said: "Well, Willie, have you kept using your eyes as I advised you to do?" Willie nodded, and after a moment's hesitation said: "I've seen a few things right around the house. Uncle Jim's got a bottle of hair dye hid under his trunk, Aunt Jennie's got an extra set of teeth in her dresser, Ma's got some curls in her hat, and Pa's got a deck of cards and a box of chips behind the books in the secretary." OCCUPATIONSMrs. Hennessey, who was a late arrival in the neighborhood, was entertaining a neighbor one afternoon, when the latter inquired: "An' what does your old man do, Mrs. Hennessey?" "Sure, he's a di'mond-cuttter." "Ye don't mane it!" "Yis; he cuts th' grass off th' baseball grounds."—L.F. Clarke. All business men are apt to use the technical terms of their daily labors in situations outside of working hours. One time a railroad man was entertaining his pastor at dinner and his sons, who had to wait until their elders had finished got into mischief. At the end of the meal, their father excused himself for a moment saying he had to "switch some empties." "Professor," said Miss Skylight, "I want you to suggest a course in life for me. I have thought of journalism—" "What are your own inclinations?" "Oh, my soul yearns and throbs and pulsates with an ambition to give the world a life-work that shall be marvelous in its scope, and weirdly entrancing in the vastness of its structural beauty!" "Woman, you're born to be a milliner." A woman, when asked her husband's occupation, said he was a mixologist. The city directory called him a bartender. "A good turkey dinner and mince pie," said a well-known after-dinner orator, "always puts us in a lethargic mood—makes us feel, in fact, like the natives of Nola Chucky. In Nola Chucky one day I said to a man: "'What is the principal occupation of this town?' "'Wall, boss,' the man answered, yawning, 'in winter they mostly sets on the east side of the house and follers the sun around to the west, and in summer they sets on the west side and follers the shade around to the east.'" JONES—"How'd this happen? The last time I was here you were running a fish-market, and now you've got a cheese-shop." SMITH—"Yes. Well, you see the doctor said I needed a change of air." The ugliest of trades have their moments of pleasure. Now, if I were a grave-digger, or even a hangman, there are some people I could work for with a great deal of enjoyment—Douglas Jerrold. OCEANA resident of Nahant tells this one on a new servant his wife took down from Boston. "Did you sleep well, Mary?" the girl was asked the following morning. "Sure, I did not, ma'am," was the reply; "the snorin' of the ocean kept me awake all night." Love the sea? I dote upon it—from the beach.—Douglas Jerrold. I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more. —Barry Cornwall. OFFICE BOYS"Have you had any experience as an office-boy?" "I should say I had, mister; why, I'm a dummy director in three mining-companies now." OFFICE-SEEKERSA gentleman, not at all wealthy, who had at one time represented in Congress, through a couple of terms a district not far from the national capitol, moved to California where in a year or so he rose to be sufficiently prominent to become a congressional subject, and he was visited by the central committee of his district to be talked to. "We want you," said the spokesman, "to accept the nomination for Congress." "I can't do it, gentlemen," he responded promptly. "You must," the spokesman demanded. "But I can't," he insisted. "I'm too poor." "Oh, that will be all right; we've got plenty of money for the campaign." "But that is nothing," contended the gentleman; "it's the expense in Washington. I've been there, and know all about it." "Well you didn't lose by it, and it doesn't cost any more because you come from California." The gentleman became very earnest. "Doesn't it?" he exclaimed in a business-like tone. "Why my dear sirs, I used to have to send home every month about half a dozen busted office-seeker constituents, and the fare was only $3 apiece, and I could stand it, but it would cost me over $100 a head to send them out here, and I'm no millionaire; therefore, as much as I regret it, I must insist on declining." "On a trip to Washington," said Col. W.F. Cody. "I had for a companion Sousa, the band leader. We had berths opposite each other. Early one morning as we approached the capital I thought I would have a little fun. I got a morning paper, and, after rustling it a few minutes, I said to Sousa: "'That's the greatest order Cleveland has just issued!' "'What's that?' came from the opposite berth. "'Why he's ordered all the office-seekers rounded up at the depot and sent home.' "You should have seen the general consternation that ensued. From almost every berth on the car a head came out from between the curtains, and with one accord nearly every man shouted: 'What's that?'" OLD AGESee Age. OLD MASTERSSee Paintings. ONIONSCan the Burbanks of the glorious West Either make or buy or sell An onion with an onion's taste But with a violet's smell? SHE—"They say that an apple a day will keep the doctor away." HE—"Why stop there? An onion a day will keep everybody away." OPERA"Which do you consider the most melodious Wagnerian opera?" asked Mrs. Cumrox. "There are several I haven't heard, aren't there?" rejoined her husband. "Yes." "Then I guess it's one of them." OPPORTUNITYMany a man creates his own lack of opportunities.—Life. Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd, Shall never find it more. —Shakespeare. In life's small things be resolute and great To keep thy muscles trained; know'st thou when fate Thy measure takes? or when she'll say to thee, "I find thee worthy, do this thing for me!" —Emerson. OPTIMISMOptimism is Worry on a spree.—Judge. An optimist is a man who doesn't care what happens just so is doesn't happen to him. An optimist is the fellow who doesn't know what's coming to him.—J.J. O'Connell. An optimist is a woman who thinks that everything is for the best, and that she is the best.-Judge. A political optimist is a fellow who can make sweet, pink lemonade out of the bitter yellow fruit which his opponents hand him. Mayor William S. Jordan, at a Democratic banquet in Jacksonville, said of optimism: "Let us cultivate optimism and hopefulness. There is nothing like it. The optimistic man can see a bright side to everything—everything. "A missionary in a slum once laid his hand on a man's shoulder and said: "'Friend, do you hear the solemn ticking of that clock? Tick-tack; tick-tack. And oh, friend, do you know what day it inexorably and relentlessly brings nearer?" "'Yes-pay day,' the other, an honest, optimistic workingman, replied." A Scotsman who has a keen appreciation of the strong characteristics of his countrymen delights in the story of a druggist known both for his thrift and his philosophy. Once he was aroused from a deep sleep by the ringing of his night bell. He went down to his little shop and sold a dose of rather nauseous medicine to a distressed customer. "What profit do you make out of that?" grumbled his wife. "A ha'penny," was the cheerful answer. "And for that bit of money you'll lie awake maybe an hour," she said impatiently. "Never grumble o'er that, woman," was his placid answer. "The dose will keep him awake all night. We must thank heaven we ha' the profit and none o' the pain o' this transaction." A German shoemaker left the gas turned on in his shop one night and upon arriving in the morning struck a match to light it. There was a terrific explosion, and the shoemaker was blown out through the door almost to the middle of the street. A passer-by rushed to his assistance, and, after helping him to rise, inquired if he was injured. The little German gazed at his place of business, which was now burning quite briskly, and said: "No, I ain't hurt. But I got out shust in time, eh?" My own hope is, a sun will pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; That, after Last, returns the First, Tho' a wide compass round be fetched; That what began best, can't prove worst, Nor what God blessed once, prove accursed. —Browning. ORATORSIt is narrated that Colonel Breckenridge, meeting Majah Buffo'd on the streets of Lexington one day asked: "What's the meaning, suh, of the conco's befor' the co't house?" To which the majah replied: "General Buckneh is making a speech. General Buckneh suh, is a bo'n oratah." "What do you mean by bo'n oratah?" "If you or I, suh, were asked how much two and two make, we would reply 'foh.' When this is asked of a bo'n oratah, he replies: 'When in the co'se of human events it becomes necessary to take an integah of the second denomination and add it, suh, to an integah of the same denomination, the result, suh—and I have the science of mathematics to back me up in my judgment—the result, suh, and I say it without feah of successful contradiction, suh-the result is fo'' That's a bo'n oratah." When Demosthenes was asked what was the first part of Oratory, he answered, "Action," and which was the second, he replied, "Action," and which was the third, he still answered "Action."—Plutarch. OUTDOOR LIFEOne day, in the spring of '74, Cap Smith's freight outfit pulled into Helena, Montana. After unloading the freight, the "mule-skinners," to a man, repaired to the Combination Gambling House and proceeded to load themselves. Late in the afternoon, Zeb White, Smith's oldest skinner, having exchanged all of his hard coin for liquid refreshment, zigzagged into the corral, crawled under a wagon, and went to sleep. After supper, Smith, making his nightly rounds, happened on the sleeping Zeb. "Kinder chilly, ain't it?" he asked, after earnestly prodding Zeb with a convenient stick. "I reckon 'tis," Zeb drowsily mumbled. "Ain't yer 'fraid ye'll freeze?" '"Tis cold, ain't it? Say, Cap, jest throw on another wagon, will yer?" PAINTINGSee Art. PAINTINGSShe had engaged a maid recently from the country, and was now employed in showing her newly acquired treasure over the house and enlightening her in regard to various duties, etc. At last they reached the best room. "These," said the mistress of the house, pausing before an extensive row of masculine portraits, "are very valuable, and you must be very careful when dusting. They are old masters." Mary's jaw dropped, and a look of intense wonder overspread her rubicund face. "Lor', mum," she gasped, gazing with bulging eyes on the face of her new employer, "lor', mum, who'd ever 'ave thought you'd been married all these times!" A picture is a poem without words.—Cornificus. PANICSOne night at a theatre some scenery took fire, and a very perceptible odor of burning alarmed the spectators. A panic seemed to be imminent, when an actor appeared on the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "compose yourselves. There is no danger." The audience did not seem reassured. "Ladies and gentlemen," continued the comedian, rising to the necessity of the occasion, "confound it all—do you think if there was any danger I'd be here?" The panic collapsed. PARENTSWilliam, aged five, had been reprimanded by his father for interrupting while his father was telling his mother about the new telephone for their house. He sulked awhile, then went to his mother, and, patting her on the cheeks, said, "Mother dear, I love you." "Don't you love me too?" asked his father. Without glancing at him, William said disdainfully, "The wire's busy." "What does your mother say when you tell her those dreadful lies?" "She says I take after father." "A little lad was desperately ill, but refused to take the medicine the doctor had left. At last his mother gave him up. "Oh, my boy will die; my boy will die," she sobbed. But a voice spoke from the bed, "Don't cry, mother. Father'll be home soon and he'll make me take it." Mrs. White was undoubtedly the disciplinarian of the family. The master of the house, a professor, and consequently a very busy man, was regarded by the children as one of themselves, subject to the laws of "Mother." Mrs. White had been ill for some weeks and although the father felt that the children were showing evidence of running wild, he seemed powerless to correct the fault. One evening at dinner, however, he felt obliged to reprimand Marion severely. "Marion," he said, sternly, "stop that at once, or I shall take you from the table and punish you soundly." He experienced a feeling of profound satisfaction in being able to thus reprove when it was necessary and glanced across the table expecting to see a very demure little miss. Instead, Marion and her little brother exchanged glances and then simultaneously a grin overspread their faces, while Marion said in a mirthful tone: "Oh, Francis, hear father trying to talk like mother!" Robert has lately acquired a stepmother. Hoping to win his affection this new parent has been very lenient with him, while his father, feeling his responsibility, has been unusually strict. The boys of the neighborhood, who had taken pains to warn Robert of the terrible character of stepmothers in general, recently waited on him in a body, and the following conversation was overheard: "How do you like your stepmother, Bob?" "Like her! Why fellers, I just love her. All I wish is I had a stepfather, too." "Well, Bobby, what do you want to be when you grow up?" BOBBY (remembering private seance in the wood-shed)—"A orphan." Little Eleanor's mother was an American, while her father was a German. One day, after Eleanor had been subjected to rather severe disciplinary measures at the hands of her father, she called her mother into another room, closed the door significantly, and said: "Mother, I don't want to meddle in your business, but I wish you'd send that husband of yours back to Germany." The lawyer was sitting at his desk absorbed in the preparation of a brief. So bent was he on his work that he did not hear the door as it was pushed gently open, nor see the curly head that was thrust into his office. A little sob attracted his notice, and, turning he saw a face that was streaked with tears and told plainly that feelings had been hurt. "Well, my little man, did you want to see me?" "Are you a lawyer?" "Yes. What do you want?" "I want"—and there was resolute ring in his voice—"I want a divorce from my papa and mama." PARROTSPat had but a limited knowledge of the bird kingdom. One day, walking down the street, he noticed a green bird in a cage, talking and singing. Thinking to pet it he stroked its head. The bird turned quickly, screaming, "Hello! What do you want?" Pat shied off like a frightened horse, lifting his hat and bowing politely as he stuttered out: "Ex-excuse me s-sir, I thought you was a burrd!" PARTNERSHIPA West Virginia darky, a blacksmith, recently announced a change in his business as follows: "Notice—De co-pardnership heretofore resisting between me and Mose Skinner is hereby resolved. Dem what owe de firm will settle wid me, and dem what de firm owes will settle wid Mose." PASSWORDS"I want to change my password," said the man who had for two years rented a safety-deposit box. "Very well," replied the man in charge. "What is the old one?" "Gladys." "And what do you wish the new one to be?" "Mabel. Gladys has gone to Reno." Senator Tillman not long ago piloted a plain farmer-constituent around the Capitol for a while, and then, having some work to do on the floor, conducted him to the Senate gallery. After an hour or so the visitor approached a gallery door-keeper and said: "My name is Swate. I am a friend of Senator Tillman. He brought me here and I want to go out and look around a bit. I though I would tell you so I can get back in." "That's all right," said the doorkeeper, "but I may not be here when you return. In order to prevent any mistake I will give you the password so you can get your seat again." Swate's eyes rather popped out at this. "What's the word?" he asked. "Idiosyncrasy." "What?" "Idiosyncrasy." "I guess I'll stay in," said Swate. PATIENCE"Your husband seems to be very impatient lately." "Yes, he is, very." "What is the matter with him?" "He is getting tired waiting for a chance to get out where he can sit patiently hour after hour waiting for a fish to nibble at his bait." PATRIOTISMGeneral Gordon, the Confederate commander, used to tell the following story: He was sitting by the roadside one blazing hot day when a dilapidated soldier, his clothing in rags, a shoe lacking, his head bandaged, and his arm in a sling, passed him. He was soliloquizing in this manner: "I love my country. I'd fight for my country. I'd starve and go thirsty for my country. I'd die for my country. But if ever this damn war is over I'll never love another country!" A snobbish young Englishman visiting Washington's home at Mount Vernon was so patronizing as to arouse the wrath of guards and caretakers; but it remained for "Shep" Wright, an aged gardener and one of the first scouts of the Confederate army, to settle the gentleman. Approaching "Shep," the Englishman said: "Ah—er—my man, the hedge! Yes, I see, George got this hedge from dear old England." "Reckon he did," replied "Shep". "He got this whole blooming country from England." Speaking of the policy of the Government of the United States with respect to its troublesome neighbors in Central and South America, "Uncle Joe" Cannon told of a Missouri congressman who is decidedly opposed to any interference in this regard by our country. It seems that this spring the Missourian met an Englishman at Washington with whom he conversed touching affairs in the localities mentioned. The westerner asserted his usual views with considerable forcefulness, winding up with this observation: "The whole trouble is that we Americans need a —— good licking!" "You do, indeed!" promptly asserted the Britisher, as if pleased by the admission. But his exultation was of brief duration, for the Missouri man immediately concluded with: "But there ain't nobody can do it!" A number of Confederate prisoners, during the Civil War, were detained at one of the western military posts under conditions much less unpleasant than those to be found in the ordinary military prison. Most of them appreciated their comparatively good fortune. One young fellow, though, could not be reconciled to association with Yankees under any circumstances, and took advantage of every opportunity to express his feelings. He was continually rubbing it in about the battle of Chickamauga, which had just been fought with such disastrous results for the Union forces. "Maybe we didn't eat you up at Chickamauga!" was the way he generally greeted a bluecoat. The Union men, when they could stand it no longer, reported the matter to General Grant. Grant summoned the prisoner. "See here," said Grant, "I understand that you are continually insulting the men here with reference to the battle of Chickamauga. They have borne with you long enough, and I'm going to give you your choice of two things. You will either take the oath of allegiance to the United States, or be sent to a Northern prison. Choose." The prisoner was silent for some time. "Well," he said at last, in a resigned tone, "I reckon, General, I'll take the oath." The oath was duly administered. Turning to Grant, the fellow then asked, very penitently, if he might speak. "Yes," said the general indifferently. "What is it?" "Why, I was just thinkin', General," he drawled, "they certainly did give us hell at Chickamauga." Historical controversies are creeping into the schools. In a New York public institution attended by many races, during an examination in history the teacher asked a little chap who discovered America. He was evidently thrown into a panic and hesitated, much to the teacher's surprise, to make any reply. "Oh, please, ma'am," he finally stammered, "ask me somethin' else." "Something else, Jimmy? Why should I do that?" "The fellers was talkin' 'bout it yesterday," replied Jimmy, "Pat McGee said it was discovered by an Irish saint. Olaf, he said it was a sailor from Norway, and Giovanni said it was Columbus, an' if you'd a-seen what happened you wouldn't ask a little feller like me." Our country! When right to be kept right; when wrong to be put right!—Carl Schurz. Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations, may she always be in the right; but our country, right or wrong.—Stephen Decatur. There are no points of the compass on the chart of true patriotism.—Robert C. Winthrop. Patriotic exercises and flag worship will avail nothing unless the states give to their people of the kind of government that arouses patriotism.—Franklin Pierce II. PENSIONSWILLIS—"I wonder if there will ever be universal peace." GILLIS—"Sure. All they've got to do is to get the nations to agree that in case of war the winner pays the pensions."—Puck. "Why was it you never married again, Aunt Sallie?" inquired Mrs. McClane of an old colored woman in West Virginia. "'Deed, Miss Ellie," replied the old woman earnestly, "dat daid nigger's wuth moah to me dan a live one. I gits a pension."—Edith Howell Armor. If England had a system of pensions like ours, we should see that "all that was left of the Noble Six Hundred" was six thousand pensioners. PESSIMISMA pessimist is a man who lives with an optimist.—Francis Wilson. How happy are the Pessimists! A bliss without alloy Is theirs when they have proved to us There's no such thing as joy! —Harold Susman. A pessimist is one who, of two evils, chooses them both. "I had a mighty queer surprise this morning," remarked a local stock broker. "I put on my last summer's thin suit on account of this extraordinary hot weather, and in one of the trousers pockets I found a big roll of bills which I had entirely forgotten." "Were any of them receipted?" asked a pessimist. To tell men that they cannot help themselves is to fling them into recklessness and despair.