"That's it, that's it!" cried Isaac—"Rosenbloom."

A MAID (handing up two books to a library assistant)—"Will you change these two books, please, for Mrs. Crawley-Smith?"

ASSISTANT—"Are there any others you wish for?"

MAID—"No. Mrs. Crawley-Smith doesn't mind what they are so long as they have big print and a happy ending."

Hard to Find

LIBRARIAN—"What kind of book do you want—fictional, historical, philosophical—?"

PATRON—"Oh, any kind that H.G. Wells hasn't written."

LIBRARIAN—"We have none!"



BOOKSELLERS AND BOOKSELLING

William Dean Howells, at a dinner in Boston, said of modern American letters:

"The average popular novel shows on the novelist's part an ignorance of his trade which reminds me of a New England clerk.

"In a New England village I entered the main street department-store one afternoon and said to the clerk at the book-counter:

"'Let me have, please, the letters of Charles Lamb.'

"'Post-office right across the street, Mr. Lamb,' said the clerk, with a naive, brisk smile."

"You never can tell," said a traveling salesman. "Now you'd think that a little New England village, chock full of church influence and higher education, would be just the place to sell a book like 'David Harum,' wouldn't you? Well, I know a man who took a stock up there and couldn't unload one of 'em. He'd have been stuck for fair if he hadn't had a brilliant idea and got the town printer to doctor up the title for him. As it was, he managed to unload the whole lot and get out of town before the first purchaser discovered that 'David's Harum' wasn't quite what he had led himself to suppose."

Remember what Roger Mifflin says: "When you sell a man a book, you don't sell him just three ounces of paper and ink and glue—you sell him a whole new life. Love and friendship and humour, and ships at sea by night—there's all heaven and earth in a book."

PENFIELD—"What do you know about Bestseller's new book?"

CRABSHAW—"Nothing at all. I've merely read all the reviews of it."—Life.

MANAGER—"Can't you find some way to make yourself busy around here?"

BOOKISH NEW SALESMAN—"Milton, in his 'Sonnet on Blindness,' says: 'They also serve who only stand and wait.'"

MANAGER—"Yes, but you must keep in mind that Milton's most famous book was about a fellow that lost his job and went to hades."

"What do you think of my library?"

"I was just looking it over and I notice that you were visited by the same book agents who landed me."

"There's a fellow outside with a volume of poems (The title, I think is 'The Beautiful Gnomes'), He says it's the best of poetical tomes." "I'll see him next Christmas," the publisher said.

"There's a gentleman waiting to tell you about A novel of his, which, without any doubt (So he says), will make critics with happiness shout." "Oh, tell him I'm ill or rheumatic—or dead."

"There's also a lady who's just come away From Russia; she says that the Reds are at bay, And she's willing to write it at so much a day." "I've just left for Portugal, China and Mars."

"And then there's a bookseller—looks like a gink— From somewhere out West; Indiana, I think. I'll tell him you're out buying authors a drink." "A bookseller? In with him! Boy, the cigars!"

—Edward Anthony.

CANVASSER—"May I have a few minutes of your time?"

PROSPECT—"Yes, if you will be brief. What can I do for you; I'm a man of few words."

CANVASSER—"Just the man I'm looking for, my specialty is dictionaries."



BOOMERANGS

See Repartee; Retaliation.



BOOSTING

Boost your city, boost your friend, Boost the lodge that you attend. Boost the street on which you're dwelling, Boost the goods that you are selling. Boost the people 'round about you, They can't get along without you, But success will quicker find them, If they know that you're behind them. Boost for every forward movement, Boost for every new improvement, Boost the man for whom you labor, Boost the stranger and the neighbor. Cease to be a chronic knocker, Cease to be a progress blocker. If you'd make your city better Boost it to the final letter.

Boost, and the world boosts with you, Knock, and you're on the shelf, For the world gets sick of the one who'll kick And wishes he'd kick himself. Boost, for your own achievements, Boost for the things sublime, For the one who is found on the topmost round, Is the Booster every time.

It takes no more time to boost a man than it does to knock him—and think how much pleasanter for everybody.



BORROWERS

Mr. Tucker had unexpectedly come face to face with Mr. Cutting, from whom he had frequently borrowed money.

"Er—aw—what was the denomination of the bill you loaned me?" he asked nervously.

"Episcopalian, I guess," said Mr. Cutting. "At any rate, it keeps Lent very well."

"There's a friend in the outer office waiting for you, sir."

"Here, James, take this $10 and keep it till I come back."

ED—"Have you forgotten you owe me five dollars?"

NED—"No, not yet. Give me time, and I will."

Jenkins was always trying to borrow money, and his friends had begun to avoid him.

One morning he tackled an acquaintance in the street before the latter had a chance to escape.

"I say, old man," began Jenkins, "I'm in a terrible fix. I want some money badly, and I haven't the slightest idea where on earth I'm going to get it from."

"Glad to hear it, my boy," returned the other promptly. "I was afraid that you might have an idea you could borrow it from me."

One of the shrewd lairds of Lanarkshire had evidently experienced the difficulties of collecting money lent to friends.

"Laird," a neighbor accosted him one morning, "I need twenty poonds. If ye'll be guid enough to tak ma note, ye'll hae yere money back agin in three months frae the day."

"Nae, Donald," replied the laird, "I canna do it."

"But, laird, ye hae often done the like fer yere friends."

"Nae, mon, I canna obleege ye."

"But, laird—"

"Will ye listen to me, Donald? As soon as I took yere note ye'd draw the twenty poonds, would ye no?"

Donald could not deny that he would.

"I ken ye weel, Donald," the laird continued, "and I ken that in three months ye'd nae be ready to pay me ma money. Then, ye ken, we'd quarrel. But if we're to quarrel, Donald, I'd rather do it noo, when I hae ma twenty poonds in ma pocket."

ASKER—"Could you lend me a V?"

TELLIT—"No, I couldn't."

ASKER—"Have you a friend that would lend me a V?"

TELLIT—"No. I have not a friend to spare."

"Has Owens ever paid back that $10 you loaned him a year ago?"

"Oh, yes; he borrowed $25 more from me last week and only took $15."

An Oriental story tells us of a man who was asked to lend a rope to a neighbor. His reply was that he was in need of the rope just then.

"Shall you need it a long time?" asked the neighbor.

"I think I shall," replied the owner, "as I am going to tie up some sand with it."

"Tie up sand!" exclaimed the would-be borrower. "I do not see how you can do that!"

"Oh, you can do almost anything with a rope when you do not want to lend it," was the reply.

MISS PRITTIKID—"But, father, he is a man you can trust."

HER PA—"Gracious, girl; what I want is one I can borrow from."



BOSTON

MR. PENN—"They say the streets in Boston are frightfully crooked."

MR. HUBB—"They are. Why, do you know, when I first went there I could hardly find my way around."

"That must be embarrassing."

"It is. The first week I was there I wanted to get rid of an old cat we had, and my wife got me to take it to the river a mile away."

"And you lost the cat all right?"

"Lost nothing! I never would have found my way home if I hadn't followed the cat!"

Owing to the war a distinguished Boston man, deprived of his summer trip to Europe, went to the Pacific coast instead. Stopping off at Salt Lake City, he strolled about the city and made the acquaintance of a little Mormon girl.

"I'm from Boston," he said to her. "I suppose you do not know where Boston is?"

"Oh, yes, I do," answered the little girl eagerly. "Our Sunday-school has a missionary there."

The motorist was a stranger in Boston's streets. It was evening. A man approached.

"Sir," said he, "your beacon has ceased its functions."

"What?" gasped the astonished driver.

"Your illuminator, I say, is shrouded in unmitigated oblivion."

"I don't quite—"

"The effulgence of your irradiator has evanesced."

"My dear fellow, I—"

"The transversal ether oscillations in your incandenser have been discontinued."

Just then a little newsboy came over and said:

"Say, mister, yer lamp's out!"

Senator Hoar used to tell with glee of a Southerner just home from New England who said to his friend, "You know those little white round beans?"

"Yes," replied the friend; "the kind we feed to our horses?"

"The very same. Well, do you know, sir, that in Boston the enlightened citizens take those little white round beans, boil them with molasses and I know not what other ingredients, bake them, and then—what do you suppose they do with the beans?"

"They—"

"They eat 'em, sir," interrupted the first Southerner impressively; "bless me, sir, they eat 'em!"

The newly married couple had gone West to live, and as the Christmas season drew nigh she became homesick.

"Even the owls are different here," she sighed.

"And how is that?" he asked.

"Here they say 'To-hoot-to-who,' and in Boston they say 'To-hoot-to-whom.'"

"Lay down, pup. Lay down. That's a good doggie. Lay down, I tell you."

"Mister, you'll have to say, 'Lie down.' He's a Boston terrier."

"Well, the Red Sox won the world's series."

"Yes," said the Boston girl, "we feel very proud of the Red—er—the Red Hose."



BOY SCOUTS

A Boy Scout's Will

I, John W. Bradshaw, pioneer scout of the Wolf Patrol, having attained the age of maturity and realizing that my Boy Scout days are numbered, do hereby give, devise and bequeath my scout assets, tangible and intangible, as follows, to wit:

My uniform, pack and equipment, to Larry O'Toole, the son of my mother's laundress, to be preserved for him until he is old enough to use them;

My scout's manual, axe and compass, to George Washington Jackson, 3d, son of my father's handy man, with the admonition that he organize, if possible, a troop of scouts among the colored boys of the village;

My strap watch with the "see by night" dial, to Roscoe, my small brother, who has wanted it ever since he learned to tell time;

My waterproof match box and hunting knife, to James Fanning, to be held in trust until he can repeat the Scout Oath;

To all boys in general I bequeath the knowledge that the Boy Scout organization teaches obedience, bravery, loyalty, self-respect, kindness, thrift, cleanliness and reverence; that it makes men of its members, and that no boy can possibly go wrong by joining it.