—Fronde. With earth's first clay they did the last man knead, And there of the last harvest sowed the seed: And the first morning of creation wrote What the last dawn of reckoning shall read. Yesterday this day's madness did prepare; Tomorrow's silence, triumph, or despair. Drink! For you know not whence you came, nor why; Drink! For you know not why you go, nor where. —Omar Khayyam PHILADELPHIAA Staten Island man, when the mosquitoes began to get busy in the borough across the bay, has been in the habit every summer of transplanting his family to the Delaware Water Gap for a few weeks. They were discussing their plans the other day, when the oldest boy, aged eight, looked up from his geography and said: "Pop, Philadelphia is on the Delaware River, isn't it?" Pop replied that such was the case. "I wonder if that's what makes the Delaware Water Gap?" insinuated the youngster.—S.S. Stinson. Among the guests at an informal dinner in New York was a bright Philadelphia girl. "These are snails," said a gentleman next to her, when the dainty was served. "I suppose Philadelphia people don't eat them for fear of cannibalism." "Oh, no," was her instant reply; "it isn't that. We couldn't catch them." PHILANTHROPISTSLittle grains of short weight, Little crooked twists, Fill the land with magnates And philanthropists. See also Charity. PHILOSOPHYPhilosophy is finding out how many things there are in the world which you can't have if you want them, and don't want if you can have them.—Puck. PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONSThe eight-year-old son of a Baltimore physician, together with a friend, was playing in his father's office, during the absence of the doctor, when suddenly the first lad threw open a closet door and disclosed to the terrified gaze of his little friend an articulated skeleton. When the visitor had sufficiently recovered from his shock to stand the announcement the doctor's son explained that his father was extremely proud of that skeleton. "Is he?" asked the other. "Why?" "I don't know," was the answer; "maybe it was his first patient." The doctor stood by the bedside, and looked gravely down at the sick man. "I can not hide from you the fact that you are very ill," he said. "Is there any one you would like to see?" "Yes," said the sufferer faintly. "Who is it?" "Another doctor."—Judge. "Doctor, I want you to look after my office while I'm on my vacation." "But I've just graduated, doctor. Have had no experience." "That's all right, my boy. My practice is strictly fashionable. Tell the men to play golf and ship the lady patients off to Europe." An old darky once lay seriously ill of fever and was treated for a long time by one doctor, and then another doctor, for some reason, came and took the first one's place. The second physician made a thorough examination of the patient. At the end he said, "Did the other doctor take your temperature?" "Ah dunno, sah," the patient answered. "Ah hain't missed nuthin' so far but mah watch." There had been an epidemic of colds in the town, and one physician who had had scarcely any sleep for two days called upon a patient—an Irishman—who was suffering from pneumonia, and as he leaned over to hear the patient's respiration he called upon Pat to count. The doctor was so fatigued that he fell asleep, with his ear on the sick man's chest. It seemed but a minute when he suddenly awoke to hear Pat still counting: "Tin thousand an' sivinty-six, tin thousand an' sivinty-sivin—" FIRST DOCTOR—"I operated on him for appendicitis." SECOND DOCTOR—"What was the matter with him?"—Life. FUSSY LADY PATIENT—"I was suffering so much, doctor, that I wanted to die." DOCTOR—"You did right to call me in, dear lady." MEDICAL STUDENT—"What did you operate on that man for?" EMINENT SURGEON—"Two hundred dollars." MEDICAL STUDENT—"I mean what did he have?" EMINENT SURGEON—"Two hundred dollars." The three degrees in medical treatment—Positive, ill; comparative, pill; superlative, bill. "What caused the coolness between you and that young doctor? I thought you were engaged." "His writing is rather illegible. He sent me a note calling for 10,000 kisses." "Well?" "I thought it was a prescription, and took it to the druggist to be filled." A tourist while traveling in the north of Scotland, far away from anywhere, exclaimed to one of the natives: "Why, what do you do when any of you are ill? You can never get a doctor." "Nae, sir," replied Sandy. "We've jist to dee a naitural death." When the physician gives you medicine and tells you to take it, you take it. "Yours not to reason why; yours but to do and die." Physicians, of all men, are most happy: whatever good success soever they have, the world proclaimeth; and what faults they commit, the earth covereth.—Quarles. This is the way that physicians mend or end us, Secundum artem: but although we sneer In health—when ill, we call them to attend us, Without the least propensity to jeer. —Byron. See also Bills. PICKPOCKETSSee Thieves; Wives. PINS"Oh, dear!" sighed the wife as she was dressing for a dinner-party, "I can't find a pin anywhere. I wonder where all the pins go to, anyway?" "That's a difficult question to answer," replied her husband, "because they are always pointed in one direction and headed in another." PITTSBURG"How about that airship?" "It went up in smoke." "Burned, eh?" "Oh, no. Made an ascension at Pittsburg." SKYBOUGH—"Why have you put that vacuum cleaner in front of your airship?" KLOUDLEIGH—"To clear a path. I have an engagement to sail over Pittsburg." A man just back from South America was describing a volcanic disturbance. "I was smoking a cigar before the door of my hotel," said he, "when I was startled by a rather violent earthquake. The next instant the sun was obscured and darkness settled over the city. Looking in the direction of the distant volcano, I saw heavy clouds of smoke rolling from it, with an occasional tongue of flame flashing against the dark sky. "Some of the natives about me were on their knees praying; others darted aimlessly about, crazed with terror and shouting for mercy. The landlord of the hotel rushed out and seized me by the arm. "'To the harbor!' he cried in my ear. "Together we hurried down the narrow street. As we panted along, the dark smoke whirled in our faces, and a dangerous shower of red-hot cinders sizzled about us. Do you know, I don't believe I was ever so homesick in all my life!" "Homesick?" gasped the listener. "Homesick at a time like that?" "Sure. I live in Pittsburg, you know." PLAYThe mother heard a great commotion, as of cyclones mixed up with battering-rams, and she hurried upstairs to discover what was the matter. There she found Tommie sitting in the middle of the floor with a broad smile on his face. "Oh, Mama," said he delightedly, "I've locked Grandpa and Uncle George in the cupboard, and when they get a little angrier I am going to play Daniel in the lion's den." PLEASUREBILLY—"Huh! I bet you didn't have a good time at your birthday party yesterday." WILLIE—"I bet I did." BILLY—"Then why ain't you sick today?" Winnie had been very naughty, and her mamma said: "Don't you know you will never go to Heaven if you are so naughty?" After thinking a moment she said: "Oh, well, I have been to the circus once and 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' twice. I can't expect to go everywhere." In Concord, New Hampshire, they tell of an old chap who made his wife keep a cash account. Each week he would go over it, growling and grumbling. On one such occasion he delivered himself of the following: "Look here, Sarah, mustard-plasters, fifty cents; three teeth extracted, two dollars! There's two dollars and a half in one week spent for your own private pleasure. Do you think I am made of money?" Here's to beauty, wit and wine and to a full stomach, a full purse and a light heart. A dinner, coffee and cigars, Of friends, a half a score. Each favorite vintage in its turn,— What man could wish for more? The roses of pleasure seldom last long enough to adorn the brow of him who plucks them; for they are the only roses which do not retain their sweetness after they have lost their beauty.—Hannah More. See also Amusements. POETRYPoetry is a gift we are told, but most editors won't take it even at that. POETSEDITOR—"Have you submitted this poem anywhere else?" JOKESMITH—"No, sir." EDITOR—"Then where did you get that black eye?"—Satire. "Why is it," asked the persistent poetess, "that you always insist that we write on one side of the paper only? Why not on both?" In that moment the editor experienced an access of courage—courage to protest against the accumulated wrongs of his kind. "One side of the paper, madame," he made answer, "is in the nature of a compromise." "A compromise?" "A compromise. What we really desire, if we could have our way, is not one, or both, but neither." Sir Lewis Morris was complaining to Oscar Wilde about the neglect of his poems by the press. "It is a complete conspiracy of silence against me, a conspiracy of silence. What ought I to do, Oscar?" "Join it," replied Wilde. God's prophets of the Beautiful, These Poets were. —E.B. Browning. We call those poets who are first to mark Through earth's dull mist the coming of the dawn,— Who see in twilight's gloom the first pale spark, While others only note that day is gone. —O.W. Holmes. POLICEA man who was "wanted" in Russia had been photographed in six different positions, and the pictures duly circulated among the police department. A few days later the chief of police wrote to headquarters: "Sir, I have duly received the portraits of the six miscreants. I have arrested five of them, and the sixth will be secured shortly." "I had a message from the Black Hand," said the resident of Graftburg. "They told me to leave $2,000 in a vacant house in a certain street." "Did you tell the police?" "Right away." "What did they do?" "They said that while I was about it I might leave them a couple of thousand in the same place." Recipe for a policeman: To a quart of boiling temper add a pint of Irish stew Together with cracked nuts, long beats and slugs; Serve hot with mangled citizens who ask the time of day— The receipt is much the same for making thugs. —Life. See also Servants. POLITENESSSee Courtesy; Etiquet. POLITICAL PARTIESZOO SUPERINTENDENT—"What was all the rumpus out there this morning?" ATTENDANT—"The bull moose and the elephant were fighting over their feed." "What happened?" "The donkey ate it."—Life. POLITICIANSPoliticians always belong to the opposite party. The man who goes into politics as a business has no business to go into politics.—Life. A political orator, evidently better acquainted with western geography than with the language of the Greeks, recently exclaimed with fervor that his principles should prevail "from Alpha to Omaha." POLITICIAN—"Congratulate me, my dear, I've won the nomination." HIS WIFE (in surprise)—"Honestly?" POLITICIAN—"Now what in thunder did you want to bring up that point for?" "What makes you think the baby is going to be a great politician?" asked the young mother, anxiously. "I'll tell you," answered the young father, confidently; "he can say more things that sound well and mean nothing at all than any kid I ever saw." "The mere proposal to set the politician to watch the capitalist has been disturbed by the rather disconcerting discovery that they are both the same man. We are past the point where being a capitalist is the only way of becoming a politician, and we are dangerously near the point where being a politician is much the quickest way of becoming a capitalist."—G.K. Chesterton. At a political meeting the speakers and the audience were much annoyed and disturbed by a man who constantly called out: "Mr. Henry! Henry, Henry, Henry! I call for Mr. Henry!" After several interruptions of this kind during each speech, a young man ascended the platform, and began an eloquent and impassioned speech in which he handled the issues of the day with easy familiarity. He was in the midst of a glowing period when suddenly the old cry echoed through the hall: "Mr. Henry! Henry, Henry, Henry! I call for Mr. Henry!" With a word to the speaker, the chairman stepped to the front of the platform and remarked that it would oblige the audience very much if the gentleman in the rear of the hall would refrain from any further calls for Mr. Henry, as that gentleman was then addressing the meeting. "Mr. Henry? Is that Mr. Henry?" came in astonished tones from the rear. "Thunder! that can't be him. Why, that's the young man that asked me to call for Mr. Henry." A political speaker, while making a speech, paused in the midst of it and exclaimed: "Now gentlemen, what do you think?" A man rose in the assembly, and with one eye partially closed, replied modestly, with a strong Scotch brogue: "I think, sir, I do, indeed, sir—I think if you and I were to stump the country together we could tell more lies than any other two men in the country, sir, and I'd not say a word myself during the whole time, sir." The Rev. Dr. Biddell tells a lively story about a Presbyterian minister who had a young son, a lad about ten years of age. He was endeavoring to bring him up in the way he should go, and was one day asked by a friend what he intended to make of him. In reply he said: "I am watching the indications. I have a plan which I propose trying with the boy. It is this: I am going to place in my parlor a Bible, an apple and a silver dollar. Then I am going to leave the room and call in the boy. I am going to watch him from some convenient place without letting him know that he is seen. Then, if he chooses the Bible, I shall make a preacher of him; if he takes the apple, a farmer he shall be; but if he chooses the dollar, I will make him a business man." The plan was carried out. The arrangements were made and the boy called in from his play. After a little while the preacher and his wife softly entered the room. There was the youngster. He was seated on the Bible, in one hand was the apple, from which he was just taking a bite, and in the other he clasped the silver dollar. The good man turned to his consort. "Wife," he said, "the boy is a hog. I shall make a politician of him." Senator Mark Hanna was walking through his mill one day when he heard a boy say: "I wish I had Hanna's money and he was in the poorhouse." When he returned to the office the senator sent for the lad, who was plainly mystified by the summons. "So you wish you had my money and I was in the poorhouse," said the great man grimly. "Now supposing you had your wish, what would you do?" "Well," said the boy quickly, his droll grin showing his appreciation of the situation, "I guess I'd get you out of the poorhouse the first thing." Mr. Hanna roared with laughter and dismissed the youth. "You might as well push that boy along," he said to one of his assistants; "he's too good a politician to be kept down." See also Candidates; Public Speakers. POLITICSPolitics consists of two sides and a fence. If I were asked to define politics in relation to the British public, I should define it as a spasm of pain recurring once in every four or five years.—A.E.W. Mason. LITTLE CLARENCE (who has an inquiring mind)—"Papa, the Forty Thieves—" MR. CALLIPERS—"Now, my son, you are too young to talk politics."—Puck. "Many a man," remarked the milk toast philosopher, "has gone into politics with a fine future, and come out with a terrible past." Lord Dufferin delivered an address before the Greek class of the McGill University about which a reporter wrote: "His lordship spoke to the class in the purest ancient Greek, without mispronouncing a word or making the slightest grammatical solecism." "Good heavens!" remarked Sir Hector Langevin to the late Sir John A. Macdonald, "how did the reporter know that!" "I told him," was the Conservative statesman's answer. "But you don't know Greek." "True; but I know a little about politics." Little Millie's father and grandfather were Republicans; and, as election drew near, they spoke of their opponents with increasing warmth, never heeding Millie's attentive ears and wondering eyes. One night, however, as the little maid was preparing for bed, she whispered in a frightened voice: "Oh, mamma, I don't dare to go upstairs. I'm afraid there's a Democrat under the bed." "The shortest after-dinner speech I ever heard," said Cy Warman, the poet, "was at a dinner in Providence." "A man was assigned to the topic, 'The Christian in Politics.' When he was called upon he arose, bowed and said: 'Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen: The Christian in Politics—he ain't.'" Politics is but the common pulse-beat of which revolution is the fever spasm.—Wendell Phillips. POVERTYPoverty is no disgrace, but that's about all that can be said in its favor. A traveler passing through the Broad Top Mountain district in northern Bedford County, Pennsylvania, last summer, came across a lad of sixteen cultivating a patch of miserable potatoes. He remarked upon their unpromising appearance and expressed pity for anyone who had to dig a living out of such soil. "I don't need no pity," said the boy resentfully. The traveler hastened to soothe his wounded pride. But in the offended tone of one who has been misjudged the boy added; "I ain't as poor as you think. I'm only workin' here. I don't own this place." One day an inspector of a New York tenement-house found four families living in one room, chalk lines being drawn across in such manner as to mark out a quarter for each family. "How do you get along here?" inquired the inspector. "Very well," was the reply. "Only the man in the farthest corner keeps boarders." There is no man so poor but that he can afford to keep one dog, and I hev seen them so poor that they could afford to keep three.—Josh Billings. May poverty be always a day's march behind us. Not he who has little, but he who wishes for more, is poor.—Seneca. PRAISEWIFE (complainingly)—"You never praise me up to any one." HUB—"I don't, eh! You should hear me describe you at the intelligence office when I'm trying to hire a cook." "What sort of a man is he?" "Well, he's just what I've been looking for—a generous soul, with a limousine body."—Life. PRAYER MEETINGSA foreigner who attended a prayer meeting in Indiana was asked what the assistants did. "Not very much," he said, "only they sin and bray." PRAYERSDuring the winter the village preacher was taken sick, and several of his children were also afflicted with the mumps. One day a number of the devout church members called to pray for the family. While they were about it a boy, the son of a member living in the country, knocked at the preacher's door. He had his arms full of things. "What have you there?" a deacon asked him. "Pa's prayers for a happy Thanksgiving," the boy answered, as he proceeded to unload potatoes, bacon, flour and other provisions for the afflicted family. A little girl in Washington surprised her mother the other day by closing her evening prayers in these words: "Amen; good bye; ring off." TEACHER—"Now, Tommy, suppose a man gave you $100 to keep for him and then died, what would you do? Would you pray for him?" TOMMY—"No, sir; but I would pray for another like him." A well-known revivalist whose work has been principally among the negroes of a certain section of the South remembers one service conducted by him that was not entirely successful. He had had very poor attendance, and spent much time in questioning the darkies as to their reason for not attending. "Why were you not at our revival?" he asked one old man, whom he encountered on the road. "Oh, I dunno," said the backward one. "Don't you ever pray?" demanded the preacher. The old man shook his head. "No," said he; "I carries a rabbit's foot."—Taylor Edwards. A little girl attending an Episcopal church for the first time, was amazed to see all kneel suddenly. She asked her mother what they were going to do. Her mother replied, "Hush, they're going to say their prayers." "What with all their clothes on?" The new minister in a Georgia church was delivering his first sermon. The darky janitor was a critical listener from a back corner of the church. The minister's sermon was eloquent, and his prayers seemed to cover the whole category of human wants. After the services one of the deacons asked the old darky what he thought of the new minister. "Don't you think he offers up a good prayer, Joe?" "Ah mos' suhtainly does, boss. Why, dat man axed de good Lord fo' things dat de odder preacher didn't even know He had!" Hilma was always glad to say her prayers, but she wanted to be sure that she was heard in the heavens above as well as on the earth beneath. One night, after the usual "Amen," she dropped her head upon her pillow and closed her eyes. After a moment she lifted her hand and, waving it aloft, said, "Oh, Lord! this prayer comes from 203 Selden Avenue." Willie's mother had told him that if he went to the river to play he should go to bed. One day she was away, and on coming home about two o'clock in the afternoon found Willie in bed. "What are you in bed for?" asked his mother. "I went to the river to play, and I knew you would put me in bed, so I didn't wait for you to come." "Did you say your prayers before you went to bed?" asked his mother. "No," said Willie. "You don't suppose God would be loafing around here this time of day, do you? He's at the office." Little Polly, coming in from her walk one morning, informed her mother that she had seen a lion in the park. No amount of persuasion or reasoning could make her vary her statement one hairbreadth. That night, when she slipped down on her knees to say her prayers, her mother said, "Polly, ask God to forgive you for that fib." Polly hid her face for a moment. Then she looked straight into her mother's eyes, her own eyes shining like stars, and said, "I did ask him, mamma, dearest, and he said, 'Don't mention it, Miss Polly; that big yellow dog has often fooled me.'" Prayer is the spirit speaking truth to Truth.—Bailey. Pray to be perfect, though material leaven Forbid the spirit so on earth to be; But if for any wish thou darest not pray, Then pray to God to cast that wish away. —Hartley Coleridge. See also Courage. PREACHINGThe services in the chapel of a certain western university are from time to time conducted by eminent clergymen of many denominations and from many cities. On one occasion, when one of these visiting divines asked the president how long he should speak, that witty officer replied: "There is no limit, Doctor, upon the time you may preach; but I may tell you that there is a tradition here that the most souls are saved during the first twenty-five minutes." One Sunday morning a certain young pastor in his first charge announced nervously: "I will take for my text the words, 'And they fed five men with five thousand loaves of bread and two thousand fishes.'" At this misquotation an old parishioner from his seat in the amen corner said audibly: "That's no miracle—I could do it myself." The young preacher said nothing at the time, but the next Sunday he announced the same text again. This time he got it right: "And they fed five thousand men on five loaves of bread and two fishes." He waited a moment, and then, leaning over the pulpit and looking at the amen corner, he said: "And could you do that, too, Mr. Smith?" "Of course I could," Mr. Smith replied. "And how would you do it?" said the preacher. "With what was left over from last Sunday," said Mr. Smith. The late Bishop Foss once visited a Philadelphia physician for some trifling ailment. "Do you, sir," the doctor asked, in the course of his examination, "talk in your sleep?" "No sir," answered the bishop. "I talk in other people's. Aren't you aware that I am a divine?" "Yes, sir," said the irate man, "I got even with that clergyman. I slurred him. Why, I hired one hundred people to attend his church and go to sleep before he had preached five minutes." A noted eastern Judge when visiting in the west went to church on Sunday; which isn't so remarkable as the fact that he knew beforehand that the preacher was exceedingly tedious and long winded to the last degree. After the service the preacher met the Judge in the vestibule and said: "Well, your Honor, how did you like the sermon?" "Oh, most wonderfully," replied the Judge. "It was like the peace of God; for it passed all understanding, and, like His mercy, I thought it would have endured forever." The preacher's evening discourse was dry and long, and the congregation gradually melted away. The sexton tiptoed up to the pulpit and slipped a note under one corner of the Bible. It read: "When you are through, will you please turn off the lights, lock the door, and put the key under the mat?" The new minister's first sermon was very touching and created much favorable comment among the members of the church. One morning, a few days later, his nine-year-old son happened to be alone in the pastor's study and with childish curiosity started to read through some papers on the desk. They happened to be this identical sermon, but he was most interested in the marginal notes. In one place in the margin were written the words, "Cry a little." Further on in the discourse appeared another marginal remark, "Cry a little more." On the next to the last sheet the boy found his good father had penned another remark, "Cry like thunder." A young preacher, who was staying at a clergy-house, was in the habit of retiring to his room for an hour or more each day to practice pulpit oratory. At such times he filled the house with sounds of fervor and pathos, and emptied it of almost everything else. Phillips Brooks chanced to be visiting a friend in this house one day when the budding orator was holding forth. "Gracious me!" exclaimed the Bishop, starting up in assumed terror, "pray, what might that be?" "Sit down, Bishop," his friend replied. "That's only young D—— practising what he preaches." A distinguished theologian was invited to make an address before a Sunday-school. The divine spoke for over an hour and his remarks were of too deep a character for the average juvenile mind to comprehend. At the conclusion, the superintendent, according to custom, requested some one in the school to name an appropriate hymn to be sung. "Sing 'Revive Us Again,'" shouted a boy in the rear of the room. A clergyman was once sent for in the middle of the night by one of his woman parishioners. "Well, my good woman," said he, "so you are ill and require the consolations of religion? What can I do for you?" "No," replied the old lady, "I am only nervous and can't sleep!" "But how can I help that?" said the parson. "Oh, sir, you always put me to sleep so nicely when I go to church that I thought if you would only preach a little for me!" I never see my rector's eyes; He hides their light divine; For when he prays, he shuts his own, And when he preaches, mine. A stranger entered the church in the middle of the sermon and seated himself in the back pew. After a while he began to fidget. Leaning over to the white-haired man at his side, evidently an old member of the congregation, he whispered: "How long has he been preaching?" "Thirty or forty years, I think," the old man answered. "I'll stay then," decided the stranger. "He must be nearly done." Once upon a time there was an Indian named Big Smoke, employed as a missionary to his fellow Smokes. A white man encountering Big Smoke, asked him what he did for a living. "Umph!" said Big Smoke, "me preach." "That so? What do you get for preaching?" "Me get ten dollars a year." "Well," said the white man, "that's damn poor pay." "Umph!" said Big Smoke, "me damn poor preacher." See also Clergy. PRESCRIPTIONSAfter a month's work in intensely warm weather a gardener in the suburbs became ill, and the anxious little wife sent for a doctor, who wrote a prescription after examining the patient. The doctor, upon departing, said: "Just let your husband take that and you'll find he will be all right in a short time." Next day the doctor called again, and the wife opened the door, her face beaming with smiles. "Sure, that was a wonderful wee bit of paper you left yesterday," she exclaimed. "William is better to-day." "I'm glad to hear that," said the much-pleased medical man. "Not but what I hadn't a big job to get him to swallow it." she continued, "but, sure, I just wrapped up the wee bit of paper quite small and put it in a spoonful of jam and William swallowed it unbeknownst. By night he was entirely better." PRESENCE OF MIND"What did you do when you met the train-robber face to face?" "I explained that I had been interviewed by the ticket-seller, the luggage-carriers, the dining-car waiters, and the sleeping-car porters and borrowed a dollar from him." PRINTERSThe master of all trades: He beats the farmer with his fast "hoe," the carpenter with his "rule," and the mason in "setting up tall columns"; and he surpasses the lawyer and the doctor in attending to the "cases," and beats the parson in the management of the devil. PRISONSA man arrested for stealing chickens was brought to trial. The case was given to the jury, who brought him in guilty, and the judge sentenced him to three months' imprisonment. The jailer was a jovial man, fond of a smile, and feeling particularly good on that particular day, considered himself insulted when the prisoner looking around the cell told him it was dirty, and not fit for a hog to be put in. One word brought on another, till finally the jailer told the prisoner if he did not behave himself he would put him out. To which the prisoner replied: "I will give you to understand, sir, I have as good a right here as you have!" SHERIFF—"That fellow who just left jail is going to be arrested again soon." "How do you know?" SHERIFF—"He chopped my wood, carried the water, and mended my socks. I can't get along without him." PRODIGALS"Why did the father of the prodigal son fall on his neck and weep?" "Cos he had ter kill the fatted calf, an' de son wasn't wort' it." PROFANITYTHE RECTOR—"It's terrible for a man like you to make every other word an oath." THE MAN—"Oh, well, I swear a good deal and you pray a good deal, but we don't neither of us mean nuthin' by it." FIRST DEAF MUTE—"He wasn't so very angry, was he?" SECOND DEAF MUTE—"He was so wild that the words he used almost blistered his fingers." The little daughter of a clergyman stubbed her toe and said, "Darn!" "I'll give you ten cents," said father, "if you'll never say that word again." A few days afterward she came to him and said: "Papa, I've got a word worth half a dollar." Very frequently the winter highways of the Yukon valley are mere trails, traversed only by dog-sledges. One of the bishops in Alaska, who was very fond of that mode of travel, encountered a miner coming out with his dog-team, and stopped to ask him what kind of a road he had come over. The miner responded with a stream of forcible and picturesque profanity, winding up with: "And what kind o' trail did you have?" "Same as yours," replied the bishop feelingly.—Elgin Burroughs. A scrupulous priest of Kildare, Used to pay a rude peasant to swear, Who would paint the air blue, For an hour or two, While his reverence wrestled in prayer. Donald and Jeanie were putting down a carpet. Donald slammed the end of his thumb with the hammer and began to pour forth his soul in language befitting the occasion. "Donald, Donald!" shrieked Jeanie, horrified. "Dinna swear that way!" "Wummun!" vociferated Donald; "gin ye know ony better way, now is the time to let me know it!" "It is not always necessary to make a direct accusation," said the lawyer who was asking damages because insinuations had been made against his client's good name. "You may have heard of the woman who called to the hired girl, 'Mary, Mary. come here and take the parrot downstairs—the master has dropped his collar button!'" Little Bartholomew's mother overheard him swearing like a mule-driver. He displayed a fluency that overwhelmed her. She took him to task, explaining the wickedness of profanity as well as its vulgarity. She asked where he had learned all those dreadful words. Bartholomew announced that Cavert, one of his playmates, had taught him. Cavert's mother was straightway informed and Cavert was brought to book. He vigorously denied having instructed Bartholomew, and neither threats nor tears could make him confess. At last he burst out: "I didn't tell Bartholomew any cuss words. Why should I know how to cuss any better than he does? Hasn't his father got an automobile, too?" They were in Italy together. "If you would let me curse them black and blue," said the groom, "we shouldn't have to wait so long for the trunks." "But, darling, please don't. It would distress me so," murmured the bride. The groom went off, but quickly returned with the porters before him trundling the trunks at a double quick. "Oh, dearest, how did you do it? You didn't—?" "Not at all. I thought of something that did quite as well. I said, 'S-s-s-susquehanna, R-r-r-rappahannock!'"—Cornelia C. Ward. A school girl was required to write an essay of two hundred and fifty words about a motorcar. She submitted the following: "My uncle bought a motorcar. He was riding in the country when it busted up a hill. I guess this is about fifty words. The other two hundred are what my uncle said when he was walking back to town, but they are not fit for publication." The ashman was raising a can of ashes above his head to dump the contents into his cart, when the bottom of the can came out. Ethel saw it and ran in and told her mother. "I hope you didn't listen to what he said," the mother remarked. "He didn't say a word to me," replied the little girl; "he just walked right off by the side of his cart, talking to God." A young man entered the jeweler's store and bought a ring, which he ordered engraved. The jeweler asked what name. "George Osborne to Harriet Lewis, but I prefer only the initials, G.O. to H.L." For it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him.—Shakespeare. PROHIBITION"Talking about dry towns, have you ever been in Leavenworth, Kansas?" asked the commercial traveler in the smoking-car. "No? Well, that's a dry town for you, all right." "They can't sell liquor at all there?" asked one of the men. "Only if you had been bitten by a snake," said the drummer. "They have only one snake in town, and when I got to it the other day after standing in line for nearly half a day it was too tired to bite." It was prohibition country. As soon as the train pulled up, a seedy little man with a covered basket on his arm hurried to the open windows of the smoker and exhibited a quart bottle filled with rich, dark fluid. "Want to buy some nice cold tea?" he asked, with just the suspicion of a wink. Two thirsty-looking cattlemen brightened visibly, and each paid a dollar for a bottle. "Wait until you get outer the station before you take a drink," the little man cautioned them. "I don't wanter get in trouble." He found three other customers before the train pulled out, in each case repeating his warning. "You seem to be doing a pretty good business," remarked a man who had watched it all. "But I don't see why you'd run any more risk of getting in trouble if they took a drink before the train started." "Ye don't, hey? Well, what them bottles had in 'em, pardner, was real cold tea." PROMOTINGMr. Harcourt, the Secretary of State for the Colonies, at the British North Borneo dinner, said that a City friend of his was approached with a view to floating a rubber company. His friend was quite ready. "How many trees have you?" he asked. "We have not got any trees," was the answer. "How much land have you?" "We have no land." "What then have you got?" "I have a bag of seeds!" There are many tales about the caution of Russell Sage and the cleverness with which he outwitted those who sought to get some of his money from him. Two brilliant promoters went to him one time and presented a scheme. The financier listened for an hour, and when they departed they were told that Mr. Sage's decision would be mailed to them in a few days. "I think we have got Uncle Russell," said one of the promoters. "I really believe we have won his confidence." "I fear not," observed the other doubtfully. "He is too suspicious." "Suspicious? I didn't observe any sign of it." "Didn't you notice that he counted his fingers after I had shaken hands with him and we were coming away?" PROMOTIONPromotion cometh neither from the east nor the west, but from the cemetery.—Edward Sanford Martin. PROMPTNESS"Are you first in anything at school, Earlie?" "First out of the building when the bell rings." The head of a large business house bought a number of those "Do it now" signs and hung them up around his offices. When, after the first few days of those signs, the business man counted up the results, he found that the cashier had skipped out with $20,000, the head bookkeeper had eloped with the stenographer, three clerks had asked for a raise in salary, and the office boy had lit out for the west to become a highwayman. "Are you waiting for me, dear?" she said, coming downstairs at last, after spending half an hour fixing her hat. "Waiting," exclaimed the impatient man. "Oh no, not waiting—sojourning." PRONUNCIATIONA tale is told of a Kansas minister, a great precisionist in the use of words, whose exactness sometimes destroyed the force of what he was saying. On one occasion, in the course of an eloquent prayer, he pleaded: "O Lord! waken thy cause in the hearts of this congregation and give them new eyes to see and new impulse to do. Send down Thy lev-er or lee-ver, according to Webster's or Worcester's dictionary, whichever Thou usest, and pry them into activity." "I'm at the head of my class, pa," said Willie. "Dear me, son, how did that happen?" cried his father. "Why, the teacher asked us this morning how to pronounce C-h-i-h-u-a-h-u-a, and nobody knew," said Willie, "but when she got down to me I sneezed and she said that was right." See also Liars. PROPORTIONA middle-aged colored woman in a Georgia village, hearing a commotion in a neighbor's cabin, looked in at the door. On the floor lay a small boy writhing in great distress while his mother bent solicitously over him. "What-all's de matter wif de chile?" asked the visitor sympathetically. "I spec's hit's too much watermillion," responded the mother. "Ho! go 'long wif you," protested the visitor scornfully. "Dey cyan't never be too much watermillion. Hit mus' be dat dere ain't enough boy." PROPOSALSA love-smitten youth who was studying the approved method of proposal asked one of his bachelor friends if he thought that a young man should propose to a girl on his knees. "If he doesn't," replied his friend, "the girl should get off." A gentleman who had been in Chicago only three days, but who had been paying attention to a prominent Chicago belle, wanted to propose, but was afraid he would be thought too hasty. He delicately broached the subject as follows: "If I were to speak to you of marriage, after having only made your acquaintance three days ago, what would you say of it?" "Well, I should say, never put off till tomorrow that which should have been done the day before yesterday." There was a young man from the West, Who proposed to the girl he loved best, But so closely he pressed her To make her say, yes, sir, That he broke two cigars in his vest. —The Tobacconist. They were dining on fowl in a restaurant. "You see," he explained, as he showed her the wishbone, "you take hold here. Then we must both make a wish and pull, and when it breaks the one who has the bigger part of it will have his or her wish granted." "But I don't know what to wish for," she protested. "Oh! you can think of something," he said. "No, I can't," she replied; "I can't think of anything I want very much." "Well, I'll wish for you," he explained. "Will you, really?" she asked. "Yes." "Well, then there's no use fooling with the old wishbone," she interrupted with a glad smile, "you can have me." "Dear May," wrote the young man, "pardon me, but I'm getting so forgetful. I proposed to you last night, but really forget whether you said yes or no." "Dear Will," she replied by note, "so glad to hear from you. I know I said 'no' to some one last night, but I had forgotten just who it was." The four Gerton girls were all good-looking; indeed, the three younger ones were beautiful; while Annie, the oldest, easily made up in capability and horse sense what she lacked in looks. A young chap, very eligible, called on the girls frequently, but seemed unable to decide which to marry. So Annie put on her thinking cap, and, one evening when the young chap called, she appeared with her pretty arms bare to the elbow and her hands white with flour. "Oh, you must excuse my appearance," she said. "I have been working in the kitchen all day. I baked bread and pies and cake this morning, and afterward, as the cook was ill, I prepared dinner." "Miss Annie, is that so?" said the young man. He looked at her, deeply impressed. Then, after a moment's thought, he said: "Miss Annie, there is a question I wish to ask you, and on your answer will depend much of my life's happiness." "Yes?" she said, with a blush, and she drew a little nearer. "Yes? What is it?" "Miss Annie," said the young man, in deep earnest tones, "I am thinking of proposing to your sister Kate—will you make your home with us?" It was at Christmas, and he had been calling on her twice a week for six months, but had not proposed. "Ethel," he said, "I—er—am going to ask you an important question." "Oh, George," she exclaimed, "this is so sudden! Why, I—" "No, excuse me," he interrupted; "what I want to ask is this: What date have you and your mother decided upon for our wedding?" A Scotch beadle led the maiden of his choice to a churchyard and, pointing to the various headstones, said: "My folks are all buried there, Jennie. Wad ye like to be buried there too?" IMPECUNIOUS LOVER—"Be mine, Amanda, and you will be treated like an angel." WEALTHY MAIDEN—"Yes, I suppose so. Nothing to eat, and less to wear. No, thank you." The surest way to hit a woman's heart is to take aim kneeling.—Douglas Jerrold. PROPRIETYThere was a young lady of Wilts, Who walked up to Scotland on stilts; When they said it was shocking To show so much stocking, She answered: "Then what about kilts?" —Gilbert K. Chesterton. PROSPERITYMay bad fortune follow you all your days And never catch up with you. PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL CHURCHOne of our popular New England lecturers tells this amusing story. A street boy of diminutive stature was trying to sell some very young kittens to passers-by. One day he accosted the late Reverend Phillips Brooks, asking him to purchase, and recommending them as good Episcopal kittens. Dr. Brooks laughingly refused, thinking them too small to be taken from their mother. A few days later a Presbyterian minister who had witnessed this episode was asked by the same boy to buy the same kittens. This time the lad announced that they were faithful Presbyterians. "Didn't you tell Dr. Brooks last week that they were Episcopal kittens?" the minister asked sternly. "Yes sir," replied the boy quickly, "but they's had their eyes opened since then, sir." An Episcopal clergyman who was passing his vacation in a remote country district met an old farmer who declared that he was a "'Piscopal." "To what parish do you belong?" asked the clergyman. "Don't know nawthin' 'bout enny parish," was the answer. "Who confirmed you, then?" was the next question. "Nobody," answered the farmer. "Then how are you an Episcopalian?" asked the clergyman. "Well," was the reply, "you see it's this way: Last winter I went to church, an' it was called 'Piscopal, an' I heerd them say that they left undone the things what they'd oughter done and they'd done some things what they oughtenter done, and I says to myself says I: 'That's my fix exac'ly,' and ever sence then I've been a 'Piscopalian." PROTESTANTSA Protestant mission meeting had been held in an Irish town and this was the gardener's contribution to the controversy that ensued: "Pratestants!" he said with lofty scorn, "'Twas mighty little St. Paul thought of the Pratestants. You've all heard tell of the 'pistle he wrote to the Romans, but I'd ax ye this, did any of yez iver hear of his writing a 'pistle to the Pratestants?" PROVIDENCE"Why did papa have appendicitis and have to pay the doctor a thousand dollars, Mama?" "It was God's will, dear." "And was it because God was mad at papa or pleased with the doctor?"