BOYS

"I see they are making shingles out of cement now."

"Then I recall my wish to be a boy again."

One of Theodore Roosevelt's sons, when small, was playing in the Washington streets when a woman recognized him and said she didn't think his father would like his playing with so many "common boys."

"My father says there are no common boys," replied the young Roosevelt.

"He says there are only tall boys and short boys, and good boys and bad boys, and that's all the kinds of boys there are."

Johnny stood beside his mother as she made her selection from the green grocer's cart, and the latter told the boy to take a handful of nuts, but the child shook his head.

"What's the matter, don't you like nuts?" asked the green grocer.

"Yes," replied Johnny.

"Then go ahead and take some."

Johnny hesitated, whereupon the green grocer put a generous handful in Johnny's cap.

After the man had driven on the mother asked: "Why didn't you take the nuts when he told you to?"

Johnny winked as he said: "'Cause his hand was bigger'n mine."

Golly! Let him whistle, mother! He's just boy—that's all. Let him be one while he can: you'll find it pays. Jolly little baby brother! When the shadows fall You'll be wishin' he was back in boyhood days! If you'd been in France and seen All the things that I have seen— Baby faces that will never Baby faces be again— Say! You wouldn't check that whistle For a million iron men!

Lordy! mother, let him holler! He's not hurting anything; And he's carefree as a puppy—just that gay. Dirty shirt, without a collar— Never was a king Happy as that baby yonder, yelling at his play. Little kiddies over there— Solemn eyes and tangled hair— Ten years old? That's still a baby! What he's doin's baby stuff! And the dignity of manhood Will be comin' quick enough!

Let him yell and squeal and whistle, Rollin' in the sand; Let him have the freedom of the whole back lot. Things that hurt like thorn o' thistle Workin' in your hand You'll be wishin' some time that those things were not! When I think of babies—old From the things that can't be told— And then look at him a-dancin', Singin', shoutin', in his joy: Don't put out a hand to stop him! Mother—let him be a boy!

William's uncle was a very tall, fine-looking man, while his father was very small. William admired his uncle, and wished to grow up like him. One day he said to his mother:

"Mama, how did uncle grow so big and tall?"

His mother said: "Well, when uncle was a small boy he was always a very good boy, and tried to do what was right at all times; so God let him grow up big and tall."

William thought this over seriously for a few minutes, then said: "Mama, what kind of a boy was papa?"

See also Office boys.



BRIDES

And men relate that Mrs. Newlywed went to the grocery store to do her morning marketing. And she was determined that the grocer should not take advantage of her youth and inexperience.

"These eggs are dreadfully small," she criticized.

"I know it," he answered. "But that's the kind the farmer brings me. They are just fresh from the country this morning."

"Yes," said the bride, "and that's the trouble with those farmers. They are so anxious to get their eggs sold that they take them off the nest too soon!"

"Hello! Is this you, mother, dear?"

"Yes, Sue? What is it? Something awful must have happened for you to call me up at this—"

"It's not so awful. But, John, dear, hasn't been feeling well and the doctor gave him pills to take every four hours. I've been sitting up to give them to him, and now it's about time for the medicine, and John has fallen asleep. Should I wake him?"

"I wouldn't if I were you. What is he suffering from?"

"Insomnia."

WIFE—"Oh, George, do order a rat-trap to be sent home today."

GEORGE—"But you bought one last week."

WIFE—"Yes, dear, but there's a rat in that."

"What kind of coal do you wish, mum?"

"Dear me, I am so inexperienced in these things. Are there various kinds?"

"Oh, yes. We have egg coal, chestnut—"

"I think I'll take egg coal. We have eggs oftener than we have chestnuts."



BROOKLYN

"Where can I find a map of Brooklyn, old man?"

"There ain't any such thing. No one has ever been able to make one."



BROTHERHOOD

The brotherhood of man begins with the manhood of the brother.

To live is not to live for one's self alone; let us help one another.—Menander.

We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.—Shakespeare.



BURBANK

One day Luther Burbank was walking in his garden when he was accosted by an officious acquaintance who said:

"Well, what are you working on now?"

"Trying to cross an eggplant and milk-weed," said Mr. Burbank.

"And what under heaven do you expect from that?"

Mr. Burbank calmly resumed his walk.

"Custard pie," he said.



BUSINESS

There are two reasons why some people don't mind their own business. One is that they haven't any mind, the other that they haven't any business.

"I'm a very busy man, sir. What is your proposition?"

"I want to make you rich."

"Just so. Leave your recipe with me and I'll look it over later. Just now I'm engaged in closing up a little deal by which I expect to make $3.50 in real money."

A teacher asked those pupils who wanted to go to heaven to raise their hands. All except little Ikey's hands went up. The teacher asked him if he didn't want to go to heaven and Ikey replied that he had heard his father tell his mother that 'Business had all gone to hell' and Ikey wanted to go where the business had gone.

The vicar's appeal had been a most eloquent one, and had even penetrated the depths of Mr. Blackleigh's granite organ. The latter came forward and offered L50 for the fund.

The worthy cleric was overjoyed.

"I don't know your name, sir," he cried; "but I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I thank you! May your business prosper, sir!"

Then there was a solemn hush, and the committee looked askance at their vicar.

"What's the matter?" whispered the clergyman, turning to the chairman.

"Well—er—that donor is an undertaker!"

"There is one respect in which a live business man isn't like a tree."

"What is that?"

"If he remains rooted to the spot, he can't branch out."

During a campaign preceding the election of a Missouri Congressman it was suggested that, since he posed as a good business man, he might be willing to tell just what a good business man is.

"That's easy," he explained. "A good business man is one who can buy goods from a Scotchman and sell them to a Jew—at a profit!"

EDITH—"Dick, dear, your office is in State street, isn't it?"

DICKEY—"Yes; why?"

EDITH—"That's what I told papa. He made such a funny mistake about you yesterday. He said he'd been looking you up in Bradstreet."

FIRST MERCHANT (as reported in the New York "Trade Record")—"How's business?"

SECOND MERCHANT—"Picking up a little. One of our men got a $5,000 order yesterday."

"Go away. I don't believe that."

"Honest he did—I'll show you the cancellation."



BUSINESS ENTERPRISE

The story of the rival boot-makers, which appeared recently, is matched by a correspondent of an English paper with another story, equally old but equally worth repeating. It concerns two rival sausage-makers. Again, they lived on opposite sides of a certain street, and, one day, one of them placed over his shop the legend:

"We sell sausages to the gentry and nobility of the country."

The next day, over the way, appeared the sign:

"We sell sausages to the gentry and nobility of the whole country."

Not to be outdone, the rival put up what he evidently regarded as a final statement, namely:

"We sell sausages to the King."

Next day there appeared over the door of the first sausage-maker the simple expression of loyalty:

"God save the King."

"Biddy," remarked the newly wed Irishman, "go down and feed the pigs."

"Faith and I will not," replied the bride.

"Don't be after contradicting me, Biddy," retorted the husband. "Haven't I just endowed you with all my worldly goods, and if you can not feed your own property, then it's ashamed of you I am."

This was a new point of view, so off Biddy went.

Presently she returned.

"Have you fed the pigs, Biddy?" demanded her husband, sternly.

"Faith, and I have not," she answered. "I have done a great deal better. As they were my property I have sold them, and shall not be bothered with them again."

A business man advertised for an office boy. The next morning there were some fifty boys in line. He was about to begin examining the applicants when his stenographer handed him a card on which was scribbled:

"Don't do anything until you see me. I'm the last kid in line, but I'm telling you I'm there with the goods."

In one of the back streets in Philadelphia is a little jewelry store which is making progress—witness this incident:

"What's the price of nickel alarm clocks?"

"Dwenty-fife cends."

"What! Why, how's that? Last week you told my son they were a dollar."

"Yaw, dat is so. Listen: You are a good frien', so I tol' you. Ven I hat some I sells him for von tollar. Now I ain'd got none I sells him for dwendy-fife cents. Dot makes me a rebutation for cheabness, und I don't lose noddings!"

Commercialomania

PROFITEER—"One million is the price of a gram of radium!"

HIS PARTNER—"And we never thought of trying to sell any!"

An enterprising young florist, in order to increase his trade, displayed this sign in his window:

"We give a packet of flower seeds with every plant."

His competitor across the street promptly sought to meet the competition by placing in his window the following announcement:

"We give the earth with every plant."

A very small but live boy applied to a great merchant for a job.

The great man sized him up with twinkling eyes, for the one situation open needed a bigger parcel of human experience, and asked what position he wanted.

"A chance to grow up in the business, Mister."

"Well, we are more or less being depopulated by the drafts. What is your motto, my son?"

"The same as yours," was the ready answer.

"What do you mean?" asked the puzzled merchant.

"Why, on the door there—'Push.'"

He got the job of keeper of that very door.

The proprietors of two rival livery-stables, situated alongside each other in a busy street, have been having a lively advertising duel lately.

The other week one of them stuck up on his office window a long strip of paper, bearing the words:

"Our horses need no whip to make them go."

This bit of sarcasm naturally caused some amusement at the expense of the rival proprietor, but in less than an hour he neatly turned the tables by pasting the following retort on his own window:

"True. The wind blows them along!"

A group of farmers were complaining of the potato bugs' ravages.

"The pests ate my whole potato crop in two weeks," said one farmer.

"They ate my crop in two days," said a second farmer, "and then they roosted on the trees to see if I'd plant more."

A drummer for a seed house cleared his throat.

"Gents," he said, "all that's very remarkable. Let me tell you, though, what I saw in our own store. I saw a couple of potato bugs examining the books about a week before planting time to see who had bought seed."

UNFORTUNATE PEDESTRIAN (who has been knocked down and dazed)—"Where am I? Where am I?"

ENTERPRISING HAWKER—"'Ere y'are, sir—map of London, one penny."—Punch.

Why He Was Not Promoted

He watched the clock. He was always grumbling. He was never at the office on time. He asked too many questions. His stock excuse was "it isn't necessary." He wasn't ready for the next step. He did not put his heart in his work. He learned nothing from his blunders. He chose his friends among his inferiors. He ruined his ability by half-doing things. He never acted on his own judgment. He did not think it worth while to learn how. He imitated the habits of other men who could stand more than he could. He did not learn that the best part of his salary was not in his pay envelope. He didn't have to. He was the President of the Company.

—G.M.



BUSINESS ETHICS

Johnny was at the grocery store.

"I hear you have a little sister at your house," said the grocer.

"Yes, sir," said Johnny.

"Do you like that?" was queried.

"I wish it was a boy," said Johnny, "so I could play marbles with him, and baseball."

"Well," said the storekeeper, "why don't you exchange your little sister for a boy?"

Johnny reflected for a minute; then he said sorrowfully:

"We can't now; it's too late. We've used her four weeks."

A Priest in Ireland went to Rome, and a number of his parishioners asked him to buy things for them. Some gave him the cash; others did not. When he returned, he brought the articles for those who paid for them in advance. When the others complained, he said, with a wink:

"While I was at sea I got out all the commissions and spread them on the deck. On the papers of those who had given me the coin I put the money. The others had nothing to weight them down. A squall of wind came up. It blew all the unweighted papers into the sea! So the ones who gave me the money got what they asked me to get. The others must ask Father Neptune for theirs."

A New York lawyer had in his employ an office-boy who was addicted to the bad habit of telling in other offices what happened in that of his employer. The lawyer found it necessary to discharge him, but, thinking to restrain him from a similar fault in the future, he counseled the boy, on his departure, in this wise:

"Tommy, you must never hear anything that is said in the office. Do what you are told, but turn a deaf ear to conversation that does not include you."

This struck the boss as such a happy inspiration that, to the end that his stenographer might learn the same lesson, he turned to her and said:

"Miss Jones, did you hear what I said to Tommy?"

"No, sir," she returned, promptly.

The firm of Hansen & Fransen was started in wartime and did very well for a couple of years. But last year things were on the down grade, and the other day, when the two partners had finished making up their none-too-good record for the year, Hansen said: "This would make anyone thoughtful. Now that the good times are over, how about a little honest business?"

"No, thanks," said Fransen. "I never indulge in experiments."

"There are no more enterprising young men. Why, I remember when it was a common thing for a young man to start out as a clerk and in a few years own the business."

"Yes, but cash-registers have been invented since."

The junior partner was harried.

"I shall have to get another typist," he lamented. "Miss Take is continually interrupting my dictation to ask how to spell a word."

"Dear, dear!" said the senior partner. "That seems a great waste of time."

"It's not that I mind," responded the other. "But it's so bad for discipline to keep on saying, 'I don't know'!"

How Business Men Keep Their Spirits Up

"Cancel my order at once," came the telegram to the factory. The owner perpetrated the only new joke in the millennium. His telegram in reply read: "Your order cannot be cancelled at once. You must take your turn."

CUSTOMER—"Gee, this is a rotten cigar!"

SHOPKEEPER—"Well, don't complain. You've only got one of them—I've got ten thousand of the darn things."—Life.

EMPLOYEE—"I don't like your methods of doing business, Mr. Grafton. I resign."

"PRACTICAL" BUSINESS MAN (sneeringly)—"You're a holier-than-thou guy, eh?"

EMPLOYEE—"No; merely a square peg in a crooked hole."—Puck.

A New York lawyer tells of a conversation that occurred in his presence between a bank president and his son who was about to leave for the West, there to engage in business on his own account.

"Son," said the father, "on this, the threshold of your business life, I desire to impress one thought upon your mind: Honesty, ever and always, is the policy that is best."

"Yes, father," said the young man.

"And, by the way," added the gray-beard, "I would advise you to read up a little on corporation law. It will amaze you to discover how many things you can do in a business way and still be honest."

"Dod-burn the luck!" snarled old Gideon Cronk, glaring at the clock. "That confounded bank is closed! That's a thunderin' pretty howdy-do!"

"Well, you've set round the stove here foolin' with the checkerboard all the afternoon and let the bank close on you," returned the landlord of the tavern, "What you kickin' about anyhow?"

"I demand that a public institution shall accommodate its patrons; that's what!"

"Can't you cash your check in the mornin'?"

"I ain't got no check. But if I had one I'd want to cash it when I wanted to, wouldn't I? Well, it's the principle of the thing I'm talkin' about!"



BUSINESS WOMEN

Kate's running a tobacco-shop, Jane draws a wage from carpentry, And Amaryllis' patent mop Defies domestic anarchy; Marie's so capable that she Keeps foundry laborers from strife; She heads a motor company— But where am I to find a wife?

Eradne's made a wondrous top That's famed from Maine to Italy; While Wanda's jointed rabbits hop Through every modern nursery; May has a mock canteen, where tea Is served to sound of drum and fife, Grace reaps from etymology— But where am I to find a wife?

Maud's raising a world-famous crop Where honors tie 'twixt bean and pea; At Daisy's restaurant each chop Would rouse a Muse from apathy; Babette's a broker, who must be Where rumors anent stocks are rife; They're all most useful, I agree— But where am I to find a wife?

I do not know on land or sea, A girl who'd stay at home with me— In any varied walks of life. So how am I to find a wife! Charlotte Becker.



CAMPAIGNS

See Public Speakers.



CANDIDATES

TED—"So you think I'm wasting my time making love to that rich girl?"

NED—"You have about as much chance of winning as a landlord running for office on a dry ticket."

THE HEELER—"Well, I see that Jimpson, them reformers' candidate f'r Mayor, is goin' t' have all his meetin's opened with prayer."

THE BOSS—"Good! That means he knows he's licked!"

"What do you think of the candidates?"

"Well the more I think of them the more pleased I am that only one of them can get in."

See also Politicians.



CANDOR

"How is your wife this morning, Uncle Henry?"

"Well, I dunno. She's failin, dretful slow. I do wish she'd git well, or somethin'."—Puck.

Candor may be considered as a compound of justice and the love of truth.—J. Abercrombie.

Candor is the seal of a noble mind, the ornament and pride of man, the sweetest charm of woman, the scorn of rascals and the rarest virtue of sociability.—Bentsel-Sternau.

'Tis great—'tis manly to disdain disguise, It shows our spirit, or it proves our strength.—Young.

STATISTICIAN (on the platform)—"These are not my figures, ladies and gentlemen; they are the figures of a man who knows what he is talking about."



CAPITAL AND LABOR

WILLIE—"Paw, what is the difference between capital and labor?"

PAW—"Well, the money you lend represents capital, and getting it back represents labor, my son."

If you divorce capital from labor, capital is hoarded, and labor starves.—Daniel Webster.



CARD INDEX

MINING-STOCK PROMOTER—"Where can I hide? The police are coming!"

CHIEF CLERK—"Get into the card-index case. I defy any one to find anything in there."—Judge.



CARELESSNESS

Care may kill people, but don't care kills more.

The editor in charge of the Personal Inquiry column opened his seventieth letter with a groan.

"I have lost three husbands," a lady reader had written, confidentially, "and now have the offer of a fourth. Shall I accept him?"

The editor dipped his pen in the ink. This was the last straw.

"If you've lost three husbands," he wrote, "I should say you are much too careless to be trusted with a fourth."



CATALOGING

One of the best examples of the humors of cataloging comes in Sonnenschein's "Best Books," volume one, page 121, where Prof. Henry Preserved Smith's well-known Old Testament History appears thus:

Smith, Prf. Hy. "Preserved O.T. History."



CAUSE AND EFFECT

It was in one of the social settlements conducted by persons of a philanthropic turn of mind. The young kindergarten teacher, having finished the morning's talk on hygiene and sanitation, wished to make a practical application of the lesson. Turning to one little youngster whose face, hands and whole appearance bespoke the crying need of soap and water, she asked:

"Izzy, when the house gets all mussed up and dirty, what does mother do?"

"We move."

LITTLE BOY—"A penn'orth each of liniment and liquid cement, please."

CHEMIST—"Are they both for the same person, or shall I wrap them up separately?"

LITTLE BOY—"Well, I dunno. Muvver's broke 'er teapot, so she wants the cement, but farver wants the liniment. 'E's what muvver broke 'er teapot on."

An old farmer and his wife drove to market one very wet day when large pools of water had formed in the roadway between the farm and the town. On the return journey he met an old friend.

"And how are you today?" was the friendly greeting.

"Very well, thank you," answered the farmer.

"How is the missus?" continued the friend.

"Fine," answered the farmer. "She's behind there"—jerking his thumb toward the back of the wagon.

"She's not there!" exclaimed the astonished friend.

The old farmer turned and looked over his shoulder. Then he coolly replied:

"Humph! That accounts for the splash."



CAUTION

A small boy, who was sitting next to a very haughty woman in crowded car, kept sniffling in a most annoying way, until the woman could stand it no longer.

"Boy, have you got a handkerchief?" she demanded.

The small boy looked at her for a few seconds, and then in a dignified tone, came the answer.