—Life. There's a certain minister whose duties sometimes call him out of the city. He has always arranged for some one of his parishioners to keep company with his wife and little daughter during these absences. Recently, however, he was called away so suddenly that he had no opportunity of providing a guardian. The wife was very brave during the early evening, but after dark had fallen her courage began to fail. She stayed up with her little girl till there was no excuse for staying any longer and then took her upstairs to bed. "Now go to sleep, Dearie," she said. "Don't be afraid. God will protect you." "Yes, Mother," answered the little girl, "that'll be all right tonight, but next time let's make better arrangements." PROVINCIALISMSome time ago an English friend of Colonel W.J. Lampton's living in New York and having never visited the South, went to Virginia to spend a month with friends. After a fortnight of it, he wrote back: "Oh, I say, old top, you never told me that the South was anything like I have found it, and so different to the North. Why, man, it's God's country." The Colonel, who gets his title from Kentucky, answered promptly by postal. "Of course it is," he wrote. "You didn't suppose God was a Yankee, did you?" A southerner, with the intense love for his own district, attended a banquet. The next day a friend asked him who was present. With a reminiscent smile he replied: "An elegant gentleman from Virginia, a gentleman from Kentucky, a man from Ohio, a bounder from Chicago, a fellow from New York, and a galoot from Maine." They had driven fourteen miles to the lake, and then rowed six miles across the lake to get to the railroad station, when the Chicago man asked: "How in the world do you get your mail and newspapers here in the winter when the storms are on?" "Wa-al, we don't sometimes. I've seen this lake thick up so that it was three weeks before we got a Chicago paper," answered the man from "nowhere." "Well, you were cut off," said the Chicago man. "Ya-as, we were so," was the reply. "Still, the Chicago folks were just as badly off." "How so?" "Wa-al," drawled the man, "we didn't know what was going on in Chicago, of course. But then, neither did Chicago folks know what was going on down here." PUBLIC SERVICE CORPORATIONSThe attorney demanded to know how many secret societies the witness belonged to, whereupon the witness objected and appealed to the court. "The court sees no harm in the question," answered the judge. "You may answer." "Well, I belong to three." "What are they?" "The Knights of Pythias, the Odd Fellows, and the gas company." "Yes, he had some rare trouble with his eyes," said the celebrated oculist. "Every time he went to read he would read double." "Poor fellow," remarked the sympathetic person. "I suppose that interfered with his holding a good position?" "Not at all. The gas company gobbled him up and gave him a lucrative job reading gas-meters." PUBLIC SPEAKERSORATOR—"I thought your paper was friendly to me?" EDITOR—"So it is. What's the matter?" ORATOR—"I made a speech at the dinner last night, and you didn't print a line of it." EDITOR—"Well, what further proof do you want?" TRAVELING LECTURER FOR SOCIETY (to the remaining listener)—"I should like to thank you, sir, for so attentively hearing me to the end of a rather too long speech." LOCAL MEMBER OF SOCIETY—"Not at all, sir. I'm the second speaker." Ex-senator Spooner of Wisconsin says the best speech of introduction he ever heard was delivered by the German mayor of a small town in Wisconsin, where Spooner had been engaged to speak. The mayor said: "Ladies und shentlemens, I haf been asked to indrotoose you to the Honorable Senator Spooner, who vill make to you a speech, yes. I haf now done so; he vill now do so." "When I arose to speak," related a martyred statesman, "some one hurled a base, cowardly egg at me and it struck me in the chest." "And what kind of an egg might that be?" asked a fresh young man. "A base, cowardly egg," explained the statesman, "is one that hits you and then runs." "Uncle Joe" Cannon has a way of speaking his mind that is sometimes embarrassing to others. On one occasion an inexperienced young fellow was called upon to make a speech at a banquet at which ex-speaker Cannon was also present. "Gentlemen," began the young fellow, "my opinion is that the generality of mankind in general is disposed to take advantage of the generality of—" "Sit down, son," interrupted "Uncle Joe." "You are coming out of the same hole you went in at." A South African tribe has an effective method of dealing with bores, which might be adopted by Western peoples. This simple tribe considers long speeches injurious to the orator and his hearers; so to protect both there is an unwritten law that every public orator must stand on only one leg when he is addressing an audience. As soon as he has to place the other leg on the ground his oration is brought to a close, by main force, if necessary. A rather turgid orator, noted for his verbosity and heaviness, was once assigned to do some campaigning in a mining camp in the mountains. There were about fifty miners present when he began; but when, at the end of a couple of hours, he gave no sign of finishing, his listeners dropped away. Some went back to work, but the majority sought places to quench their thirst, which had been aggravated by the dryness of the discourse. Finally there was only one auditor left, a dilapidated, weary-looking old fellow. Fixing his gaze on him, the orator pulled out a large six-shooter and laid it on the table. The old fellow rose slowly and drawled out: "Be you going to shoot if I go?" "You bet I am," replied the speaker. "I'm bound to finish my speech, even if I have to shoot to keep an audience." The old fellow sighed in a tired manner, and edged slowly away, saying as he did so: "Well, shoot if you want to. I may jest as well be shot as talked to death." The self-made millionaire who had endowed the school had been invited to make the opening speech at the commencement exercises. He had not often had a chance of speaking before the public and he was resolved to make the most of it. He dragged his address out most tiresomely, repeating the same thought over and over. Unable to stand it any longer a couple of boys in the rear of the room slipped out. A coachman who was waiting outside asked them if the millionaire had finished his speech. "Gee, yes!" replied the boys, "but he won't stop." Mark Twain once told this story: "Some years ago in Hartford, we all went to church one hot, sweltering night to hear the annual report of Mr. Hawley, a city missionary who went around finding people who needed help and didn't want to ask for it. He told of the life in cellars, where poverty resided; he gave instances of the heroism and devotion of the poor. When a man with millions gives, he said, we make a great deal of noise. It's a noise in the wrong place, for it's the widow's mite that counts. Well, Hawley worked me up to a great pitch. I could hardly wait for him to get through. I had $400 in my pocket. I wanted to give that and borrow more to give. You could see greenbacks in every eye. But instead of passing the plate then, he kept on talking and talking and talking, and as he talked it grew hotter and hotter and hotter, and we grew sleepier and sleepier and sleepier. My enthusiasm went down, down, down, down—$100 at a clip—until finally, when the plate did come around, I stole ten cents out of it. It all goes to show how a little thing like this can lead to crime." See also After dinner speeches; Candidates; Politicians. PUNISHMENTA parent who evidently disapproved of corporal punishment wrote the teacher:
"No, sirree!" ejaculated Bunkerton. "There wasn't any of that nonsense in my family. My father never thrashed me in all his life." "Too bad, too bad," sighed Hickenlooper. "Another wreck due to a misplaced switch." James the Second, when Duke of York, made a visit to Milton, the poet, and asked him among other things, if he did not think the loss of his sight a judgment upon him for what he had writen against his father, Charles the First. Milton answered: "If your Highness think my loss of sight a judgment upon me, what do you think of your father's losing his head."—Life. A white man during reconstruction times was arraigned before a colored justice of the peace for killing a man and stealing his mule. It was in Arkansas, near the Texas border, and there was some rivalry between the states, but the colored justice tried to preserve an impartial frame of mind. "We's got two kinds ob law in dis yer co't," he said: "Texas law an' Arkansas law. Which will you hab?" The prisoner thought a minute and then guessed that he would take the Arkansas law. "Den I discharge you fo' stealin' de mule, an' hang you fo' killin' de man." "Hold on a minute, Judge," said the prisoner. "Better make that Texas law." "All right. Den I fin' you fo' killin' de man, an' hang you fo' stealin' de mule." A lawyer was defending a man accused of housebreaking, and said to the court: "Your Honor, I submit that my client did not break into the house at all. He found the parlor window open and merely inserted his right arm and removed a few trifling articles. Now, my client's arm is not himself, and I fail to see how you can punish the whole individual for an offense committed by only one of his limbs." "That argument," said the judge, "is very well put. Following it logically, I sentence the defendant's arm to one year's imprisonment. He can accompany it or not, as he chooses." The defendant smiled, and with his lawyer's assistance unscrewed his cork arm, and, leaving it in the dock, walked out. Muriel, a five-year-old subject of King George, has been thought by her parents too young to feel the weight of the rod, and has been ruled by moral suasion alone. But when, the other day, she achieved disobedience three times in five minutes, more vigorous measures were called for, and her mother took an ivory paper-knife from the table and struck her smartly across her little bare legs. Muriel looked astounded. Her mother explained the reason for the blow. Muriel thought deeply for a moment. Then, turning toward the door with a grave and disapproving countenance, she announced in her clear little English voice: "I'm going up-stairs to tell God about that paper-knife. And then I shall tell Jesus. And if that doesn't do, I shall put flannel on my legs!" During the reconstruction days of Virginia, a negro was convicted of murdering his wife and sentenced to be hanged. On the morning of the execution he mounted the scaffold with reasonable calmness. Just before the noose was to be placed around his neck the sheriff asked him if he had anything to say. He studied a moment and said: "No, suh, boss, thankee, suh, 'ceptin' dis is sho gwine to be a lesson to me." "What punishment did that defaulting banker get?" "I understand his lawyer charged him $40,000." An Indian in Washington County once sized up Maine's game laws thus: "Kill cow moose, pay $100; kill man, too bad!" TEACHER—"Willie, did your father cane you for what you did in school yesterday?" PUPIL—"No, ma'am; he said the licking would hurt him more than it would me." TEACHER—"What rot! Your father is too sympathetic." PUPIL—"No, ma'am; but he's got the rheumatism in both arms." "Boohoo! Boohoo!" wailed little Johnny. "Why, what's the matter, dear?" his mother asked comfortingly. "Boohoo—er—p-picture fell on papa's toes." "Well, dear, that's too bad, but you mustn't cry about it, you know." "I d-d-didn't. I laughed. Boohoo! Boohoo!" The fact that corporal punishment is discouraged in the public schools of Chicago is what led Bobby's teacher to address this note to the boy's mother:
To this Bobby's mother responded as follows:
A little fellow who was being subjected to a whipping pinched his father under the knee. "Willie, you bad boy! How dare you do that?" asked the parent wrathfully. A pause. Then Willie answered between sobs: "Well, Father, who started this war, anyway?" A little girl about three years old was sent upstairs and told to sit on a certain chair that was in the corner of her room, as a punishment for something she had done but a few minutes before. Soon the silence was broken by the little one's question: "Mother, may I come down now?" "No, you sit right where you are." "All right, 'cause I'm sittin' on your best hat." It is less to suffer punishment than to deserve it.—Ovid. If Jupiter hurled his thunderbolt as often as men sinned, he would soon be out of thunderbolts.—Ovid. See also Church discipline; Future life; Marriage. PUNSA father once said to his son, "The next time you make up a pun, Go out in the yard And kick yourself hard, And I will begin when you've done." PURE FOODInto a general store of a town in Arkansas there recently came a darky complaining that a ham which he had purchased there was not good. "The ham is all right, Zeph," insisted the storekeeper. "No, it ain't, boss," insisted the negro. "Dat ham's shore bad." "How can that be," continued the storekeeper, "when it was cured only a week?" The darky scratched his head reflectively, and finally suggested: "Den, mebbe it's had a relapse." On a recent trip to Germany, Doctor Harvey Wiley, the pure-food expert, heard an allegory with reference to the subject of food adulteration which, he contends, should cause Americans to congratulate themselves that things are so well ordered in this respect in the United States. The German allegory was substantially as follows: Four flies, which had made their way into a certain pantry, determined to have a feast. One flew to the sugar and ate heartily; but soon died, for the sugar was full of white lead. The second chose the flour as his diet, but he fared no better, for the flour was loaded with plaster of Paris. The third sampled the syrup, but his six legs were presently raised in the air, for the syrup was colored with aniline dyes. The fourth fly, seeing all his friends dead, determined to end his life also, and drank deeply of the fly-poison which he found in a convenient saucer. He is still alive and in good health. That, too, was adulterated. QUARRELS"But why did you leave your last place?" the lady asked of the would-be cook. "To tell the truth, mum, I just couldn't stand the way the master an' the missus used to quarrel, mum." "Dear me! Do you mean to say that they actually used to quarrel?" "Yis, mum, all the time. When it wasn't me an' him, it was me an' her." "I hear ye had words with Casey." "We had no words." "Then nothing passed between ye?" "Nothing but one brick." There had been a wordy falling-out between Mrs. Halloran and Mrs. Donohue; there had been words; nay, more, there had been language. Mrs. Halloran had gone to church early in the morning, had fulfilled the duties of her religion, and was returning primly home, when Mrs. Donohue spied her, and, still smouldering with volcanic fire, sent a broadside of lava at Mrs. Halloran. The latter heard, flushed, opened her lips—and then suddenly checked herself. After a moment she spoke: "Mrs. Donohue, I've just been to church, and I'm in a state of grace. But, plaze Hivin, the next time I meet yez, I won't be, and thin I'll till yez what I think of yez!" A quarrel is quickly settled when deserted by one party: there is no battle unless there be two.—Seneca. See also Marriage; Servants QUESTIONSThe more questions a woman asks the fewer answers she remembers.—Wasp. It was a very hot day and the fat drummer who wanted the twelve-twenty train got through the gate at just twelve-twenty-one. The ensuing handicap was watched with absorbed interest both from the train and the station platform. At its conclusion the breathless and perspiring knight of the road wearily took the back trail, and a vacant-faced "red-cap" came out to relieve him of his grip. "Mister," he inquired, "was you tryin' to ketch that Pennsylvania train?" "No, my son," replied the patient man. "No; I was merely chasing it out of the yard." A party of young men were camping, and to avert annoying questions they made it a rule that the one who asked a question that he could not answer himself had to do the cooking. One evening, while sitting around the fire, one of the boys asked: "Why is it that a ground-squirrel never leaves any dirt at the mouth of its burrow?" They all guessed and missed. So he was asked to answer it himself. "Why," he said, "because it always begins to dig at the other end of the hole." "But," one asked, "how does it get to the other end of the hole?" "Well," was the reply, "that's your question." A browbeating lawyer was demanding that a witness answer a certain question either in the negative or affirmative. "I cannot do it," said the witness. "There are some questions that cannot be answered by a 'yes' or a 'no,' as any one knows." "I defy you to give an example to the court," thundered the lawyer. The retort came like a flash: "Are you still beating your wife?" Officers have a right to ask questions in the performance of their duty, but there are occasions when it seems as if they might curtail or forego the privilege. Not long ago an Irishman whose hand had been badly mangled in an accident entered the Boston City Hospital relief station in a great hurry. He stepped up to the man in charge and inquired: "Is this the relief station, sor?" "Yes. What is your name?" "Patrick O'Connor, sor." "Are you married?" questioned the officer. "Yis, sor, but is this the relief station?" He was nursing his hand in agony. "Of course it is. How many children have you?" "Eight, sor. But sure, this is the relief station?" "Yes, it is," replied the officer, a little angry at the man's persistence. "Well," said Patrick, "sure, an' I was beginning to think that it might be the pumping station." The sages say, Dame Truth delights to dwell (Strange Mansion!) in the bottom of a well: Questions are then the Windlass and the rope That pull the grave old Gentlewoman up. —John Wolcott. See also Curiosity. QUOTATIONSStanley Jordan, the well-known Episcopal minister, having cause to be anxious about his son's college examinations, told him to telegraph the result. The boy sent the following message to his parent: "Hymn 342, fifth verse, last two lines." Looking it up the father found the words: "Sorrow vanquished, labor ended, Jordan passed." RACE PREJUDICESA negro preacher in a southern town was edified on one occasion by the recital of a dream had by a member of the church. "I was a-dreamin' all dis time," said the narrator, "dat I was in ole Satan's dominions. I tell you, pahson, dat was shore a bad dream!" "Was dere any white men dere?" asked the dusky divine. "Shore dere was—plenty of 'em," the other hastened to assure his minister "What was dey a-doin'?" "Ebery one of 'em," was the answer, "was a-holdin' a cullud pusson between him an' de fire!" RACE PRIDESam Jones, the evangelist, was leading a revival meeting in Huntsville, Texas, a number of years ago, and at the close of one of the services an old negro woman pushed her way up through the crowd to the edge of the pulpit platform. Sam took the perspiring black hand that was held out to him, and heard the old woman say: "Brudder Jones, you sho' is a finepreacher! Yes, suh; de Lord bless you. You's des everybody's preacher. You's de white folks' preacher, and de niggers' preacher, and everybody's preacher. Brudder Jones, yo' skin's white, but, thank de Lord, yo' heart's des as black as any nigger's!" An Irishman and a Jew were discussing the great men who had belonged toeach race and, as may be expected, got into a heated argument. Finally the Irishman said: "Ikey, listen. For ivery great Jew ye can name ye may pull out one of me whiskers, an' for ivery great Irishman I can name I'll pull one of yours. Is it a go?" They consented, and Pat reached over, got hold of a whisker, said, "Robert Emmet,' and pulled. "Moses!" said the Jew, and pulled one of Pat's tenderest. "Dan O'Connell," said Pat and took another. "Abraham," said Ikey, helping himself again. "Patrick Henry," returned Pat with a vicious yank. "The Twelve Apostles," said the Jew, taking a handful of whiskers. Pat emitted a roar of pain, grasped the Jew's beard with both hands, and yelled, "The ancient Order of Hibernians!" RACE SUICIDE"Prisoner, why did you assault this landlord?" "Your Honor, because I have several children he refused to rent me a flat." "Well, that is his privilege." "But, your Honor, he calls his apartment house 'The Roosevelt.'" RACESIn answer to the question, "What are the five great races of mankind?" a Chinese student replied, "The 100 yards, the hurdles, the quartermile,the mile, and the three miles." "Now, Thomas," said the foreman of the construction gang to a green handwho had just been put on the job, "keep your eyes open. When you see a train coming throw down your tools and jump off the track. Run like blazes." "Sure!" said Thomas, and began to swing his pick. In a few moments the Empire State Express came whirling along. Thomas threw down his pick and started up the track ahead of the train as fast as he could run. The train overtook him and tossed him into a ditch. Badly shaken up he was taken to the hospital, where the foreman visited him. "You blithering idiot," said the foreman, "didn't I tell you to get out of the road? Didn't I tell you to take care and get out of the way? Why didn't you run up the side of the hill?" "Up the soide of the hill is it, sor?" said Thomas through the bandages on his face. "Up the soide of the hill? Be the powers, I couldn't bate it on the level, let alone runnin' uphill!" RAILROADS"Talk 'bout railroads bein' a blessin'," said Brother Dickey, "des look at de loads an' loads er watermelons deys haulin' out de state, ter dem folks 'way up North what never done nuthin' ter deserve sich a dispensation!" On one of the southern railroads there is a station-building that is commonly known by travelers as the smallest railroad station in America. It is of this station that the story is told that an old farmer was expecting a chicken-house to arrive there, and he sent one of his hands, a new-comer, to fetch it. Arriving there the man saw the house, loaded it on to his wagon and started for home. On the way he met a man in uniform with the words "Station Agent" on his cap. "Say, hold on. What have you got on that wagon?" he asked. "My chicken-house, of course," was the reply. "Chicken-house be jiggered!" exploded the official. "That's thestation!" "I read of the terrible vengeance inflicted upon one of their members by a band of robbers in Mississippi last week." "What did they do? Shoot him?" "No; they tied him upon the railroad tracks." "Awful! And he was ground to pieces, I suppose?" "Nothing like it. The poor fellow starved to death waiting for the nexttrain."