"Yes, I 'ave, but I don't lend it to strangers."



CHARACTER

Do not tell me the books you have read; let me glean it from your conversation. Do not tell me of the people you associate with; let me observe it by your manners.—Emerson.

HOWELL—"What sort of a fellow is he?"

POWELL—"He can make two lemons grow where only one grew before and then hand them both to you when you are not looking."—Judge.

To those who know thee not, no words can paint! And those who know thee, know all words are faint!—Hannah More.

The Stuff That Counts

The test of a man is the fight he makes, The grit that he daily shows: The way he stands on his feet and takes Fate's numerous bumps and blows, A coward can smile when there's naught to fear, When nothing his progress bars, But it takes a man to stand and cheer While some other fellow stars.

It isn't the victory, after all, But the fight that a brother makes; The man who, driven against the wall, Still stands up erect and takes The blows of fate with his head held high, Bleeding and bruised, and pale. Is the man who'll win in the by and by, For he isn't afraid to fail.

It's the bumps you get and the jolts you get And the shocks that your courage stands. The hours of sorrow and vain regret, That prize that escapes your hands That test your mettle and prove your worth; It isn't the blows you deal, But the blows you take on the good old earth That shows if your stuff is real.

—Robert W. Service.

BORLEIGH—"Some men, you know, are born great, some achieve greatness—"

Miss KEEN—"Exactly! And some just grate upon you."



CHARITY

A tradesman in a certain town put a box outside his shop one day, labeled "For the Blind." A few weeks afterward the box disappeared.

"Halloa! What's happened to your box for the blind?" he was asked.

"Oh, I got enough money," he replied. "And," pointing upward to the new canvas blind that sheltered his shop-window, "there's the blind. Not bad, is it?"

At a Chamber of Commerce dinner a speaker dwelt at great length upon the suffering people of China. He suggested that all present should give something for them. A small dry-goods merchant arose and said:

"You have made for me a feeling already that something should be given. I move that we give three cheers for China."

"I'm sorry that my engagements prevent my attending your charity concert, but I shall be with you in spirit."

"Splendid! And where would you like your spirit to sit? I have tickets here for half a dollar, a dollar and two dollars."

A physician whose sole fee is the consciousness of doing good.



CHEERFULNESS

HE—"There's nothing like cheerfulness. I admire anyone who sings at his work."

SHE—"How you must love a mosquito!"



CHICKEN STEALING

An old negro was charged with chicken-stealing, and the judge said:

"Where's your lawyer, uncle?"

"Ain't got none, jedge."

"But you ought to have one," returned the Court. "I'll assign one to defend you."

"No, sah, no, sah, please don't do dat," begged the defendant.

"Why not?" persisted the judge. "It won't cost you anything. Why don't you want a lawyer?"

"Well, Ah'll tell yo', jedge," said the old man confidentially. "Ah wants ter enj'y dem chickens mahself."

"Is your husband a good provider, Dinah?"

"Yessum, he's a good providah all right, but I'se allus skeered dat niggah's gwine er git caught at it."

"Is dem you-all's chickens?"

"Cohse dey's my-all's chickens. Who's chickens did you 'spose dey was?"

"I wasn' s'posen' nuffin about 'em. But I will say dat it's mighty lucky dat a chicken won' come a runnin' an' a waggin' its tail when its regular owner whistles, same as a dog."

Rastus had caught Sambo red-handed.

"Ah'm gwine hab yo' arrested foh stealin' mah chickens, yo' Sambo Washin'ton-dat's jess what ah'm gwine to do," said Rastus.

"Go ahead, nigguh," retorted Sambo. "Go ahead and hab me arrested. Ah'll mek yo' prove whar yo' got dem chickens yo'seff!"

JUDGE-"I'm going to fine you five dollars for the chickens you stole the last two weeks."

RASTUS-"How'll it be if Ah pays seben-fifty, Jedge? Dat'll pay fob up to an' includin' next Saturday night."—Life.

A negro soldier was brought up before his superior officer, who said: "Sam, you are charged with stealing a chicken from this Frenchwoman's farm. Now, how about it? Have you any witnesses to stand for you?"

"Witnesses?" echoed Sam in surprise. "No, suh, I ain't hab no witnesses. When I goes chicken stealing I never hab no witnesses aroun'."

An old colored uncle was found by the preacher prowling in his barnyard late one night.

"Uncle Calhoun," said the preacher sternly, "it can't be good for your rheumatism to be prowling round here in the rain and cold."

"Doctor's orders, sah," the old man answered.

"Doctor's orders?" asked the preacher. "Did he tell you to go prowling round all night?"

"No, sah, not exactly, sah," said Uncle Cal; "but he done ordered me chicken broth."

In times of peace Smith might have been an author who had drifted into some useful occupation, such as that of a blacksmith, but just now he is cook to the Blankshire officers' mess. Smith sent Murphy into the village to bring home some chickens ordered for the mess.

"Murphy," said Smith, the next day, "when you fetch me chickens again, see that they are fastened up properly. That lot you fetched yesterday all got loose, and tho I scoured the village I only managed to secure ten of them."

"Sh!" said Murphy. "I only brought six."



CHILD LABOR

SOUTHERNER—"Why are you Northerners always harping on the children employed in Southern factories?"

NORTHERNER—"Well, for one thing, it detracts people's attention from the children employed in ours."—Life.



CHILDREN

JOHNNY—"What makes the new baby at your house cry so much, Tommy?"

TOMMY—"It don't cry so very much—and, anyway, if all your teeth were out, your hair off, and your legs so weak you couldn't stand on them, guess you'd feel like crying yourself."

A little girl was entertaining the visitors while her mother added the finishing touches to her toilet. One of the ladies said with a significant look: "Not very p-r-e-t-t-y," spelling the last word.

"No," said the child quickly; "but awful s-m-a-r-t."

It was time for "baby girl" to be in bed, but no amount of coaxing could get her there. At last her father offered to lie on the bed till the "sandman" arrived. Off she went "pick-a-back," and the tired mother leaned back in her chair with a sigh of content, ready for a hard-earned rest.

Ten minutes—twenty—half an hour, and she was wondering when her husband would be down, when all at once she heard a soft, stealthy pit-a-pat. Nearer came the steps, and then a little white-robed form, with a tiny finger on her lip, stood in the doorway.

"Hush, hush, muvver," she said. "I'se got farver to sleep."

Taking a Chance

Junior was in the habit of coming to the table with a dirty face and, of course, had to be sent away to wash.

One time his mother, nearly losing patience, said: "Junior, why do you persist in coming to the table without washing? You know I always send you away."

"Well," said Junior, meekly, "once you forgot."

TOMMY (after a thumping)—"You're awful hard on me, ma."

MOTHER—"That's because you've been very naughty and wicked."

TOMMY—"Well, gee! You should remember that you didn't die young yourself."

"Can your little baby brother talk yet?" a kindly neighbor inquired of a small lad.

"No, he can't talk, and there ain't no reason why he should talk," was the disgusted reply. "What does he want to talk for when all he has to do is yell a while to get everything in the house that's worth having?"

Mrs. Jones was getting dinner ready when in came little Fred with a happy smile on his face.

"What has mamma's darling been doing this morning?" asked his mother.

"I have been playing Postman," replied little Fred.

"Postman?" exclaimed his mother. "How could you do that when you had no letters?"

"Oh, but I had," replied Fred. "I was looking in your trunk up in your room and I found a packet of letters tied 'round with a ribbon, and I posted one under every door in the street."

A little girl who had visited an Episcopalian church for the first time described the service as follows:

"When we went in they were standing up, singing, but pretty soon they sat down and played hide-and-seek."

"Did what?" asked her mother.

"Well, of course no one went and hid, but they all covered up their faces and counted to themselves."

Training the Other Woman's Child

They all sat round in friendly chat Discussing mostly this and that, And a hat.

Until a neighbor's wayward lad Was seen to act in ways quite bad; Oh, 'twas sad!

One thought she knew what must be done With every child beneath the sun— She had none.

And ere her yarn had been quite spun Another's theories were begun— She had one.

The third was not so sure she knew, But thus and so she thought she'd do— She had two.

The next one added, "Let me see; These things work out so differently." She had three.

The fifth drew on her wisdom store And said, "I'd have to think it o'er." She had four.

And then one sighed, "I don't contrive Fixt rules for boys, they're too alive." She had five.

"I know it leaves one in a fix, This straightening of crooked sticks." She had six.

And one declared, "There's no rule giv'n, But do your best and trust to heav'n!" She had sev'n.

—Alice Crowell Hoffman.

Tom, the country six-year-old, presenting himself one day in even more than his usual state of dust and disorder, was asked by his mother if he would not like to be a little city boy, and always be nice and clean in white suits and shoes and stockings. Tom answered scornfully: "They're not children; they're pets."

Up-to-date

KIND STRANGER—"How old is your baby brother, little girl?"

LITTLE GIRL—"He's a this year's model."

The lawyer was sitting at his desk absorbed in the preparation of a brief. So intent 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 a resolute ring in his voice—"I want a divorce from my papa and mamma."

"Well," mused six-year-old Harry, as he was being buttoned into a clean white suit, "this has been an exciting week, hasn't it, mother? Monday we went to the Zoo, Wednesday I lost a tooth, Thursday was Lily's birthday party, Friday I was sick, yesterday I had my hair cut, and now here I am rushing off to Sunday-school."

A little saying from a seven-year-old girl.

NEIGHBOR—"How is your mother this morning?"

LITTLE GIRL—"My mother is at the hospital."

NEIGHBOR—"Why! I did not know your mother was ill."

LITTLE GIRL—"No, it is my aunt who is ill."