—W. Dayton Wegefarth. The reporter who had accompanied the special train to the scene of the wreck, hurried down the embankment and found a man who had one arm in a sling, a bandage over one eye, his front teeth gone, and his nose knocked four points to starboard, sitting on a piece of the locomotive and surveying the horrible ruin all about him. "Can you give me some particulars of this accident?" asked the reporter, taking out his notebook. "I haven't heard of any accident, young man," replied the disfigured party stiffly. He was one of the directors of the railroad. The Hon. John Sharp Williams had an engagement to speak in a small southern town. The train he was traveling on was not of the swiftest, and he lost no opportunity of keeping the conductor informed as to his opinions of that particular road. "Well, if yer don't like it," the conductor finally blurted out, "why in thunder don't yer git out an' walk?" "I would," Mr. Williams blandly replied, "but you see the committee doesn't expect me until this train gets in." "We were bounding along," said a recent traveler on a local South African single-line railway, "at the rate of about seven miles an hour, and the whole train was shaking terribly. I expected every moment to see my bones protruding through my skin. Passengers were rolling from oneend of the car to the other. I held on firmly to the arms of the seat. Presently we settled down a bit quieter; at least, I could keep my hat on, and my teeth didn't chatter."There was a quiet looking man opposite me. I looked up with a ghastly smile, wishing to appear cheerful, and said: "'We are going a bit smoother, I see.' "'Yes,' he said, 'we're off the track now.'" Three men were talking in rather a large way as to the excellent train service each had in his special locality: one was from the west, one from New England, and the other from New York. The former two had told of marvelous doings of trains, and it is distinctly "up" to the man from New York. "Now in New York," he said, "we not only run our trains fast, but we also start them fast. I remember the case of a friend of mine whose wife went to see him off for the west on the Pennsylvania at Jersey City. As the train was about to start my friend said his final good-by to his wife, and leaned down from the car platform to kiss her. The train started, and, would you believe it, my friend found himself kissing a strange woman on the platform at Trenton!" And the other men gave it up. "Say, young man," asked an old lady at the ticket-office, "what time does the next train pull in here and how long does it stay?" "From two to two to two-two," was the curt reply. "Well, I declare! Be you the whistle?" An express on the Long Island Railroad was tearing away at a wild and awe-inspiring rate of six miles an hour, when all of a sudden it stopped altogether. Most of the passengers did not notice the difference; but one of them happened to be somewhat anxious to reach his destination before old age claimed him for its own. He put his head through the window to find that the cause of the stop was a cow on the track. After a while they continued the journey for half an hour or so, and then—another stop. "What's wrong now?" asked the impatient passenger of the conductor. "A cow on the track." "But I thought you drove it off." "So we did," said the conductor, "but we caught up with it again." The president of one great southern railway pulled into a southern city in his private car. It was also the terminal of a competing road, and the private car of the president of the other line was on a side track. There was great rivalry between these two lines, which extended from the president of each down to the most humble employe. In the evening the colored cook from one of the cars wandered over to pass the time of day with the cook on the other car. One of these roads had recently had an appalling list of accidents, and the death-toll was exceptionally high. The cook from this road sauntered up to the back platform of the private car, and after an interchange of courtesies said: "Well, how am youh ole jerkwatah railroad these days? Am you habbing prosper's times?" "Man," said the other, "we-all am so prosperous that if we was any moah prosperous we just naturally couldn't stand hit." "Hough!" said the other, "we-all am moah prosperous than you-all." "Man," said the other, "we dun carry moah'n a million passengers last month." "Foah de Lord's sake!" ejaculated the first negro. "You-all carried moah'n a million passengers? Go on with you, nigger; we dun kill moah passengers than you carry." It was on a little branch railway in a southern state that the New England woman ventured to refer to the high rates. "It seems to me five cents a mile is extortion," she said, with frankness, to her southern cousin. "It's a big lot of money to pay if you think of it by the mile," said the southerner, in her soft drawl; "but you just think how cheap it is by the hour, Cousin Annie—only about thirty-five cents."—Youth's Companion. RAPID TRANSITOne cold, wintry morning a man of tall and angular build was walking down a steep hill at a quick pace. A treacherous piece of ice under the snow caused him to lose control of his feet; he began to slide and was unable to stop. At a cross-street half-way down the decline he encountered a large, heavy woman, with her arms full of bundles. The meeting was sudden, and before either realized it a collision ensued and both were sliding down hill, a grand ensemble—the thin man underneath, the fat woman and bundles on top. When the bottom was reached and the woman was trying in vain to recover her breath and her feet, these faint words were borne to her ear: "Pardon me, madam, but you will have to get off here. This is as far as I go." READINGSee Books and Reading. REAL ESTATE AGENTSLittle Nelly told little Anita what she termed a "little fib." ANITA—"A fib is the same as a story, and a story is the same as a lie." NELLY—"No, it is not." ANITA—"Yes, it is, because my father said so, and my father is a professor at the university." NELLY—"I don't care if he is. My father is a real estate man, and he knows more about lying than your father does." REALISMThe storekeeper at Yount, Idaho, tells the following tale of Ole Olson, who later became the little town's mayor. "One night, just before closin' up time, Ole, hatless, coatless, and breathless, come rushin' into the store, an' droppin' on his knees yelled, 'Yon, Yon, hide me, hide me! Ye sheriff's after me!' "'I've no place to hide you here, Ole,' said I. "'You moost, you moost!' screamed Ole. "'Crawl into that gunny-sack then,' said I. "He'd no more'n gotten hid when in runs the sheriff. "'Seen Ole?' said he. "'Don't see him here,' said I, without lyin'. "Then the sheriff went a-nosin' round an' pretty soon he spotted the gunny-sack over in the corner. "'What's in here?' said he. "'Oh, just some old harness and sleigh-bells,' said I. "With that he gives it an awful boot. "'Yingle, yingle, yingle!' moaned Ole." MOTHER—"Tommy, if you're pretending to be an automobile, I wish you'd run over to the store and get me some butter." TOMMY—"I'm awful sorry, Mother, but I'm all out of gasoline."—Judge. "Children," said the teacher, instructing the class in composition, "you should not attempt any flights of fancy; simply be yourselves and write what is in you. Do not imitate any other person's writings or draw inspiration from outside sources." As a result of this advice Tommy Wise turned out the following composition: "We should not attempt any flights of fancy, but write what is in us. In me there is my stummick, lungs, hart, liver, two apples, one piece of pie, one stick of lemon candy and my dinner." "A great deal of fun has been poked at the realistic school of art," says a New York artist, "and it must be confessed that some ground has been given to the enemy. Why, there recently came to my notice a picture of an Assyrian bath, done by a Chicago man, and so careful was he of all the details that the towels hanging up were all marked 'Nebuchadnezzar' in the corner, in cuneiform characters." RECALLSUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER—"Johnny, what is the text from Judges?" JOHNNY-"I don't believe in recalling the judiciary, mum." "Senator, why don't you unpack your trunk? You'll be in Washington for six years." "I don't know about that. My state has the recall." RECOMMENDATIONSA firm of shady outside London brokers was prosecuted for swindling. In acquitting them the court, with great severity, said: "There is not sufficient evidence to convict you, but if anyone wishes to know my opinion of you I hope that they will refer to me." Next day the firm's advertisement appeared in every available medium with the following, well displayed: "Reference as to probity, by special permission, the Lord Chief Justice of England." MISTRESS—"Have you a reference?" BRIDGET—"Foine; Oi held the poker over her till Oi got it." There is a story of a Scotch gentleman who had to dismiss his gardener for dishonesty. For the sake of the man's wife and family, however, he gave him a "character," and framed it in this way: "I hereby certify that A. B. has been my gardener for over two years, and that during that time he got more out of the garden than any man I ever employed." The buxom maid had been hinting that she did not think much of working out, and this in conjunction with the nightly appearance of a rather sheepish young man caused her mistress much apprehension. "Martha, is it possible that you are thinking of getting married?" "Yes'm," admitted Martha, blushing. "Not that young fellow who has been calling on you lately?" "Yes'm he's the one." "But you have only known him a few days." "Three weeks come Thursday," corrected Martha. "Do you think that is long enough to know a man before taking such an important step?" "Well," answered Martha with spirit, "'tain't 's if he was some new feller. He's well recommended; a perfectly lovely girl I know was engaged to him for a long while." An Englishman and an Irishman went to the captain of a ship bound for America and asked permission to work their passage over. The captain consented, but asked the Irishman for references and let the Englishman go on without them. This made the Irishman angry and he planned to get even. One day when they were washing off the deck, the Englishman leaned far over the rail, dropped the bucket, and was just about to haul it up when a huge wave came and pulled him overboard. The Irishman stopped scrubbing, went over to the rail and, seeing the Englishman had disappeared, went to the Captain and said: "Perhaps yez remember whin I shipped aboard this vessel ye asked me for riferences and let the Englishman come on widout thim?" The Captain said: "Yes, I remember." "Well, ye've been decaved," said the Irishman; "he's gone off wid yer pail!" RECONCILIATIONS"Yes, I quarreled with my wife about nothing." "Why don't you make up?" "I'm going to. All I'm worried about now is the indemnity." REFORMERSLOUISE—"The man that Edith married is a reformer." JULIA—"How did he lose his money?"—Judge. He was earnestly but prosily orating at the audience. "I want land reform," he wound up, "I want housing reform, I want educational reform, I want—" And said a bored voice in the audience: "Chloroform." The young woman sat before her glass and gazed long and earnestly at the reflection there. She screwed up her face in many ways. She fluffed her hair and then smoothed it down again; she raised her eyes and lowered them; she showed her teeth and she pressed her lips tightly together. At last she got up, with a weary sigh, and said: "It's no use. I'll be some kind of reformer." REGRETSA Newport man who was invited to a house party at Bar Harbor, telegraphed to the hostess: "Regret I can't come. Lie follows by post." After the death of Lord Houghton, there was found in his correspondence the following reply to a dinner invitation: "Mrs. —— presents her compliments to Lord Houghton. Her husband died on Tuesday, otherwise he would have been delighted to dine with Lord Houghton on Thursday next." A young woman prominent in the social set of an Ohio town tells of a young man there who had not familiarized himself with the forms of polite correspondence to the fullest extent. When, on one occasion, he found it necessary to decline an invitation, he did so in the following terms: "Mr. Henry Blank declines with pleasure Mrs. Wood's invitation for the nineteenth, and thanks her extremely for having given him the opportunity of doing so." REHEARSALSThe funeral procession was moving along the village street when Uncle Abe stepped out of a store. He hadn't heard the news. "Sho," said Uncle Abe, "who they buryin' today?" "Pore old Tite Harrison," said the storekeeper. "Sho," said Uncle Abe. "Tite Harrison, hey? Is Tite dead?" "You don't think we're rehearsin' with him, do you?" snapped the storekeeper. RELATIVES"It is hard, indeed," said the melancholy gentleman, "to lose one's relatives." "Hard?" snorted the gentleman of wealth. "Hard? It is impossible!" RELIGIONSWhen Bishop Phillips Brooks sailed from America on his last trip to Europe, a friend jokingly remarked that while abroad he might discover some new religion to bring home with him. "But be careful of it, Bishop Brooks," remarked a listening friend; "it may be difficult to get your new religion through the Custom House." "I guess not," replied the Bishop, laughingly, "for we may take it for granted that any new religion popular enough to import will have no duties attached to it." At a recent conference of Baptists, Methodists, and English Friends, in the city of Chengtu, China, two Chinamen were heard discussing the three denominations. One of them said to the other: "They say these denominations have different beliefs. Just what is the difference between them?" "Oh," said the other, "Not much! Big washee, little washee, no washee, that is all." A recent book on Russia relates the story of the anger of the Apostle John because a certain peasant burned no tapers to his ikon, but honored, instead, the ikon of Apostle Peter in St. John's own church. The two apostles talked it over as they walked the fields near Kieff, and Apostle John decided to send a terrible storm to destroy the just ripe corn of the peasant. His decision was carried out, and the next day he met Apostle Peter and boasted of his punishing wrath. And Apostle Peter only laughed. "Ai, yi, yi, Apostle John," he said, "what a mess you've made of it. I stepped around, saw my friend, and told him what you were going to do, so he sold his corn to the priest of your church." The priest of a New York parish met one of his parishioners, who had long been out of work, and asked him whether he had found anything to do. The man grinned with infinite satisfaction, and replied: "Yiss indade, ycr Riverince, an' a foine job too! Oi'm gettin' three dollars a day fur pullin' down a Prodesant church!" A man addicted to walking in his sleep went to bed all right one night, but when he awoke he found himself on the street in the grasp of a policeman. "Hold on," he cried, "you mustn't arrest me. I'm a somnambulist." To which the policeman replied: "I don't care what your religion is—yer can't walk the streets in yer nightshirt." The friendship existing between Father Kelly and Rabbi Levi is proof against differences in race and religion. Each distinguished for his learning, his eloquence and his wit; and they delight in chaffing each other. They were seated opposite each other at a banquet where some delicious roast ham was served and Father Kelly made comments upon its flavor. Presently he leaned forward and in a voice that carried far, he addressed his friend: "Rabbi Levi, when are you going to become liberal enough to eat ham?" "At your wedding, Father Kelly," retorted the rabbi. The broad-minded see the truth in different religions; the narrow-minded see only their differences.—Chinese Proverb. REMEDIESMISTRESS—"Did the mustard plaster do you any good, Bridget?" MAID—"Yes; but, begorry, mum, it do bite the tongue!" SUFFERER—"I have a terrible toothache and want something to cure it." FRIEND—"Now, you don't need any medicine. I had a toothache yesterday and I went home and my loving wife kissed me and so consoled me that the pain soon passed away. Why don't you try the same?" SUFFERER—"I think I will. Is your wife at home now?" For every ill beneath the sun There is some remedy or none; If there be one, resolve to find it; If not, submit, and never mind it. REMINDERSThe wife of an overworked promoter said at breakfast: "Will you post this letter for me, dear? It's to the furrier, countermanding my order for that $900 sable and ermine stole. You'll be sure to remember?" The tired eyes of the harassed, shabby promoter lit up with joy. He seized a skipping rope that lay with a heap of dolls and toys in a corner, and going to his wife, he said: "Here, tie my right hand to my left foot so I won't forget!" REPARTEERepartee is saying on the instant what you didn't say until the next morning. Among the members of a working gang on a certain railroad was an Irishman who claimed to be very good at figures. The boss, thinking that he would get ahead of Pat, said: "Say, Pat, how many shirts can you get out of a yard?" "That depends," answered Pat, "on whose yard you get into." A middle-aged farmer accosted a serious-faced youth outside the Grand Central Station in New York the other day. "Young man," he said, plucking his sleeve, "I wanter go to Central Park." The youth seemed lost in consideration for a moment. "Well," he said finally, "you may just this once. But I don't want you ever, ever to ask me again." SEEDY VISITOR— "Do you have many wrecks about here, boatman?" BOATMAN—"Not very many, sir. You're the first I've seen this season." HER DAD—"No, sir; I won't have my daughter tied for life to a stupid fool." HER SUITOR—"Then don't you think you'd better let me take her off your hands?" Wendell Phillips was traveling through Ohio once when he fell in with a car full of ministers returning from a convention. One of the ministers, a southerner from Kentucky, was naturally not very cordial to the opinions of the great abolitionist and set out to embarrass Mr. Phillips. So, before the group of ministers, he said: "You are Wendell Phillips, are you not?" "Yes," answered the great abolitionist. "And you are trying to free the niggers, aren't you?" "Yes, sir; I am." "Well, why do you preach your doctrines up here? Why don't you go over into Kentucky?" "Excuse me, are you a preacher?" "I am, sir." "Are you trying to save souls from hell?" "Yes, sir; that is my business." "Well, why don't you go there then?" asked Mr. Phillips. SOLEMN SENIOR—"So your efforts to get on the team were fruitless, were they?" FOOLISH FRESHMAN—"Oh, no! Not at all. They gave me a lemon."