NEIGHBOR—"What is the matter with your aunt?"

LITTLE GIRL—"She has a bad headache."

NEIGHBOR—"Why! I did not know any one went to the hospital for a bad headache!"

LITTLE GIRL (looking up quickly with a very interested, bright look on her face)—"That is not the real reason, I think; they are spelling things on me."

A little boy of seven was being scolded in a room adjoining one in which his grandma lay ill. He motioned toward grandma's room and quietly said, "Sh—! it's too much for her; it'll wear her out."

Later, grandma thanked him for his consideration, whereupon he replied, "Don't mention it, gran; that was fifty-fifty—part for you and part for me."

George was hampered by a mother whose idea of godliness was cleanliness. Notwithstanding the frequent baths to which he was condemned George thrived exceedingly. One day a neighbor remarked on his rapid growth.

"Yes," said George, "that's ma's fault—she waters me so much."

See also Boys.



CHOICES

The Czar was recently complimenting a soldier, and asked him if he would rather have 100 rubles or the Iron Cross.

"Would your Majesty deign to tell me the value of the cross?" inquired the private.

"Oh, it is not worth much intrinsically, perhaps two rubles."

"Then, your Majesty, I will take the cross and ninety-eight rubles."

This is an interesting episode, and the most interesting thing about it is that it also happened during the Franco-Prussian War, the Crimean War, the Seven Years' War, and the Marlborough campaigns.

Eyeball or Highball

An old Scotsman was threatened with blindness if he did not give up drinking.

"Now, McTavish," said the doctor, "it's like this: You've either to stop the whisky or lose your eyesight, and you must choose."

"Ay, weel, doctor," said McTavish, "I'm an auld man noo, an' I was thinkin' I ha'e seen about everything worth seein'."

OFFICER-"Hang it! you've brought the wrong boots. Can't you see one is black and the other brown?"

BATMAN-"Sure, but the other pair is just the same."

"Let me see! How does that old saying go: 'Of two evils always choose—?"

"Always choose the one you haven't indulged in before."



CHRISTIAN SCIENTISTS

Dorothy, who is six, has a playmate younger than herself whose parents are Christian Scientists. One day she said:

"Mother, do you know that it is better to be a Christian Scientist than anything else?"

Mother asked "Why?" and Dorothy said:

"Well, Julia has 'splained it to me. If you get cross with another little girl, and you knock her down, if you are a Christian Scientist you won't have to apologize to her, because it won't hurt her any."

A Mental Error

The tram-car was hopelessly overcrowded, and several people, who had achieved the upper deck, were transgressing all regulations by standing.

"Now, then," called out the girl conductor, with emphasis, "you can't stand on top."

"Well," said one literalist, smiling blandly as he peered down the steps, "we are standing, whether we can or not."

The girl answered nothing, but promptly pressed a button. The car jumped forward, and the literalist involuntarily took a seat on the floor.

"There," said the girl apparently in complete good humor, quoting the barrister in a famous play, "you think you can, but you can't."

A Christian Scientist while walking about the plant met a man doubled up with pain.

"My man," he said, "What is the matter?"

"I was out to a banquet last night," moaned the man, "And oh, how I ache!"

"You don't ache," answered the apostle of Mrs. Eddy. "Your pain is imagination. It is all in your mind."

The man looked up in grave astonishment at such a statement and then replied in a most positive manner:

"That's all right; you may think so, but I've got inside information."



CHRISTMAS GIFTS

"Isn't this too absurd?" said the hostess, as she read a letter the maid had handed to her. "I sent Marie Burns the loveliest of bags for Christmas. It had been given to me, I knew, and I had so many I saved it to give away. I suppose we all do those things."

The guest nodded.

"Well, here's her letter of thanks, and listen to what she says:

"'Dear Grace: When I gave you that bag three years ago on Christmas I was so fond of it I could hardly bear to part with it. So I thank you most heartily for remembering me this Christmas with my own gift, which I parted with so unselfishly. Cordially yours, Marie Burns.'"

BILL—"I hear that Jones always saves the Christmas presents people give him and gives them back the following year."

PHIL—"I hope he does that to me. I gave him a quart of brandy in 1918."

Instead of the usual just-before-Christmas letter to Santa Claus, Robbie wrote a prayer letter to God. After enumerating the many and varied presents he wanted very much, he concluded with: "Remember, God, the Lord loveth a cheerful giver."



CHURCH

SCOTT—"What is your notion of an ideal church?"

JACKSON—"One that meddles with neither politics nor religion."

He had been around from church to church trying to find a congenial congregation, and finally he stopped in a little church just as the congregation read with the minister:

"We have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done."

The man dropped into a pew with a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness," he said, "I've found my crowd at last."

HIX—"I understand your Church has sent the minister to Michigan for a month."

DIX—"Yes, that's right."

HIX—"For a vacation, I suppose?"

DIX—"Yes; the congregation decided that we were entitled to one."



CHURCH ATTENDANCE

"What's the idea of free pews?"

"Well, it gives everyone a chance to stay away from church at a minimum expense."

Why They Went to Church

Mrs. Clogg went to find out where the missionary meeting would be held.

Willie Jones went because his mother made him.

His sister went because she had her hair up for the first time.

Sadie Williams went to flirt with the Scott boy.

The Scott boy went to flirt with Sadie Williams.

James B. Jenkins went because he had done so for fourteen years.

The sexton went because he had to pump the organ.

One of the girl ushers in a Flatbush theater had a problem offered her the other evening. She was showing two women to their seats.

"Is the show this evening fit for church women to see?" asked one of the pillaresses of a Flatbush congregation.

"I—I don't know," responded the girl. Then she brightened. "You see," she said, "I don't have no time to go to church."

Mr. Dickson, a colored barber in a large New England town, was shaving one of his customers, a respectable citizen, one morning, when a conversation occurred between them respecting Mr. Dickson's former connection with a colored church in that place:—

"I believe you are connected with the church in Elm Street, are you not, Mr. Dickson?" said his customer.

"No, sah, not at all."

"What! are you not a member of the African Church?"

"Not this year, sah."

"Why did you leave their communion, Mr. Dickson, if I may be permitted to ask?"

"Well, I'll tell you sah," said Mr. Dickson, stropping a concave razor on the palm of his hand, "it war just like dis. I jined the church in good fait; I give ten dollars toward de stated gospill de fus' year, and de church people call me 'Brudder Dickson'; the second year my business not so good, and I gib only five dollars. Dat year the people call me 'Mr. Dickson.' Dis razor hurt you, sah?"

"No, the razor goes tolerably well."

"Well, sah, the third year I feel berry poor; had sickness in my family; and I didn't gib noffin' for preachin'. Well, sah, arter dat dey call me 'dat old nigger Dickson'—and I left 'em."



CHURCH DISCIPLINE

Two Methodist preachers, one white and the other colored, served rural charges in Mississippi which were conterminous. The negro received a considerably larger salary than his white brother, who asked him if it was not his custom to expel his members who failed to pay. "No, boss," he replied, "we would not like to put the gospel on a money basis. We gets them to subscribe, and if they don't pay we turns them out for lying."



CITIZENS

All the talk of hypenated citizenship has evidently had its effect upon a San Francisco youngster, American born, who recently rebelled fiercely when his Italian father whipped him for some misdemeanor.

"But, Tomaso," said one of the family, "your father has a right to whip you when you are bad."

Tomaso's eyes flashed. "I am a citizen of the United States," he declared. "Do you think that I am going to let any foreigner lick me?"



CITY AND COUNTRY

See Country life.



CIVICS

Mrs. Profiteer was very proud of the stunts they were doing at the smart private school to which she had sent her daughter.

"My dear," she said to her friend, "she's learning civics if you please."

"What's civics?" asked the friend.

"Civics? My dear, don't you know? Why, it's the science of interfering in public affairs."



CIVILIZATION

France says it is art. England says it is conquest. America says it is energy. Italy says it is song. Russia says it is work. Japan says it is imitation. Satan says it is his private "movie."

Nations, like individuals, live and die; but civilization cannot die.—Mazzini.

The truest test of civilization is not the census, nor the size of cities, nor the crops; no, but the kind of man the country turns out.—Emerson.



CLASS DISTINCTIONS

Secretary Hoover said at a banquet: "One difference between Europe and America is that over there they like to keep you in your place—stationary, you know, while here we like to see a man rise.

"The European idea is pretty well illustrated by the remarks of Muggins. Muggins on his return from the pub one Saturday night, said to his wife:

"'I believe in manly pride and reasonable ambition, but when Sergeant Todd with his cork leg takes to carryin' a cane besides, it looks to me as if he was tryin' to climb out of the station what Divine Providence sunk him into.'"



CLEANLINESS

"Ma, do I have to wash my face?"

"Certainly!"

"Aw, why can't I just powder it like you do yours?"

General Sherman once stopped at a country home where a tin basin and roller-towel sufficed for the family's ablutions. For two mornings the small boy of the household watched in silence the visitor's toilet. When on the third day the tooth-brush, nail-file, whisk-broom, etc., had been duly used, he asked: "Say, mister, air you always that much trouble to you'se'f?"

See also Baths and bathing.



CLERGY

Some time ago a dinner was given in New York at which a well-known actor, who is something of a freethinker along theological lines, sat at the guest-table. When the hour for starting the feast arrived the toastmaster, a very religious man, discovered that no minister of the Gospel was present, tho several had been invited. In this emergency he turned to the actor and asked him to say grace.

The actor rose, bowed his head, and in the midst of a deep hush said fervently:

"There being no clergyman present, let us thank God!"