—Harvard Lampoon. A benevolent person watched a workman laboriously windlassing rock from a shaft while the broiling sun was beating down on his bare head. "My dear man," observed the onlooker, "are you not afraid that your brain will be affected in the hot sun?" The laborer contemplated him for a moment and then replied: "Do you think a man with any brains would be working at this kind of a job?" Winston Churchill, the young English statesman, recently began to raise a mustache, and while it was still in the budding stage he was asked at a dinner party to take in to dinner an English girl who had decided opposing political views. "I am sorry," said Mr. Churchill, "we cannot agree on politics." "No, we can't," rejoined the girl, "for to be frank with you I like your politics about as little as I do your mustache." "Well," replied Mr. Churchill, "remember that you are not likely to come into contact with either." Strickland Gillilan, the lecturer and the man who pole-vaulted into fame by his "Off Ag'in, On Ag'in, Finnigin" verses, was about to deliver a lecture in a small Missouri town. He asked the chairman of the committee whether he might have a small pitcher of ice-water on the platform table. "To drink?" queried the committeeman. "No," answered Gillilan. "I do a high-diving act." TRAVELER—"Say, boy, your corn looks kind of yellow." BOY—"Yes, sir. That's the kind we planted." TRAVELER—"Looks as though you will only have half a crop." BOY—"Don't expect any more. The landlord gets the other half." TRAVELER (after a moment's thought)—"Say, there is not much difference between you and a fool." BOY—"No, sir. Only the fence." President Lincoln was busily engaged in his office when an attendant, a young man of sixteen, unceremoniously entered and gave him a card. Without rising, the President glanced at the card. "Pshaw. She here again? I told her last week that I could not interfere in her case. I cannot see her," he said impatiently. "Get rid of her any way you can. Tell her I am asleep, or anything you like." Quickly returning to the lady in an adjacent room, this exceedingly bright boy said to her, "The President told me to tell you that he is asleep." The lady's eyes sparkled as she responded, "Ah, he says he is asleep, eh? Well, will you be kind enough to return and ask him when he intends to wake up?" The garrulous old lady in the stern of the boat had pestered the guide with her comments and questions ever since they had started. Her meek little husband, who was hunched toad-like in the bow, fished in silence. The old lady had seemingly exhausted every possible point in fish and animal life, woodcraft, and personal history when she suddenly espied one of those curious paths of oily, unbroken water frequently seen on small lakes which are ruffled by a light breeze. "Oh, guide, guide," she exclaimed, "what makes that funny streak in the water—No, there—Right over there!" The guide was busy re-baiting the old gentleman's hook and merely mumbled "U-m-mm." "Guide," repeated the old lady in tones that were not to be denied, "look right over there where I'm pointing and tell me what makes that funny streak in the water." The guide looked up from his baiting with a sigh. "That? Oh, that's where the road went across the ice last winter." Nothing more clearly expresses the sentiments of Harvard men in seasons of athletic rivalry than the time-honored "To hell with Yale!" Once when Dean Briggs, of Harvard, and Edward Everett Hale were on their way to a game at Soldiers' Field a friend asked: "Where are you going, Dean?" "To yell with Hale," answered Briggs with a meaning smile. John Kendrick Bangs one day called up his wife on the telephone. The maid at the other end did not recognize her "master's voice," and after Bangs had told her whom he wanted the maid asked: "Do you wish to speak with Mrs. Bangs?" "No, indeed," replied the humorist; "I want to kiss her." A boy took a position in an office where two different telephones were installed. "Your wife would like to speak to you on the 'phone, sir," he said to his employer. "Which one?" inquired the boss, starting toward the two booths. "Please, sir, she didn't say, and I didn't know that you had more than one." An Englishman was being shown the sights along the Potomac. "Here," remarked the American, "is where George Washington threw a dollar across the river." "Well," replied the Englishman, "that is not very remarkable, for a dollar went much further in those days than it does now." The American would not be worsted, so, after a short pause, he said: "But Washington accomplished a greater feat than that. He once chucked a sovereign across the Atlantic." Pat was busy on a road working with his coat off. There were two Englishmen laboring on the same road, so they decided to have a joke with the Irishman. They painted a donkey's head on the back of Pat's coat, and watched to see him put it on. Pat, of course, saw the donkey's head on his coat, and, turning to the Englishmen, said: "Which of yez wiped your face on me coat?" A district leader went to Sea Girt, in 1912, to see the Democratic candidate for President. In the course of an animated conversation, the leader, noticing that Governor Wilson's eyeglasses were perched perilously near the tip of his nose remarked: "Your glasses, Governor, are almost on your mouth." "That's all right," was the quick response. "I want to see what I'm talking about." According to the London Globe two Germans were halted at the French frontier by the customs officers. "We have each to declare three bottles of red wine," said one of the Germans to the douaniers. "How much to pay?" "Where are the bottles?" asked the customs man. "They are within!" laughed the Teuton making a gesture. The French douanier, unruffled, took down his tariff book and read, or pretended to read: "Wines imported in bottles pay so much, wines imported in barrels pay so much, and wines en peaux d'âne pay no duty. You can pass, gentlemen." A small boy was hoeing corn in a sterile field by the roadside, when a passer-by stopped and said: "'Pears to me your corn is rather small." "Certainly," said the boy; "it's dwarf corn." "But it looks yaller." "Certainly; we planted the yaller kind." "But it looks as if you wouldn't get more than half a crop." "Of course not; we planted it on halves." REPORTINGSee Journalism; Newspapers. REPUBLICAN PARTYThe morning after a banquet, during the Democratic convention in Baltimore, a prominent Republican thus greeted an equally well-known Democrat: "I understand there were some Republicans at the banquet last night." "Oh, yes," said the Democrat genially, "one waited on me." REPUTATIONPopularity is when people like you; and reputation is when they ought to, but really can't.—Frank Richardson. RESEMBLANCESSenator Blackburn is a thorough Kentuckian, and has all the local pride of one born in the blue-grass section of his State. He also has the prejudice against being taken for an Indianian which seems inherent in all native-born Kentuckians. While coming to Congress, several sessions ago, he was approached in the Pullman coach by a New Yorker, who, after bowing politely to him, said: "Is not this Senator Blackburn of Indiana?" The Kentuckian sprang from his seat, and glaring at his interlocutor exclaimed angrily: "No, sir, by ——. The reason I look so bad is I have been sick!" "Every time the baby looks into my face he smiles," said Mr. Meekins. "Well," answered his wife, "it may not be exactly polite, but it shows he has a sense of humor." Mark Twain constantly received letters and photographs from men who had been told that they looked like him. One was from Florida, and the likeness, as shown by the man's picture, was really remarkable so remarkable, indeed, that Mr. Clemens sent the following acknowledgment:
NEIGHBOR: "Johnny, I think in looks you favor your mother a great deal." JOHNNY: "Well. I may look like her, but do you tink dat's a favor?" RESIGNATION"Then you don't think I practice what I preach, eh?" queried the minister in talking with one of the deacons at a meeting. "No, sir, I don't," replied the deacon "You've been preachin' on the subject of resignation for two years an' ye haven't resigned yet." RESPECTABILITY"Is he respectable?"' "Eminently so. He's never been indicted for anything less than stealing a railroad."—Wasp. REST CUREA weather-beaten damsel somewhat over six feet in height and with a pair of shoulders proportionately broad appeared at a back door in Wyoming and asked for light housework. She said that her name was Lizzie, and explained that she had been ill with typhoid and was convalescing. "Where did you come from, Lizzie?" inquired the woman of the house. "Where have you been?" "I've been workin' out on Howell's ranch," replied Lizzie, "diggin' post-holes while I was gittin' my strength back." RETALIATIONYou know that fellow, Jim McGroiarty, the lad that's always comin' up and thumpin' ye on the chest and yellin', 'How are ye?'" "I know him." "I'll bet he's smashed twinty cigars for me—some of them clear Havanny—but I'll get even with him now." "How will you do it?" "I'll tell ye. Jim always hits me over the vest pocket where I carry my cigars. He'll hit me just once more. There's no cigar in me vest pocket this mornin'. Instead of it, there's a stick of dynamite, d'ye mind!" Once when Henry Ward Beecher was in the midst of an eloquent political speech some wag in the audience crowed like a cock. It was done to perfection and the audience was convulsed with laughter. The great orator's friends felt uneasy as to his reception of the interruption. But Mr. Beecher stood perfectly calm. He stopped speaking, listened till the crowing ceased, and while the audience was laughing he pulled out his watch. Then he said: "That's strange. My watch says it is only ten o'clock. But there can't be any mistake about it. It must be morning, for the instincts of the lower animals are absolutely infallible." An Episcopal clergyman, rector of a fashionable church in one of Boston's most exclusive suburbs, so as not to be bothered with the innumerable telephone calls that fall to one in his profession, had his name left out of the telephone book. A prominent merchant of the same name, living in the same suburb, was continually annoyed by requests to officiate at funerals and baptisms. He went to the rector, told his troubles in a kindly way, and asked the parson to have his name put in the directory. But without success. The merchant then determined to complain to the telephone company. As he was writing the letter, one Saturday evening, the telephone rang and the timid voice of a young man asked if the Rev. Mr. Blank would marry him at once. A happy thought came to the merchant: "No, I'm too damn busy writing my sermon," he replied. REVOLUTIONSHaiti was in the midst of a revolution. As a phase of it two armed bodies were approaching each other so that a third was about to be caught between them. The commander of the third party saw the predicament. On the right government troops, on the left insurgents. "General, why do you not give the order to fire?" asked an aide, dashing up on a lame mule. "I would like to," responded the general, "but, Great Scott! I can't remember which side we're fighting for." REWARDSSaid a great Congregational preacher To a hen, "You're a beautiful creature." And the hen, just for that, Laid an egg in his hat, And thus did the Hen reward Beecher. RHEUMATISMFARMER BARNES—"I've bought a barometer, Hannah, to tell when it's going to rain, ye know." MRS. BARNES—"To tell when it's goin' to rain! Why, I never heard o' such extravagance. What do ye s'pose th' Lord has given ye th' rheumatis for?"—Tit-Bits. ROADSA Yankee just returning to the states was dining with an Englishman, and the latter complained of the mud in America. "Yes," said the American, "but it's nothing to the mud over here." "Nonsense!" said the Englishman. "Fact," the American replied. "Why, this afternoon I had a remarkable adventure—came near getting into trouble with an old gentleman—all through your confounded mud." "Some of the streets are a little greasy at this season, I admit," said the Englishman. "What was your adventure, though?" "Well," said the American, "as I was walking along I noticed that the mud was very thick, and presently I saw a high hat afloat on a large puddle of very rich ooze. Thinking to do some one a kindness, I gave the hat a poke with my stick, when an old gentleman looked up from beneath, surprised and frowning. 'Hello!' I said. 'You're in pretty deep!' 'Deeper than you think,' he said. 'I'm on the top of an omnibus!'" ROASTSAs William Faversham was having his luncheon in a Birmingham hotel he was much annoyed by another visitor, who, during the whole of the meal, stood with his back to the fire warming himself and watching Faversham eat. At length, unable to endure it any longer, Mr. Faversham rang the bell and said: "Waiter, kindly turn that gentleman around. I think he is done on that side." ROOSEVELT, THEODOREA delegation from Kansas visited Theodore Roosevelt at Oyster Bay some years ago, while he was president. The host met them with coat and collar off, mopping his brow. "Ah, gentlemen," he said, "dee-lighted to see you. Dee-lighted. But I'm very busy putting in my hay just now. Come down to the barn with me and we'll talk things over while I work." Down to the barn hustled President and delegation. Mr. Roosevelt seized a pitchfork and—but where was the hay? "John!" shouted the President. "John! where's all the hay?" "Sorry, sir," came John's voice from the loft, "but I ain't had time to throw it back since you threw it up for yesterday's delegation." SALARIESA country school-teacher was cashing her monthly check at the bank. The teller apologized for the filthy condition of the bills, saying, "I hope you're not afraid of microbes." "Not a bit of it," the schoolma'am replied. "I'm sure no microbe could live on my salary!"—Frances Kirkland. SALESMEN AND SALESMANSHIPA darky fruit-dealer in Georgia has a sign above his wares that reads: Watermelons Our choice . . . . . . . . . . 25 cents. Your choice. . . . . . . . . . 35 cents. —Elgin Burroughs. The quick wit of a traveling salesman who has since become a well-known merchant was severely tested one day. He sent in his card by the office-boy to the manager of a large concern, whose inner office was separated from the waiting-room by a ground-glass partition. When the boy handed his card to the manager the salesman saw him impatiently tear it in half and throw it in the waste-basket; the boy came out and told the caller that he could not see the chief. The salesman told the boy to go back and get him his card; the boy brought out five cents, with the message that his card was torn up. Then the salesman took out another card and sent the boy back, saying: "Tell your boss I sell two cards for five cents." He got his interview and sold a large bill of goods. A young man entered a hat store and asked to see the latest styles in derbies. He was evidently hard to please, for soon the counter was covered with hats that he had tried on and found wanting. At last the salesman picked up a brown derby, brushed it off on his sleeve, and extended it admiringly. "These are being very much worn this season, sir," he said. "Won't you try it on?" The customer put the hat on and surveyed himself critically in the mirror. "You're sure it's in style?" "The most fashionable thing we have in the shop, sir. And it suits you to perfection—if the fit's right." "Yes, it fits very well. So you think I had better have it?" "I don't think you could do better." "No, I don't think I could. So I guess I won't buy a new one after all." The salesman had been boosting the customer's old hat, which had become mixed among the many new ones. VISITOR—"Can I see that motorist who was brought here an hour ago?" NURSE—"He hasn't come to his senses yet." VISITOR—"Oh, that's all right. I only want to sell him another car."—Judge. "That fellow is too slick for me. Sold me a lot that was two feet under water. I went around to demand my money back." "Get it?" "Get nothing! Then he sold me a second-hand gasoline launch and a copy of 'Venetian Life,' by W.D. Howells." In a small South Carolina town that was "finished" before the war, two men were playing checkers in the back of a store. A traveling man who was making his first trip to the town was watching the game, and, not being acquainted with the business methods of the citizens, he called the attention of the owner of the store to some customers who had just entered the front door. "Sh! Sh!" answered the storekeeper, making another move on the checkerboard. "Keep perfectly quiet and they'll go out." He who finds he has something to sell, And goes and whispers it down a well, Is not so apt to collar the dollars, As he who climbs a tree and hollers. —The Advertiser SALOONS"Where can I get a drink in this town?" asked a traveling man who landed at a little town in the oil region of Oklahoma, of the 'bus driver. "See that millinery shop over there?" asked the driver, pointing to a building near the depot. "You don't mean to say they sell whiskey in a millinery store?" exclaimed the drummer. "No, I mean that's the only place here they don't sell it," said the 'bus man. SALVATIONWILLIS—"Some of these rich fellows seem to think that they can buy their way into heaven by leaving a million dollars to a church when they die." GILLIS—"I don't know but that they stand as much chance as some of these other rich fellows who are trying to get in on the instalment plan of ten cents a Sunday while they're living."—Lauren S. Hamilton. An Italian noble at church one day gave a priest who begged for the souls in purgatory, a piece of gold. "Ah, my lord," said the good father, "you have now delivered a soul." The count threw another piece upon the plate. "Here is another soul delivered," said the priest. "Are you positive of it?" replied the count. "Yes, my lord," replied the priest; "I am certain they are now in heaven." "Then," said the count, "I'll take back my money, for it signifies nothing to you now, seeing the souls have already got to heaven." An Episcopal missionary in Wyoming visited one of the outlying districts in his territory for the purpose of conducting prayer in the home of a large family not conspicuous for its piety. He made known his intentions to the woman of the house, and she murmured vaguely that "she'd go out and see." She was long in returning, and after a tiresome wait the missionary went to the door and called with some impatience: "Aren't you coming in? Don't you care anything about your souls?" "Souls?" yelled the head of the family from the orchard. "We haven't got time to fool with our souls when the bees are swarmin'." Edith was light-hearted and merry over everything. Nothing appealed to her seriously. So, one day, her mother decided to invite a very serious young parson to dinner, and he was placed next the light-hearted girl. Everything went well until she asked him: "You speak of everybody having a mission. What is yours?" "My mission," said the parson, "is to save young men." "Good," replied the girl, "I'm glad to meet you. I wish you'd save one for me." SAVINGTake care of the pennies and the dollars will be blown in by your heirs.—Puck. "Do you save up money for a rainy day, dear?" "Oh, no! I never shop when it rains." JOHNNY—"Papa, would you be glad if I saved a dollar for you?" PAPA—"Certainly, my son." JOHNNY—"Well, I saved it for you, all right. You said if I brought a first-class report from my teacher this week you would give me a dollar, and I didn't bring it." According to the following story, economy has its pains as well as its pleasures, even after the saving is done. One spring, for some reason, old Eli was going round town with the face of dissatisfaction, and, when questioned, poured forth his voluble tale of woe thus: "Marse Geo'ge, he come to me last fall an' he say, 'Eli, dis gwine ter be a hard winter, so yo' be keerful, an' save yo' wages fas' an' tight.' "An' I b'lieve Marse Geo'ge, yas, sah, I b'lieve him, an' I save an' I save, an' when de winter come it ain't got no hardship, an' dere was I wid all dat money jes' frown on mah hands!" "Robert dear," said the coy little maiden to her sweetheart, "I'm sure you love me; but give me some proof of it, darling. We can't marry on fifteen dollars a week, you know." "Well, what do you want me to do?" said he, with a grieved air. "Why, save up a thousand dollars, and have it safe in the bank, and then I'll marry you." About two months later she cuddled up close to him on the sofa one evening, and said: "Robert dear, have you saved up that thousand yet?" "Why, no, my love," he replied; "not all of it." "How much have you saved, darling?" "Just two dollars and thirty-five cents, dear." "Oh, well," said the sweet young thing as she snuggled a little closer, "don't let's wait any longer, darling. I guess that'll do."—R.M. Winans. See also Economy; Thrift. SCANDALAn ill wind that blows nobody good. SCHOLARSHIPThere is in Washington an old "grouch' whose son was graduated from Yale. When the young man came home at the end of his first term, he exulted in the fact that he stood next to the head of his class. But the old gentleman was not satisfied. "Next to the head!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean? I'd like to know what you think I'm sending you to college for? Next to the head! Why aren't you at the head, where you ought to be?" At this the son was much crestfallen; but upon his return, he went about his work with such ambition that at the end of the term he found himself in the coveted place. When he went home that year he felt very proud. It would be great news for the old man. When the announcement was made, the father contemplated his son for a few minutes in silence; then, with a shrug, he remarked: "At the head of the class, eh? Well, that's a fine commentary on Yale University!"—Howard Morse. "Well, there were only three boys in school to-day who could answer one question that the teacher asked us," said a proud boy of eight. "And I hope my boy was one of the three," said the proud mother. "Well, I was," answered Young Hopeful, "and Sam Harris and Harry Stone were the other two." "I am very glad you proved yourself so good a scholar, my son; it makes your mother proud of you. What question did the teacher ask, Johnnie?" "'Who broke the glass in the back window?'" Sammy's mother was greatly distressed because he had such poor marks in his school work. She scolded, coaxed, even promised him a dime if he would do better. The next day he came running home. "Oh, mother," he shouted, "I got a hundred!" "And what did you get a hundred in?" "In two things," replied Sammy without hesitation. "I got forty in readin' and sixty in spellin'." Who ceases to be a student has never been one.—George Iles. See also College students. SCHOOLS"Mamma," complained little Elsie, "I don't feel very well." "That's too bad, dear," said mother sympathetically. "Where do you feel worst?" "In school, mamma." SCIENTIFIC MANAGEMENTThe late Sylvanus Miller, civil engineer, who was engaged in railroad enterprise in Central America, was seeking local support for a road and attempted to give the matter point. He asked a native: "How long does it take you to carry your goods to market by muleback?" "Three days," was the reply. "There's the point," said Miller. "With our road in operation you could take your goods to market and be back home in one day." "Very good, senor," answered the native. "But what would we do with the other two days?" A visitor from New York to the suburbs said to his host during the afternoon: "By the way, your front gate needs repairing. It was all I could do to get it open. You ought to have it trimmed or greased or something." "Oh, no," replied the owner "Oh, no, that's all right." "Why is it?" asked the visitor. "Because," was the reply, "every one who comes through that gate pumps two buckets of water into the tank on the roof." SCOTCH, THEA Scotsman is one who prays on his knees on Sunday and preys on his neighbors on week days. It being the southerner's turn, he told about a county in Missouri so divided in sentiment that year after year the vote of a single man prohibits the sale of liquor there. "And what," he asked, "do you suppose is the name of the chap who keeps a whole county dry?" Nobody had an idea. "Mackintosh, as I'm alive!" declared the southerner. Everybody laughed except the Englishman. "It's just like a Scotsman to be so obstinate!" he sniffed, and was much astonished when the rest of the party laughed more than ever. A Scottish minister, taking his walk early in the morning, found one of his parishioners recumbent in a ditch. "Where hae you been the nicht, Andrew?" asked the minister. "Weel, I dinna richtly ken," answered the prostrate one, "whether it was a wedding' or a funeral, but whichever it was it was a most extraordinary success." See also Thrift. SEASICKNESSA Philadelphian, on his way to Europe, was experiencing seasickness for the first time. Calling his wife to his bedside, he said in a weak voice: "Jennie, my will is in the Commercial Trust Company's care. Everything is left to you, dear. My various stocks you will find in my safe-deposit box." Then he said fervently: "And, Jenny, bury me on the other side. I can't stand this trip again, alive or dead."—Joe King. Motto for the dining saloon of an ocean steamship: "Man wants but little here below, nor wants that little long." On the steamer the little bride was very much concerned about her husband, who was troubled with dyspepsia. "My husband is peculiarly liable to seasickness, Captain," remarked the bride. "Could you tell him what to do in case of an attack?" "That won't be necessary, Madam," replied the Captain; "he'll do it." A clergyman who was holding a children's service at a Continental winter resort had occasion to catechize his hearers on the parable, of the unjust steward. "What is a steward?" he asked. A little boy who had arrived from England a few days before held up his hand. "He is a man, sir," he replied, with a reminiscent look on his face, "who brings you a basin." "The first day out was perfectly lovely," said the young lady just back from abroad. "The water was as smooth as glass, and it was simply gorgeous. But the second day was rough and—er—decidedly disgorgeous." The great ocean liner rolled and pitched. "Henry," faltered the young bride, "do you still love me?" "More than ever, darling!" was Henry's fervent answer. Then there was an eloquent silence. "Henry," she gasped, turning her pale, ghastly face away, "I thought that would make me feel better, but it doesn't!" There was a young man from Ostend, Who vowed he'd hold out to the end; But when half way over From Calais to Dover, He did what he didn't intend. SEASONSThere was a young fellow named Hall, Who fell in the spring in the fall; 'Twould have been a sad thing If he'd died in the spring, But he didn't—he died in the fall. SENATORSA Senator is very often a man who has risen from obscurity to something worse. "You have been conspicuous in the halls of legislation, have you not?" said the young woman who asks all sorts of questions. "Yes, miss," answered Senator Sorghum, blandly; "I think I have participated in some of the richest hauls that legislation ever made." An aviator alighted on a field and said to a rather well-dressed individual: "Here, mind my machine a minute, will you?" "What?" the well-dressed individual snarled. "Me mind your machine? Why, I'm a United States Senator!" "Well, what of it?" said the aviator. "I'll trust you." SENSE OF HUMOR"What of his sense of humor?" "Well, he has to see a joke twice before he sees it once." —Richard Kirk. "A sense of humor is a help and a blessing through life," says Rear Admiral Buhler. "But even a sense of humor may exist in excess. I have in mind the case of a British soldier who was sentenced to be flogged. During the flogging he laughed continually. The harder the lash was laid on, the harder the soldier laughed. "'Wot's so funny about bein' flogged?' demanded the sergeant. "'Why,' the soldier chuckled, 'I'm the wrong man.'" Mark Twain once approached a friend, a business man, and confided to him that he needed the assistance of a stenographer. "I can send you one, a fine young fellow," the friend said, "He came to my office yesterday in search of a position, but I didn't have an opening." "Has he a sense of humor?" Mark asked cautiously. "A sense of humor? He has—in fact, he got off one or two pretty witty things himself yesterday," the friend hastened to assure him. "Sorry, but he won't do, then," Mark said. "Won't do? Why?" "No," said Mark. "I had one once before with a sense of humor, and it interfered too much with the work. I cannot afford to pay a man two dollars a day for laughing." The perception of the ludicrous is a pledge of sanity.—Emerson. SENTRIESSee Armies. SERMONSSee Preaching. SERVANTSTOMMY—"Pop, what is it that the Bible says is here to-day and gone to-morrow?" POP—"Probably the cook, my son." As usual, they began discussing the play after the theater. "Well, how did you like the piece, my dear?" asked the fond husband who had always found his wife a good critic. "Very much. There's only one improbable thing in it: the second act takes place two years after the first, and they have the same servant." SMITH—"We are certainly in luck with our new cook—soup, meat, vegetables and dessert, everything perfect!" MRS. S.—"Yes, but the dessert was made by her successor." THE NEW GIRL—"An' may me intended visit me every Sunday afternoon, ma'am?" MISTRESS—"Who is your intended, Delia?" THE NEW GIRL—"I don't know yet, ma'am. I'm a stranger in town." "And do you have to be called in the morning?" asked the lady who was about to engage a new girl. "I don't has to be, mum," replied the applicant, "unless you happens to need me." A maid dropped and broke a beautiful platter at a dinner recently. The host did not permit a trifle like this to ruffle him in the least. "These little accidents happen 'most every day," he said apologetically. "You see, she isn't a trained waitress. She was a dairymaid originally, but she had to abandon that occupation on account of her inability to handle the cows without breaking their horns." Young housewives obliged to practice strict economy will sympathize with the sad experience of a Washington woman. When her husband returned home one evening he found her dissolved in tears, and careful questioning elicited the reason for her grief. "Dan," said she, "every day this week I have stopped to look at a perfect love of a hat in Mme. Louise's window. Such a hat, Dan, such a beautiful hat! But the price—well, I wanted it the worst way, but just couldn't afford to buy it." "Well, dear," began the husband recklessly, "we might manage to—" "Thank you, Dan," interrupted the wife, "but there isn't any 'might' about it. I paid the cook this noon, and what do you think? She marched right down herself and bought that hat!"—Edwin Tarrisse. It is probable that many queens of the kitchen share the sentiment good-naturedly expressed by a Scandinavian servant, recently taken into the service of a young matron of Chicago. The youthful assumer of household cares was disposed to be a trifle patronizing. "Now, Lena," she asked earnestly, "are you a good cook?" "Ya-as, 'm, I tank so," said the girl, with perfect naiveté, "if you vill not try to help me."—Elgin Burroughs. "Have you a good cook now?" "I don't know. I haven't been home since breakfast!" MRS. LITTLETOWN—"This magazine looks rather the worse for wear." MRS. NEARTOWN—"Yes, it's the one I sometimes lend to the servant on Sundays." MRS. LITTLETOWN—"Doesn't she get tired of always reading the same one?" MRS. NEARTOWN—"Oh, no. You see, it's the same book, but it's always a different servant."—Suburban Life. MRS. HOUSEN HOHM—"What is your name?" APPLICANT FOR COOKSHIP—"Miss Arlington." MRS. HOUSEN HOHM—"Do you expect to be called Miss Arlington?" APPLICANT—-"No, ma'am; not if you have an alarm clock in my room." MISTRESS—"Nora, I saw a policeman in the park to-day kiss a baby. I hope you will remember my objection to such things." NORA—"Sure, ma'am, no policeman would ever think iv kissin' yer baby whin I'm around." See also Gratitude; Recommendations. SHOPPINGCLERK—"Can you let me off to-morrow afternoon? My wife wants me to go shopping with her." EMPLOYER—"Certainly not. We are much too busy." CLERK—"Thank you very much, sir. You are very kind!" SHYNESSThe late "lan Maclaren" (Dr. John Watson) once told this story on himself to some friends: "I was coming over on the steamer to America, when one day I went into the library to do some literary work. I was very busy and looked so, I suppose. I had no sooner started to write than a diffident-looking young man plumped into the chair opposite me, began twirling his cap and stared at me. I let him sit there. An hour or more passed, and he was still there, returning my occasional and discouraging glances at him with a foolish, ingratiating smile. I was inclined to be annoyed. I had a suspicion that he was a reader of my books, perhaps an admirer—or an autograph-hunter. He could wait. But at last he rose, and still twirling his cap, he spoke: "'Excuse me, Doctor Watson; I'm getting deathly sick in here and I'm real sorry to disturb you, but I thought you'd like to know that just as soon as you left her Mrs. Watson fell down the companionway stairs, and I guess she hurt herself pretty badly.'" SIGNSWhen the late Senator Wolcott first went to Colorado he and his brother opened a law office at Idaho Springs under the firm name of "Ed. Wolcott & Bro." Later the partnership was dissolved. The future senator packed his few assets, including the sign that had hung outside of his office, upon a burro and started for Georgetown, a mining town farther up in the hills. Upon his arrival he was greeted by a crowd of miners who critically surveyed him and his outfit. One of them, looking first at the sign that hung over the pack, then at Wolcott, and finally at the donkey, ventured: "Say, stranger, which of you is Ed?" "Buck" Kilgore, of Texas, who once kicked open the door of the House of Representatives when Speaker Reed had all doors locked to prevent the minority from leaving the floor and thus escaping a vote, was noted for his indifference to forms and rules. Speaker Reed, annoyed by members bringing lighted cigars upon the floor of the House just before opening time, had signs conspicuously posted as follows: "No smoking on the floor of the House." One day just before convening the House his eagle eye detected Kilgore nonchalantly puffing away at a fat cigar. Calling a page, he told him to give his compliments to the gentleman from Texas and ask him if he had not seen the signs. After a while the page returned and seated himself without reporting to the Speaker, and Mr. Reed was irritated to see the gentleman from Texas continue his smoke. With a frown he summoned the page and asked: "Did you tell the gentleman from Texas what I said?" "I did," replied the page. "What did he say?" asked Reed. "Well—er," stammered the page, "he said to give his compliments to you and tell you he did not believe in signs." SILENCEA conversation with an Englishman.—Heine. BALL-"What is silence?" HALL-"The college yell of the school of experience." The other day upon the links a distinguished clergyman was playing a closely contested game of golf. He carefully teed up his ball and addressed it with the most aproved grace; he raised his driver and hit the ball a tremendous clip, but instead of soaring into the azure it perversely went about twelve feet to the right and then buzzed around in a circle. The clerical gentleman frowned, scowled, pursed up his mouth and bit his lips, but said nothing, and a friend who stood by him said: "Doctor, that is the most profane silence I ever witnessed." SINMan-like is it to fall into sin, Fiend-like is it to dwell therein, Christ-like is it for sin to grieve, God-like is it all sin to leave. —Friedrich von Logan. "Now," said the clergyman to the Sunday-school class, "can any of you tell me what are sins of omission?" "Yes, sir," said the small boy. "They are the sins we ought to have done and haven't." SINGERSAs the celebrated soprano began to sing, little Johnnie became greatly exercised over the gesticulations of the orchestra conductor. "What's that man shaking his stick at her for?" he demanded indignantly. "Sh-h! He's not shaking his stick at her." But Johnny was not convinced. "Then what in thunder's she hollering for?" A visiting clergyman was occupying a pulpit in St. Louis one Sunday when it was the turn of the bass to sing a solo, which he did very badly, to the annoyance of the preacher, a lover of music. When the singer fell back in his seat, red of face and exhausted, the clergyman arose, placed his hands on the unopened Bible, deliberately surveyed the faces of the congregation, and announced the text: "And the wind ceased and there was a great calm." It wasn't the text he had chosen, but it fitted his sermon as well as the occasion. One cold, wet, and windy night he came upon a negro shivering in the doorway of an Atlanta store. Wondering what the darky could be doing, standing on a cold, wet night in such a draughty position, the proprietor of the shop said: "Jim, what are you doing here?" "'Sense me, sir," said Jim, "but I'm gwine to sing bass tomorrow mornin' at church, an' I am tryin' to ketch a cold."—Howard Morse. "The man who sings all day at work is a happy man." "Yes, but how about the man who works and has to listen to him?" Miss Jeanette Gilder was one of the ardent enthusiasts at the debut of Tetrazzini. After the first act she rushed to the back of the house to greet one of her friends. "Don't you think she is a wonder?" she asked excitedly. "She is a great singer unquestionably," responded her more phlegmatic friend, "but the registers of her voice are not so even as, for instance, Melba's." "Oh, bother Melba," said Miss Gilder. "Tetrazzini gives infinitely more heat from her registers." At a certain Scottish dinner it was found that every one had contributed to the evening's entertainment but a certain Doctor MacDonald. "Come, come, Doctor MacDonald," said the chairman, "we cannot let you escape." The doctor protested that he could not sing. "My voice is altogether unmusical, and resembles the sound caused by the act of rubbing a brick along the panels of a door." The company attributed this to the doctor's modesty. Good singers, he was reminded, always needed a lot of pressing. "Very well," said the doctor, "if you can stand it I will sing." Long before he had finished his audience was uneasy. There was a painful silence as the doctor sat down, broken at length by the voice of a braw Scot at the end of the table. "Mon," he exclaimed, "your singin's no up to much, but your veracity's just awful. You're richt aboot that brick." She smiles, my darling smiles, and all The world is filled with light; She laughs—'tis like the bird's sweet call, In meadows fair and bright. She weeps—the world is cold and gray, Rain-clouds shut out the view; She sings—I softly steal away And wait till she gets through. God sent his singers upon earth With songs of gladness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, And bring them back to heaven again. —Longfellow. SKATINGA young lady entered a crowded car with a pair of skates slung over her arm. An elderly gentleman arose to give her his seat. "Thank you very much, sir," she said, "but I've been skating all afternoon, and I'm tired of sitting down." SKY-SCRAPERSSee Buildings. SLEEPRecently a friend who had heard that I sometimes suffer from insomnia told me of a sure cure. "Eat a pint of peanuts and drink two or three glasses of milk before going to bed," said he, "and I'll warrant you'll be asleep within half an hour." I did as he suggested, and now for the benefit of others who may be afflicted with insomnia, I feel it my duty to report what happened, so far as I am able to recall the details. First, let me say my friend was right. I did go to sleep very soon after my retirement. Then a friend with his head under his arm came along and asked me if I wanted to buy his feet. I was negotiating with him, when the dragon on which I was riding slipped out of his skin and left me floating in mid-air. While I was considering how I should get down, a bull with two heads peered over the edge of the wall and said he would haul me up if I would first climb up and rig a windlass for him. So as I was sliding down the mountainside the brakeman came in, and I asked him when the train would reach my station. "We passed your station four hundred years ago," he said, calmly folding the train up and slipping it into his vest pocket. At this juncture the clown bounded into the ring and pulled the center-pole out of the ground, lifting the tent and all the people in it up, up, while I stood on the earth below watching myself go out of sight among the clouds above. Then I awoke, and found I had been asleep almost ten minutes.—The Good Health Clinic. SMILESThere was a young lady of Niger, Who went for a ride on a tiger; They returned from the ride With the lady inside, And a smile on the face of the tiger. —Gilbert K. Chesterton. SMOKINGA woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke.—Rudyard Kipling. AUNT MARY—(horrified) "Good gracious. Harold, what would your mother say if she saw you smoking cigarets?" HAROLD (calmly)—"She'd have a fit. They're her cigarets." An Irish soldier on sentry duty had orders to allow no one to smoke near his post. An officer with a lighted cigar approached whereupon Pat boldly challenged him and ordered him to put it out at once. The officer with a gesture of disgust threw away his cigar, but no sooner was his back turned than Pat picked it up and quietly retired to the sentry box. The officer happening to look around, observed a beautiful cloud of smoke issuing from the box. He at once challenged Pat for smoking on duty. "Smoking, is it, sor? Bedad, and I'm only keeping it lit to show the corporal when he comes as evidence agin you." SNEEZINGWhile campaigning in Iowa Speaker Cannon was once inveigled into visiting the public schools of a town where he was billed to speak. In one of the lower grades an ambitious teacher called upon a youthful Demosthenes to entertain the distinguished visitor with an exhibition of amateur oratory. The selection attempted was Byron's "Battle of Waterloo," and just as the boy reached the end of the first paragraph Speaker Cannon gave vent to a violent sneeze. "But, hush! hark!" declaimed the youngster; "a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it?" The visitors smiled and a moment later the second sneeze—which the Speaker was vainly trying to hold back—came with increased violence. "But, hark!" bawled the boy, "that heavy sound breaks in once more, and nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is—it is—the cannon's opening roar!" This was too much, and the laugh that broke from the party swelled to a roar when "Uncle Joe" chuckled: "Put up yout weapons, children; I won't shoot any more." SNOBBERYSnobbery is the pride of those who are not sure of their position. SNORINGSnore—An unfavorable report from headquarters.—Foolish Dictionary. SOCIALISTSAmong the stories told of the late Baron de Rothschild is one which details how a "change of heart" once came to his valet—an excellent fellow, albeit a violent "red." Alphonse was as good a servant as one would wish to employ, and as his socialism never got farther than attending a weekly meeting, the baron never objected to his political faith. After a few months of these permissions to absent himself from duty, his employer noticed one week that he did not ask to go. The baron thought Alphonse might have forgotten the night, but when the next week he stayed at home, he inquired what was up. "Sir," said the valet, with the utmost dignity, "some of my former colleagues have worked out a calculation that if all the wealth in France were divided equally per capita, each individual would be the possessor of two thousand francs." Then he stopped as if that told the whole story, so said the baron, "What of that?" "Sir," came back from the enlightened Alphonse, "I have five thousand francs now."—Warwick James Price. SOCIETYSmart Society is made up of the worldly, the fleshy, and the devilish.—Harold Melbourne. "What are her days at home?" "Oh, a society leader has no days at home anymore. Nowadays she has her telephone hours." Society consists of two classes, the upper and the lower. The latter cultivates the dignity of labor, the former the labor of dignity.—Punch. There was a young person called Smarty, Who sent out his cards for a party; So exclusive and few Were the friends that he knew That no one was present but Smarty. SOLECISMSA New York firm recently hung the following sign at the entrance of a large building: "Wanted: Sixty girls to sew buttons on the sixth floor." Reporters are obliged to write their descriptions of accidents hastily and often from meager data, and in the attempt to make them vivid they sometimes make them ridiculous; for example, a New York City paper a few days ago, in describing a collision between a train and a motor bus, said: "The train, too, was filled with passengers. Their shrieks mingled with the cries of the dead and the dying of the bus!" SONS"I thought your father looked very handsome with his gray hairs." "Yes, dear old chap. I gave him those." SOUVENIRS"A friend of mine, traveling in Ireland, stopped for a drink of milk at a white cottage with a thatched roof, and, as he sipped his refreshment, he noted, on a center table under a glass dome, a brick with a faded rose upon the top of it. "'Why do you cherish in this way,' my friend said to his host, 'that common brick and that dead rose?' "'Shure, sir,' was the reply, 'there's certain memories attachin' to them. Do ye see this big dent in my head? Well, it was made by that brick.' "'But the rose?' said my friend. His host smiled quietly. "'The rose,' he explained, 'is off the grave of the man that threw the brick.'" SPECULATIONThere are two times in a man's life when he should not speculate: when he can't afford it, and when he can.