Horse-power Misrated

The new minister drove his two-horse rig up to the mountain ranch of one of his congregation. There had been some difference of opinion as to his qualifications. At the gate he was met by a small boy of the family, who was evidently cogitating a matter of deep perplexity.

"Be you our preacher?"

"I am."

The boy eyed first the preacher and then the horses, his brow puckered with growing perplexity.

"That's queer," he drawled. "I hern Dad tell the neighbors you was a one-hoss preacher."

Ting-a-ling-a-ling!

The Rev. George C. Abbitt took down the receiver and placed it to his ear.

"Is that the Dickel Liquor Company?" a woman asked.

Mr. Abbitt recognized the voice as that of one of his parishioners.

"No," he replied in stern reproof; "it is your rector."

Was there a dull thud?

No.

"Indeed," said the lady, quick as a flash, "and pray what are you doing there?"

TEARFUL PARISHIONER (saying farewell to departing minister)—"I don't know what we will do when you are gone, Dr. Blank."

MINISTER—"Oh, the church will soon get a better man than I am."

TEARFUL PARISHIONER—"That's what they all say, but they keep getting worse and worse."

A clergyman was accustomed to use scientific terms which the people did not understand. A deputation waited on him with the request that in the future, whenever he used such terms, he would explain them.

On the following Sunday he used the word "hyperbole," and added:

"As agreed on, I beg to explain this word. Were I to say that at this moment the whole of my congregation are sound asleep, it would be hyperbole; but if I say that one-half are asleep, that is not hyperbole, but the truth."

The next day the deputation again called to say that the minister need not explain technical terms; they'd learn their meaning from a dictionary.

A minister came to the Episcopal church, at Williamsport, Pa., to speak.

"Do you wish to wear a surplice?" asked the rector.

"Surplice!" cried the visitor. "Surplice! I am a Methodist. What do I know about surplices? All I know about is a deficit!"

The Scotch minister rose and cleared his throat, but remained silent, while the congregation awaited the sermon in puzzled expectancy. At last he spoke:

"There's a laddie awa' there in the gallery a-kissin' a lassie," he said. "When he's done ah'll begin."

A clergyman famous for his begging abilities was once catechizing a Sunday-school. When comparing himself as pastor of the church to a shepherd, and his congregation to the sheep, he put the following question to the children: "What does the shepherd do for the sheep?"

To the confusion of the minister a small boy in the front row piped out: "Shears them!"

A small town boasts a female preacher. One day when working in her study she heard a timid knock at her door. Answering the summons she found a bashful young German on the step.

"Good-afternoon," the preacheress remarked. "What do you wish?"

"Do der minister lif in dis house?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yess? Veil, I vant to kit merriet."

"All right; I can marry you."

The lady's hair is beginning to silver and the German glanced at it. Then without comment he jammed his hat on his head and hurried down the walk.

"Will you be back?" she called.

"You gits no chance mit me," he answered. "I don't want you; I haf got me a girl alreaty."

A clergyman was spending the afternoon at a house in the English village where he had preached. After tea he was sitting in the garden with his hostess. Out rushed her little boy holding a rat above his head. "Don't be afraid, mother," he cried; "he's dead. We beat him and bashed him and thumped him until"—catching sight of the clergyman, he added, in a lowered voice—"until God called him home."

Two Irish women in the market place of Cork were talking of the new curate.

"Arrah, Biddy," said one, "did ye hear him last Sunday when he preached on 'Hell'?"

"Faith an' I did that same, and shure he might have been born and reared there, so well did he know all about it."

An Episcopal rector and a Roman Catholic priest had neighboring churches and didn't get along very well. After some time, however, they got together and decided to bury the hatchet.

"For, after all," said he of the Episcopal faith, "we are both doing the Lord's work."

"That is true," said the priest. "Let us therefore do his work to the best of our ability: you in your way," concluded the priest, and then added with a twinkle, "and I in his!"

See also Contribution box; Preaching.



CLOTHING

"I simply can't understand the combination of my wife's clothes."

"What puzzles you?"

"Well, when she wants to hide anything, she pokes it down her neck, but when she wants to get it again it's always in her stocking."

Why They Don't Wear Old Clothes

Father—Because he never can tell when he might be detained at the office on business.

Brother Bill—Because he has got to look his best in case he meets (a) a certain young lady, (b) her father, (c) her mother, (d) any other near relative of (a).

Sister May—Because everybody would know it if she put on one of last year's dresses.

Angela, aged five—Because she has outgrown everything she ever wore.

Tommy, aged seven—Because he has outworn everything he hasn't outgrown.

The Richest Man in Town—Because he can't afford to look shabby.

The Poorest Man in Town—Same reason.

The Mayor—Because he is mayor.

His Chief Rival—Because he hopes to become mayor.

The President of the Ladies' Federation—Because the newspapers are forever sending photographers after her.

Mother—Because there's no fun playing the game alone.

Where are the clothes of yesteryear— And of the year before? Bare is the cupboard—shelf and hook; Barren, the garret's cobwebbed nook; Empty, the darksome drawer! Why should they strangely disappear— All the old clothes of yesteryear?

Where are the clothes of yesteryear? Easy would be the search. Seek them where duty or pleasure calls; Seek them in learning's classic halls— Office or club or church. Rich and lowly, alike, appear Wearing the clothes of yesteryear.

Honor the clothes of yesteryear, Deal with them tenderly; Don them gladly and make them last, Friends of an opulent era past; Stout may their fabric be! Drink long life to their new career— Here's to the clothes of yesteryear!

—Jennie Betts Hartswick.

"I'm afraid these Louis XV heels are much too high for me. Perhaps you have lower ones—say about Louis X would do, I think."

I can not wear the old suit I wore long years ago; It's shiny at the shoulders, My knees and elbows show. But on investigation I Discover this is true: I can not wear the old suit, Nor can I buy a new.

"Is this the hosiery department?" said the voice over the phone.

"Yes," replied the weary saleslady.

"Have you any flesh-colored stockings in stock?" asked the voice.

"Yes," replied the weary saleslady. "Whaddy ya want—pink, yellow, or black?"

They had been poor all their lives. Then one day Uncle Oscar died, leaving Henry a large sum of money. He cashed the check, hurried home, and threw the whole amount in his wife's lap. "At last, my dear," he said, "You will be able to buy yourself some decent clothes."

"I'll do nothing of the sort," sezz she. "I'll get the same kind that other women wear."



CLUBS

"A lady, you know, rang up the club the other evening.

"'Please call my husband to—,' she began, but she was interrupted.

"'Your husband ain't here, ma'am,' said the attendant, blandly.

"'My goodness gracious me!' the lady exclaimed, 'You're mighty sure about it, aren't you? And I haven't told you my name yet, either. Look here, mister, how do you know my husband isn't at the club when I haven't told you my name?'

"The attendant answered more blandly than ever:

"'Nobody's husband ain't never at the club, ma'am.'"



COAL

There is a New York scientist who is greatly interested in coal mining. He decided to subscribe to a press-clipping bureau, to get every new slant on coal. He said to the clipping bureau: "I want everything you can find about coal." The first clipping he got was an article about a man who was suing his wife for a separation because she hit him on the head with a lump of coal.



COFFEE

Senator Stone, of Missouri, is a lover of coffee, and unless it is both strong and good the waiter at restaurant or hotel soon hears from him. Recently he took a little trip to Baton Rouge and went into a restaurant for dinner. On raising his cup to his lips he made a wry face and then beckoned to the proprietor.

"What do you call this stuff?" he asked.

"Coffee," meekly replied the man, somewhat surprised.

"Coffee!" repeated Stone with scorn. "I could put a coffee bean into my mouth, dive into the Mississippi River from the end of this street, swim 'way up to Vicksburg, and I'll guarantee that any one could bail up much better coffee than this over the entire route!"



COLLECTING OF ACCOUNTS

DRESSMAKER—"I have come to see you sir, about Mrs. Brown's account."

BROWN (angrily)—"Why don't you see my wife about it and not come to me?"

DRESSMAKER—"I have, several times, but every time I call she does nothing but order a new gown."

A young Swede in South Dakota, who had been sent out to collect bills for the general store, returned with this report:

"Yon Brown, he say he pay when he sell his wheat; Ole Oleson, he say he pay when he sell his oats; and Yon Yonson, he say he pay in Yanuary."

"In January?" repeated the proprietor, surprised. "Why, he never set a date before. Are you sure he said in January?"

"Veil, Ay tank it bane Yanuary. He say it bane dam cold day when you get your money."

During an epidemic in a small Southern town every infected house was put under quarantine. After the disease had been checked, an old negress protested vigorously when the health officers started to take down the sign on her house.

"Why, Auntie," exclaimed the officer, "why don't you want me to take it down?"

"Well, sah," she answered, "dey ain' be'n a bill collectah neah dis house sence dat sign went up. You-all let it alone!"

Little Andrew was playing in the yard, in which there is a coop for his pigeons. All pigeons were inside with the exception of one which was walking up and down in front of the door. Andrew ran up to his mother in great excitement and said:

"Mamma, is that one a collector?"

Whereat his mother asked him why. Then Andrew said:

"Well, he can't get in."

"Hello Millett," called out a neighbor one morning "I saw you starting away yesterday morning very early on your fishing trip. Did you have any luck?"

"Great!" was the reply. "While I was away three collectors called."

"I wish to see Mr. Jones about a bill."

"He's away on vacation, sir."

"Did he leave any address?"

"Yes, sir. For bill collectors it's 'Somewhere in America.'"

MERCHANT: "They say you are very successful with old bills and seldom have to dun them twice. What's the secret?"

BAD-BILL COLLECTOR: "I am afflicted with insomnia and do my collecting nights."