—Mark Twain. SPEED"I always said old Cornelius Husk was slow," said one Quag man to another. "Why, what's he been doin' now?" the other asked. "Got himself run over by a hearse!" "So you heard the bullet whiz past you?" asked the lawyer of the darky. "Yes, sah, heard it twict." "How's that?" "Heard it whiz when it passed me, and heard it again when I passed it." A near race riot happened in a southern town. The negroes gathered in one crowd and the whites in another. The whites fired their revolvers into the air, and the negroes took to their heels. Next day a plantation owner said to one of his men: "Sam, were you in that crowd that gathered last night?" "Yassir." "Did you run like the wind, Sam?" "No, sir. I didn't run like the wind,'deed I didn't. But I passed two niggers that was running like the wind." A guest in a Cincinnati hotel was shot and killed. The negro porter who heard the shooting was a witness at the trial. "How many shots did you hear?" asked the lawyer. "Two shots, sah," he replied. "How far apart were they?" '"Bout like dis way," explained the negro, clapping his hands with an interval of about a second between claps. "Where were you when the first shot was fired?" "Shinin' a gemman's shoe in the basement of de hotel." "Where were you when the second shot was fired?" "Ah was passin' de Big Fo' depot." SPINSTERS"Is there anyone present who wishes the prayers of the congregation for a relative or friend?" asks the minister. "I do," says the angular lady arising from the rear pew. "I want the congregation to pray for my husband." "Why, sister Abigail!" replies the minister. "You have no husband as yet." "Yes, but I want you all to pitch in an' pray for one for me!" Some time ago the wife of an assisstant state officer gave a party to a lot of old maids of her town. She asked each one to bring a photograph of the man who had tried to woo and wed her. Each of the old maids brought a photograph and they were all pictures of the same man, the hostess's husband. Maude Adams was one day discussing with her old negro "mammy" the approaching marriage of a friend. "When is you gwine to git married, Miss Maudie?" asked the mammy, who took a deep interest in her talented young mistress. "I don't know, mammy," answered the star. "I don't think I'll ever get married." "Well," sighed mammy, in an attempt to be philosophical, "they do say ole maids is the happies' kind after they quits strugglin'." Here's to the Bachelor, so lonely and gay, For it's not his fault, he was born that way; And here's to the Spinster, so lonely and good; For it's not her fault, she hath done what she could. An old maid on the wintry side of fifty, hearing of the marriage of a pretty young lady, her friend, observed with a deep and sentimental sigh: "Well, I suppose it is what we must all come to." A famous spinster, known throughout the country for her charities, was entertaining a number of little girls from a charitable institution. After the luncheon, the children were shown through the place, in order that they might enjoy the many beautiful things it contained. "This," said the spinster, indicating a statue, "is Minerva." "Was Minerva married?" asked one of the little girls. "No, my child," said the spinster, with a smile; "Minerva was the Goddess of Wisdom."—E.T. There once was a lonesome, lorn spinster, And luck had for years been ag'inst her; When a man came to burgle She shrieked, with a gurgle, "Stop thief, while I call in a min'ster!" SPITEThink twice before you speak, and then you may be able to say something more aggraviting than if you spoke right out at once. A man had for years employed a steady German workman. One day Jake came to him and asked to be excused from work the next day. "Certainly, Jake," beamed the employer. "What are you going to do?" "Vall," said Jake slowly. "I tink I must go by mein wife's funeral. She dies yesterday." After the lapse of a few weeks Jake again approached his boss for a day off. "All right, Jake, but what are you going to do this time?" "Aber," said Jake, "I go to make me, mit mein fräulein, a wedding." "What? So soon? Why, it's only been three weeks since you buried your wife." "Ach!" replied Jake, "I don't hold spite long." SPRINGIn the spring the housemaid's fancy Lightly turns from pot and pan To the greater necromancy Of a young unmarried man. You can hold her through the winter, And she'll work around and sing, But it's just as good as certain She will marry in the spring. It is easy enough to look pleasant, When the spring comes along with a rush; But the fellow worth-while Is the one who can smile When he slips and sits down in the slush. —Leslie Van Every. STAMMERINGOne of the ushers approached a man who appeared to be annoying those about him. "Don't you like the show?" "Yes, indeed!" "Then why do you persist in hissing the performers?" "Why, m-man alive, I w-was-n't h-hissing! I w-was s-s-im-ply s-s-s-saying to S-s-s-sammie that the s-s-s-singing is s-s-s-superb." A man who stuttered badly went to a specialist and after ten difficult lessons learned to say quite distinctly, "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers." His friends congratulated him upon this splendid achievement. "Yes," said the man doubtfully, "but it's s-s-such a d-d-deucedly d-d-d-difficult rem-mark to w-w-work into an ordin-n-nary c-c-convers-s-sa-tion, y' know." STATESMENA statesman is a deal politician.—Mr. Dooley. A statesman is a man who finds out which way the crowd is going, then jumps in front and yells like blazes. STATISTICSAn earnest preacher in Georgia, who has a custom of telling the Lord all the news in his prayers, recently began a petition for help against the progress of wickedness in his town, with the statement: "Oh, Thou great Jehovah, crime is on the increase. It is becoming more prevalent daily. I can prove it to you by statistics." PATIENT—"Tell me candidly, Doc, do you think I'll pull through?" DOCTOR—"Oh, you're bound to get well—you can't help yourself. The Medical Record shows that out of one hundred cases like yours, one per cent invariably recovers. I've treated ninety-nine cases, and every one of them died. Why, man alive, you can't die if you try! There's no humbug in statistics." STEAK"Can I get a steak here and catch the one o'clock train?" "It depends on your teeth, sir." STEAM"Can you tell what steam is?" asked the examiner. "Why, sure, sir," replied Patrick confidently. "Steam is—Why—er—it's wather thos's gone crazy wid the heat." STEAMSHIPS AND STEAMBOATS"That new steamer they're building is a whopper," says the man with the shoe button nose. "Yes," agrees the man with the recalcitrant hair, "but my uncle is going to build one so long that when a passenger gets seasick in one end of it he can go to the other end and be clear away from the storm." STENOGRAPHERSA beautiful statuesque blond had left New York to act as stenographer to a dignified Philadelphian of Quaker descent. On the morning of her first appearance she went straight to the desk of her employer. "I presume," she remarked, "that you begin the day over here the same as they do in New York?" "Oh, yes," replied the employer, without glancing up from a letter he was reading. "Well, hurry up and kiss me, then," was the startling rejoinder, "I want to get to work." STOCK BROKERSA grain broker in New Boston, Maine, Said, "That market gives me a pain; I can hardly bear it, To bull—I don't dare it, For it's going against the grain." —Minnesota Minne-Ha-Ha. STRATEGYA bird dog belonging to a man in Mulvane disappeared last week. The owner put this "ad" in the paper and insisted that it be printed exactly as he wrote it: LOST OR RUN AWAY—One livver culered burd dog called Jim. Will show signs of hyderfobby in about three days. The dog came home the following day. "Boy, take these flowers to Miss Bertie Bohoo, Room 12." "My, sir, you're the fourth gentleman wot's sent her flowers to-day." "What's that? What the deuce? W—who sent the others?" "Oh, they didn't send any names. They all said, 'She'll know where they come from.'" "Well, here, take my card, and tell her these are from the same one who sent the other three boxes." The little girl was having a great deal of trouble pronouncing some of the words she met with. "Vinegar" had given her the most trouble, and she was duly grieved to know that the village was being entertained by her efforts in this direction. She was sent one day to the store with the vinegar-jug, to get it filled, and had no intention of amusing the people who were gathered in the store. So she handed the jug to the clerk with: "Smell the mouth of it and give me a quart." A young couple had been courting for several years, and the young man seemed to be in no hurry to marry. Finally, one day, he said: "Sall, I canna marry thee." "How's that?" asked she. "I've changed my mind," said he. "Well, I'll tell thee what we'll do," said she. "If folks know that it's thee as has given me up I shanna be able to get another chap; but if they think I've given thee up then I can get all I want. So we'll have banns published and when the wedding day comes the parson will say to thee, 'Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?' and thou must say, 'I will.' And when he says to me, 'Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband?' I shall say, 'I winna.'" The day came, and when the minister asked the important question the man answered: "I will." Then the parson said to the woman: "Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband?" and she said: "I will." "Why," said the young man furiously, "you said you would say 'I winna.'" "I know that," said the young woman, "but I've changed my mind since." Charles Stuart, formerly senator from Michigan, was traveling by stage through his own state. The weather was bitter cold, the snow deep, and the roads practically unbroken. The stage was nearly an hour late at the dinner station and everybody was cross and hungry. In spite of the warning, "Ten minutes only for refreshments," Senator Stuart sat down to dinner with his usual deliberation. When he had finished his first cup of coffee the other passengers were leaving the table. By the time his second cup arrived the stage was at the door. "All aboard!" shouted the driver. The senator lingered and called for a third cup of coffee. While the household, as was the custom, assembled at the door to see the stage oft, the senator calmly continued his meal. Suddenly, just as the stage was starting, he pounded violently on the dining-room table. The landlord hurried in. The senator wanted a dish of rice-pudding. When it came he called for a spoon. There wasn't a spoon to be found. "That shock-headed fellow took 'em!" exclaimed the landlady. "I knew him for a thief the minute I laid eyes on him." The landlord jumped to the same conclusion. "Hustle after that stage!" he shouted to the sheriff, who was untying his horse from the rail in front of the tavern. "Bring 'em all back. They've taken the silver!" A few minutes later the stage, in charge of the sheriff, swung around in front of the house. The driver was in a fury. "Search them passengers!" insisted the landlord. But before the officer could move, the senator opened the stage door, stepped inside, then leaned out, touched the sheriff's arm and whispered: "Tell the landlord he'll find his spoons in the coffee-pot." SUBWAYSAny one who has ever traveled on the New York subway in rush hours can easily appreciate the following: A little man, wedged into the middle of a car, suddenly thought of pickpockets, and quite as suddenly remembered that he had some money in his overcoat. He plunged his hand into his pocket and was somewhat shocked upon encountering the fist of a fat fellow-passenger. "Aha!" snorted the latter. "I caught you that time!" "Leggo!" snarled the little man. "Leggo my hand!" "Pickpocket!" hissed the fat man. "Scoundrel!" retorted the little one. Just then a tall man in their vicinity glanced up from his paper. "I'd like to get off here," he drawled, "if you fellows don't mind taking your hands out of my pocket." SUCCESSNothing succeeds like excess.—Life. Nothing succeeds like looking successful.—Henriette Corkland. Success in life often consists in knowing just when to disagree with one's employer. A New Orleans lawyer was asked to address the boys of a business school. He commenced: "My young friends, as I approached the entrance to this room I noticed on the panel of the door a word eminently appropriate to an institution of this kind. It expresses the one thing most useful to the average man when he steps into the arena of life. It was—" "Pull," shouted the boys, in a roar of laughter, and the lawyer felt that he had taken his text from the wrong side of the door. I'd rather be a Could Be If I could not be an Are; For a Could Be is a May Be, With a chance of touching par. I'd rather be a Has Been Than a Might Have Been, by far; For a Might Have Been has never been, But a Has was once an Are. 'Tis not in mortals to command success, But we'll do more, Sempronius,— We'll deserve it. —Addison. There are two ways of rising in the world: either by one's own industry or profiting by the foolishness of others.—La Bruyère. Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. —Emily Dickinson. See also Making good. SUFFRAGETTESWhen a married woman goes out to look after her rights, her husband is usually left at home to look after his wrongs.—Child Harold. "'Ullo, Bill, 'ow's things with yer?" "Lookin' up, Tom, lookin' up." "Igh cost o' livin' not 'ittin' yer, Bill?" "Not so 'ard, Tom—not so 'ard. The missus 'as went 'orf on a hunger stroike and me butcher's bills is cut in arf!" I'd hate t' be married t' a suffragette an' have t' eat Battle Creek breakfasts.—Abe Martin. FIRST ENGLISHMAN—"Why do you allow your wife to be a militant suffragette?" SECOND ENGLISHMAN—"When she's busy wrecking things outside we have comparative peace at home."—Life. Recipe for a suffragette: To the power that already lies in her hands You add equal rights with the gents; You'll find votes that used to bring two or three plunks, Marked down to ninety-eight cents. When Mrs. Pankhurst, the English suffragette, was in America she met and became very much attached to Mrs. Lee Preston, a New York woman of singular cleverness of mind and personal attraction. After the acquaintance had ripened somewhat Mrs. Pankhurst ventured to say: "I do hope, Mrs. Preston, that you are a suffragette." "Oh, dear no!" replied Mrs. Preston; "you know, Mrs. Pankhurst, I am happily married." BILL—"Jake said he was going to break up the suffragette meeting the other night. Were his plans carried out?" DILL—"No, Jake was."—Life. SLASHER—"Been in a fight?" MASHER—"No. I tried to flirt with a pretty suffragette."—Judge. "What sort of a ticket does your suffragette club favor?" "Well," replied young Mrs. Torkins, "if we owned right up, I think most of us would prefer matinée tickets." See also Woman suffrage. SUICIDEThe Chinese Consul at San Francisco, at a recent dinner, discussed his country's customs. "There is one custom," said a young girl, "that I can't understand—and that is the Chinese custom of committing suicide by eating gold-leaf. I can't understand how gold-leaf can kill." "The partaker, no doubt," smiled the Consul, "succumbs from a consciousness of inward gilt." SUMMER RESORTSGABE—"What are you going back to that place for this summer? Why, last year it was all mosquitoes and no fishing." STEVE—"The owner tells me that he has crossed the mosquitoes with the fish, and guarantees a bite every second." "I suppose," said the city man, "there are some queer characters around an old village like this." "You'll find a good many," admitted the native, "when the hotels fill up." SUNDAYAlbert was a solemn-eyed, spiritual-looking child. "Nurse," he said one day, leaving his blocks and laying his hand on her knee, "nurse, is this God's day?" "No, dear," said the nurse, "this is not Sunday; it is Thursday." "I'm so sorry," he said, sadly, and went back to his blocks. The next day and the next in his serious manner he asked the same question, and the nurse tearfully said to the cook: "That child is too good for this world." On Sunday the question was repeated, and the nurse, with a sob in her voice, said: "Yes, lambie, this is God's day." "Then where is the funny paper?" he demanded. TEACHER—"Good little boys do not skate on Sunday, Corky. Don't you think that is very nice of them?" CORKY—"Sure t'ing!" TEACHER—"And why is it nice of them, Corky?" CORKY—"Aw, it leaves more room on de ice! See?" Of all the days that's in the week, I dearly love but one day, And that's the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday. —Henry Carey. O day of rest! How beautiful, how fair, How welcome to the weary and the old! Day of the Lord! and truce to earthly care! Day of the Lord, as all our days should be! —Longfellow. SUNDAY SCHOOLS"Now, Willie," said the superintendent's little boy, addressing the blacksmith's little boy, who had come over for a frolic, "we'll play 'Sabbath School.' You give me a nickel every Sunday for six months, and then at Christmas I'll give you a ten-cent bag of candy." When Lottie returned from her first visit to Sunday-school, she was asked what she had learned. "God made the world in six days and was arrested on the seventh day," was her version of the lesson imparted. The teacher asked: "When did Moses live?" After the silence had become painful she ordered: "Open your Old Testaments. What does it say there?" A boy answered: "Moses, 4000." "Now," said the teacher, "why didn't you know when Moses lived?" "Well," replied the boy, "I thought it was his telephone number,"—Suburban Life. "How many of you boys," asked the Sunday-school superintendent, "can bring two other boys next Sunday?" There was no response until a new recruit raised his hand hesitatingly. "Well, William?" "I can't bring two, but there's one little feller I can lick, and I'll do my damnedest to bring him." SUPERSTITIONSuperstition is a premature explanation overstaying its time.—George Iles. SURPRISE"Where are you goin', ma?" asked the youngest of five children. "I'm going to a surprise party, my dear," answered the mother. "Are we all goin', too?" "No, dear. You weren't invited." After a few moments' deep thought: "Say, ma, then don't you think they'd be lots more surprised if you did take us all?" SWIMMERSTwo negro roustabouts at New Orleans were continually bragging about their ability as long distance swimmers and a steamboat man got up a match. The man who swam the longest distance was to receive $5. The Alabama Whale immediately stripped on the dock, but the Human Steamboat said he had some business and would return in a few minutes. The Whale swam the river four or five times for exercise and by that time the Human Steamboat returned. He wore a pair of swimming trunks and had a sheet iron cook stove strapped on his back. Tied around his neck were a dozen packages containing bread, flour, bacon and other eatables. The Whale gazed at his opponent in amazement. "Whar yo' vittles?" demanded the Human Steamboat. "Vittles fo' what?" asked the Whale. "Don't yo' ask me fo' nothin' on the way ovah," warned the Steamboat. "Mah fust stop is New York an' mah next stop is London." SYMPATHYA sympathizer is a fellow that's for you as long as it don't cost anything. Dwight L. Moody was riding in a car one day when it was hailed by a man much the worse for liquor, who presently staggered along the car between two rows of well-dressed people, regardless of tender feet. Murmurs and complaints arose on all sides and demands were heard that the offender should be ejected at once. But amid the storm of abuse one friendly voice was raised. Mr. Moody rose from his seat, saying: "No, no, friends! Let the man sit down and be quiet." The drunken one turned, and, seizing the famous evangelist by the hand, exclaimed: "Thank ye, sir—thank ye! I see you know what it is to be drunk." The man rushed excitedly into the smoking car. "A lady has fainted in the next car! Has anybody got any whiskey?" he asked. Instantly a half-dozen flasks were thrust out to him. Taking the nearest one, he turned the bottle up and took a big drink, then, handing the flask back, said, "Thank you. It always did make me feel sick to see a lady faint." A tramp went to a farmhouse, and sitting down in the front yard began to eat the grass. The housewife's heart went out to him: "Poor man, you must indeed be hungry. Come around to the back." The tramp beamed and winked at the hired man. "There," said the housewife, when the tramp hove in sight, pointing to a circle of green grass, "try that: you will find that grass so much longer." Strengthen me by sympathizing with my strength, not my weakness.—Amos Bronson Alcott. SYNONYMS"I don't believe any two words in the English language are synonymous." "Oh, I don't know. What's the matter with 'raise' and 'lift'?" "There's a big difference. I 'raise' chickens and have a neighbor who has been known to 'lift' them." TABLE MANNERSSee Dining. TACTIt was at the private theatricals, and the young man wished to compliment his hostess, saying: "Madam, you played your part splendidly. It fits you to perfection." "I'm afraid not. A young and pretty woman is needed for that part," said the smiling hostess. "But, madam, you have positively proved the contrary." TAFT, WILLIAM HOWARDWhen Mr. Taft was on his campaigning tour in the west, before he had been elected President, he stopped at the home of an old friend. It was a small house, not well built, and as he walked about in his room the unsubstantial little house fairly shook with his tread. When he got into bed that receptacle, unused to so much weight, gave way, precipitating Taft on the floor. His friend hurried to his door. "What's the matter, Bill?" "Oh, I'm all right, I guess," Taft called out to his friend good-naturedly; "but say, Joe, if you don't find me here in the morning look in the cellar." One morning a few summers ago President Taft, wearing the largest bathing suit known to modern times, threw his substantial form into the cooling waves of Beverly Bay. Shortly afterward one neighbor said to a |