A Texas tradesman has this pertinent sign in a conspicuous place in his store:

Man is made of dust.

Dust Settles.

Be a Man!

"Norah," said Mrs. Dedbeat, from the top of the stairs, "tell that man who is ringing the doorbell that I am not receiving today!"

The servant girl went to the door and said something to the man; then she stepped into the hall and called upstairs:

"I told him you were not receivin' today, ma'am! But he says he ain't deliverin', he's collectin'!"

He was running a small provision-store in a newly developed district, and the big wholesale dealers found him very backward in payment of his accounts.

They sent him letter after letter, each more politely threatening than the last. Finally they sent their representative down to give him a sporting chance.

"Now," said the caller, "we must have a settlement. Why haven't you sent us anything? Are things going badly?"

"No. Everything's going splendidly. You needn't worry. My bankers will guarantee me all right."

"Then why haven't you paid up?"

"Well, you see, those threatening letters of yours were so well done that I've been copying them and sending them round to a few customers of my own who won't pay up, and I've collected nearly all outstanding debts. I was only holding back because I felt sure there must be a final letter, and I wanted to get the series complete."

Probably Meant Florida

"So the doctor told you to go to a warmer climate. What was the nature of the trouble you consulted him about?"

"I went there to collect a bill."

"Why don't you pay your bills?" angrily demanded the collector, after his tenth fruitless call.

"What?" exclaimed Mr. Dedbete. "Do you imagine I could be so hard-hearted as to deprive you poor fellows of your employment?"

ARTIST—"I'm awfully sorry I can't pay you this month."

LANDLORD—"But that's what you said last month."

ARTIST—"You see I keep my word; you can have confidence in me."

See also Bills; Debts.



COLLECTION BOX

See Contribution box.



COLLEGE GRADUATES

"There's a college graduate at the door. He wants a job."

"What can he do?" asked the self-made man.

"He says he's pretty good in Greek."

"Umph! Tell him I haven't sold $1 worth of goods to Greece since I've been in the export business."



COLLEGE STUDENTS

"I am delighted to meet you," said the father of the college student, shaking hands warmly with the professor. "My son took algebra from you last year, you know."

"Pardon me," said the professor, "he was exposed to it, but he did not take it."

RUPERT—"What did you do with the cuffs I left on the table last night?"

ROLAND—"They were so soiled I sent them to the laundry."

RUPERT—"Ye gods, the entire history of England was on them."

'07—"You are always behind in your studies."

'23—"Well, you see, sir, it gives me a chance to pursue them."

STUDENT (writing home)—"How do you spell 'financially'?"

OTHER—"F-i-n-a-n-c-i-a-l-l-y, and there are two R's in 'embarrassed.'"—Harper's.

See also Degrees.



COLLEGES AND UNIVERSITIES

SOPH.—"How does it happen you came to Harvard? I thought your father was a Yale man."

FRESH.—"He was. He wanted me to go to Yale; I wanted to go to Princeton. We had an argument and he finally told me to go to H——."—Yale Record.

On The Aristocracy of Harvard

I come from good old Boston, The home of the bean and the cod; Where the Cabots speak only to Lowells, And the Lowells speak only to God!

—Dr. Samuel G. Bushnell.

On the Democracy of Yale

Here's to the town of New Haven, The home of the truth and the light; Where God speaks to Jones in the very same tones, That he uses with Hadley and Dwight!

—Dean Jones.



COMMITTEE

BOBBIE—"What is a committee, pa?"

FATHER—"A committee, my son, is something which takes a week to do what one good man can do in an hour."



COMMON SENSE

A farmer, just arrived in town, was walking across the street and happened to notice a sign on a hardware store, "Cast Iron Sinks."

He stood for a minute and then said, "Any fool knows that."

Common sense is in spite of, not because of age.—Lord Thurlow.

Common sense is instinct, and enough of it is genius.—H. W. Shaw.



COMMUNISM

We were talking to our friend O'Doul about politics, and he was calm enough until somebody announced himself "a violent radical."

"I can stand for Socialism—a little of it, anyway," said O'Doul fiercely; "but it's this Communism that makes me mad; I'm not going to stand for any form of government under which a man can come up to me and say, 'O'Doul, there are too many men just like you in New York. You go out and live in Columbus.'"

A—"Your communism is stupid. If everything were divided today, in a very short time your portion would be gone. What then?"

B—"Divide again!"



COMMUTERS

Stationed at the Mont Sec observation post, near St. Mihiel, a French soldier was showing the scenery to a doughboy.

"I have been in this section ever since the beginning of the war," he said. "Back there is Commercy, where my home is."

"I suppose you get home once in a while?" said the doughboy.

"Nearly every week," was the response.

"Hell," said the doughboy, thinking of his own home in South Bend, Ind. Then, calling to a comrade, he added: "Hey, buddie; here's a guy what commutes to the war!"

FIRST COMMUTER—"Do you have to take such an early train as this?"

SECOND COMMUTER—"No. But I find the earlier the train the less everybody cares to talk."



COMPARISONS

MR. JOHNSON (indignantly)—"Now see here, yo'! Dat's twice yo' called me Jackson! If yo' don't know no moah dan to confuse me wif dat wall-eyed, knock-kneed, bandy-legged, fiat-footed, paraletic nigger Jackson, we'll call dis game right here!"

MR. PERSIMMONS—"'Scuse me, Johnson-'scuse me! Don't draw a razor on me like Jackson did de other night wen I called him Johnson. Yo' two fellahs ain't such a much alike 'cept in youah looks an general characteristics. Dat's all."

It is said that Mr. Asquith has only once been known to laugh outright when on a public platform. The record-making occasion was at a political meeting in Scotland. The Premier was constantly being interrupted, one of the chief hecklers being a farmer wearing a large straw hat. Suddenly from someone in the hall came a very personal remark concerning Mr. Asquith.

"Who said that?" he demanded, quickly.

There was sudden silence. Then a man in the audience stood up, and, pointing to the farmer with the straw hat, shouted:

"It was him wi' the coo's breakfast on his head!"

The reply was altogether too much for Mr. Asquith, and he had to join in the general roar of laughter.



COMPENSATION

"There's a bright side to everything."

"To those high food prices?"

"Certainly. Think of the cases of indigestion they have cured."

A little girl who had been out walking with her aunt heard the latter complaining that her feet were tired. "My feet get tired too, when I go out walking," said the small maiden, "but I always think what a nice ride my stomach has been having."

"Anyhow, there's one advantage in having a wooden leg," said the veteran.

"What's that?" asked his friend.

"You can hold your socks up with thumb-tacks."



COMPETITION

The clergyman's eloquence may have been at fault, still he felt annoyed to find that an old gentleman fell asleep during the sermon on two consecutive Sundays. So, after service on the second week, he told the boy who accompanied the sleeper that he wished to speak to him in the vestry.

"My boy," said the minister, when they were closeted together, "who is that elderly gentleman you attend church with?"

"Grandpa," was the reply.

"Well," said the clergyman, "if you will only keep him awake during my sermon, I'll give you a nickel each week."

The boy fell in with the arrangement, and for the next two weeks the old gentleman listened attentively to the sermon. The third week, however, found him soundly asleep.

The vexed clergyman sent for the boy and said: "I am very angry with you. Your grandpa was asleep again today. Didn't I promise you a nickel a week to keep him awake?"

"Yes," replied the boy, "but grandpa now gives me a dime not to disturb him."

"Yes," said the specialist, as he stood at the bedside of the sick purchasing agent, "I can cure you."

"What will it cost?" asked the sick man, faintly.

"Ninety-five dollars."

"You'll have to shade your price a little," replied the purchasing agent, "I have a better bid from the undertaker."



COMPLIMENTS

A rector in South London was visiting one of his poorer parishioners, an old woman, afflicted with deafness. She expressed her great regret at not being able to hear his sermons. Desiring to be sympathetic and to say something consoling, he replied, with unnecessary self-depreciation, "You don't miss much."

"So they tell me," was the disconcerting reply.

"You don't seem to enjoy being referred to as a good loser."

"No," replied Cactus Joe. "In the course of time a good loser comes to be regarded merely as a poor performer."

See also Tact.



CONCEIT

The small girl was at the table drawing, and her mother asked her what the picture was to be.

"God," replied the child simply.

"But you can't draw God," protested the mother, "because you have never seen Him; no one has ever seen Him and no one knows what He looks like."

The small girl licked her pencil and put in another touch. "They'll all know when I finish this," she said.

A young lady once asked Oscar Wilde to give her a list of the one hundred greatest books ever written.

"Impossible, my dear," replied Oscar; "I have only written five."



CONDUCT

I Resolve

To keep my health To do my work To live To see to it I grow and gain and give Never to look behind me for an hour To wait in weakness and to walk in power; But always fronting onward to the light Always and always facing toward the right Robbed, starved, defeated, fallen wide astray On with what strength I have Back to the Way.

—Charlotte Perkins Stetson.

Envoy

If I am happy, and you, And there are things to do, It seems to be the reason Of this world!

Be Noble! and the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine own; Then wilt thou see it gleam in many eyes Then will pure light around thy path be shed And thou wilt nevermore be sad and lone.

—Lowell.

"To every man there openeth A Way and Ways, and a Way, And the High soul climbs the High Way And the Low soul gropes the Low, And in between on the misty flats, The rest drift to and fro. But to every man there openeth A High Way, and a Low, And every man decideth The Way his soul shall go."

—John Oxenham.

Half the joy of life is in "letting go" every once in a while, and, if you let go twice every once in awhile, it seems that you have just that much more fun.

When days go wrong, remember they aren't self-starters.

I often think that anyone can face A crisis or a crushing tragedy With calm, exalted courage, but the place That needs the greatest strength and energy Is daily grind: to manage just to laugh At all the petty hazards of each day— To smile, whilst sifting life's wheat from its chaff And strive to see just good along the way.

—Helba Baker.

Promise Yourself

To be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.

To talk health, happiness and prosperity to every person you meet.

To make all your friends feel that there is something in them.

To look on the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.

To think only of the best, to work only for the best, and to expect only the best.

To be just as enthusiastic about success of others as you are about your own.

To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.

To wear a cheerful countenance at all times and to have a smile ready for every living creature you meet.

To give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticise others.

To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

To think well of yourself and to proclaim this fact to the world—not in loud words, but in great deeds.

To live in the faith that the world is on your side so long as you are true to the best that is in you.



CONFESSIONS

Open Confession is Good for the Soul

Surgeon's instrument case lost in some saloon. Reward. Dr. H.E. Lebel. 1227 Hennepin.

A certain rector, just before the service, was called to the vestibule to meet a couple who wanted to be married. He explained that there wasn't time for the ceremony then. "But," said he, "if you will be seated I will give you an opportunity at the end of the service to come forward, and I will then perform the ceremony."

The couple agreed, and at the proper moment the clergyman said: "Will those who wish to be united in the holy bond of matrimony please come forward?"

Thereupon thirteen women and one man proceeded to the altar.

The Irish lad and the Yiddish boy were engaged in verbal combat. Finally the subject came down to their respective churches.

"I guess I know that Father Harrity knows more than your Rabbi," the little Irish boy insisted.

"Shure, he does; vy not?" replied the Jewish boy. "You tell him everything."



CONFIDENCES

A man got in a cab at a Southern railway station and said: "Drive me to a haberdasher's."

"Yaas, suh," said the driver, whipped up his horse and drove a block; then he leaned over to address his passenger: "'Scuse me, boss; whar d' you say you wanter go?"

"To a haberdasher's."

"Yaas, suh; yaas, suh." After another block there was the same performance: "'Scuse me, boss, but whar d' you say you wanter go?"

"To a haberdasher's," was the somewhat impatient reply.

Then came the final appeal: "Now, look-a-here, boss, I be'n drivin' in dis town twenty year', an' I ain't never give nobody away yit. Now, you jes tell dis nigger whar't is you wanter go."



CONGRESS

"How is the law made?" asked the instructor in United States history.

"Oh," replied the maiden, cheerfully, "the Senate has to ratify it; and then the President has to—has to veto it; and then the House of Representatives has to"—she hesitated for a moment, and knit her pretty forehead.

"Oh, yes! I remember now," she said. "The House of Representatives has to adjourn until the next session!"

"Has this bill been endorsed by the Prohibition party?"

"Yes."

"And met with the approval of the I.W.W. and the Bolsheviki?"

"Yes."

"And O.K.'d by Mr. Hearst?"

"Certainly."

"Then instruct Congress to pass it as another great measure restoring the rights of the people."



CONSCIENCE

Wilson and Wilton were discussing the moralities when the first put this question: "Well, what is conscience, anyhow?"

"Conscience," said Wilton, who prides himself upon being a bit of a pessimist, "is the thing we always believe should bother the other fellow."

A young fellow who was the crack sprinter of his town—somewhere in the South—was unfortunate enough to have a very dilatory laundress. One evening, when he was out for a practice run in his rather airy and abbreviated track costume, he chanced to dash past the house of that dusky lady, who at the time was a couple of weeks in arrears with his washing.

He had scarcely reached home again when the bell rang furiously and an excited voice was wafted in from the porch:

"Foh de Lawd's sake! won't you-all tell Marse Bob please not to go out no moh till I kin git his clo'es round to him?"

Many a man feels that he could be quite comfortable if his conscience would meet him halfway.



CONSCRIPTION

He was a homesick colored soldier in a labor battalion, and he saw no chance of a discharge.

"De nex' wah dey has," he announced to a friend, "dey's two men dat ain't goin'—me an' de man dey sends to git me."

A negro registrant from a farming district was called to service. Arriving in town, he found the local board had moved to another street. At the new address another negro languished in the doorway.

"Is dis whar de redemtion bo'd is at?" queried the newcomer.

"Sho' is," answered the second. "But de blessed redeemer done gone out fo' lunch."

Zeb Smith was a drafted man. He saw heavy fighting in France and was wounded. On his return to the United States he was interviewed by one whose duty it was to interest himself in the men.

"Smith, what do you intend to do when you are released from the service?"

"Get me some dependents," was the instantaneous reply.

The called-up one volubly explained that there was no need in his case for a medical examination.

"I'm fit and I want to fight. I want to go over on the first boat. I want to go right into the front trenches, but I want to have a hospital close, so that if I get hit no time will be wasted in taking me where I can get mended right away, so that I can get back to fighting without losing a minute. Pass me in, doctor. Don't waste any time on me. I want to fight, and keep fighting!"

The doctor, however, insisted, and, when he got through, reported a perfect physical specimen.

"You don't find nothing wrong with me, doctor?"

"Nothing."

"But, doctor, don't you think I'm a bit crazy?"

See also Judgment.



CONSERVATIVES

See Radicals.



CONSOLATION

FIRST WALL STREET BROKER—"Anything to do today?"

SECOND WALL STREET BROKER—"Certainly not."

"Come to a funeral with me. It will cheer you up a bit."—Life.



CONTENTMENT

Contentment is merely the knack of not wanting the things we know we can't have.

Contentment consisteth not in adding more fuel, but in taking away some fire.—Fuller.

Contentment travels rarely with fortune; but follows virtue even in misfortune.—Leszczinski.

To be content with what we possess is the greatest and most secure of riches.—Cicero.



CONTRIBUTION BOX

"I can na' get ower it," a Scottish farmer remarked to his wife. "I put a twa-shillin' piece in the plate at the kirk this morning instead o' ma usual penny."

The beadle had noticed the mistake, and in silence he allowed the farmer to miss the plate for twenty-three consecutive Sundays.

On the twenty-fourth Sunday the farmer again ignored the plate, but the old beadle stretched the ladle in front of him and, in a loud, tragic whisper, hoarsely said:

"Your time's up noo, Sandy."

An old colored minister announced that he had invented an automatic collection basket, which would be passed around by the deacons of his church. "It is so arranged, my brethren," said he, "dat if you drop in a quatah or half dollah it falls noiselessly on a red plush cushion; if you drop a nickel it will ring a bell dat can be distinctly heard by de entiah congregation; but if you let fall a suspender button, my brethren, it will fiah off a pistol."

"Father," said the minister's son, "my teacher says that 'collect' and 'congregate' mean the same thing. Do they?"

"Perhaps they do, my son," said the venerable clergyman; "but you may tell your teacher that there is a vast difference between a congregation and a collection."

"My sermon on thrift made a tremendous impression on the congregation."

"How do you know?"

"I could tell when I counted the collection."

"Rastus, how is it you have given up going to church?" asked Pastor Brown.

"Well, sah," replied Rastus. "it's dis way. I likes to take an active part, an' I used to pass de collection-basket, but dey's give de job to Brothah Green, who jest returned from ovah thai-ah."

"In recognition of his heroic service, I suppose?"

"No, sah. I reckon he got dat job in reco'nition o' his having lost one o' his hands."

BESS—"Somebody passed a counterfeit dime on Bob a year ago, and he hasn't been able to get rid of it since."

MAIDEN AUNT (horrified)—"What! Does that young man never go to church, then?"

A Scotch minister in need of funds thus conveyed his intentions to his congregation:

"Weel, friends, the kirk is urgently in need of siller, and as we have failed to get money honestly we will have to see what a bazaar can do for us."

It is said that the farthing was coined in response to a demand from Scotchmen for a satisfactory coin for the collection box. It's value is a fourth of a cent.

A minister was on his vacation in the country. A neighboring church heard of it and asked him to preach while their own pastor was away. He consented and, on the Sunday when he was to supply, he and his boy walked across the fields to the church. In the vestibule there was a box for voluntary contributions and the minister after feeling around in his pocket found fifty cents which he dropped in. After the sermon, the elders came up to express their appreciation for his fine sermon and then remembered they hadn't yet paid him. They generously decided to give him all the collection for that Sunday and on opening the contribution box they found exactly fifty cents. The minister accepted it and went on his way home. After walking some distance the boy noticed his father was very silent evidently pondering over something, so he said, "Father, how much did you get?"

The father replied "Fifty cents, son."

"Why father, that's just what you put in, wasn't it?" asked the boy.

"Yes, son."

Both walked along in silence for some distance further, then the boy spoke up and said: "Father, if you had put more in, you'd have got more out, wouldn't you?"

Tight, who had money to burn but was apparently afraid of fire, happened in a church one day when a collection was being taken for foreign missions. Eventually the collector reached Tight, but Tight didn't make any motions like producing beautiful coin.

"Pardon me," said the collector, placing the box before Tight, "we are taking a collection for foreign missions. Wouldn't you like to add a little to the amount?"

"No, sir!" was the decisive rejoinder of Tight. "I never give to foreign missions."

"Then take a little out of the box," softly responded the collector. "The money is for the benefit of the heathen."

A church in Kansas was raising funds for a new church and the minister was calling on members for subscriptions. One of the pillars of the church rose and said: "I subscribe five dollars." Just at that instant a piece of plaster fell on his head. Half stunned he mumbled "f-f-five hundred dollars" and the minister prayed "Oh Lord, hit him again."



CONUNDRUMS

A party of young people were amusing themselves by guessing the answers to conundrums. One of them asked, "Why is the pancake like the sun?"

"Because it rises in der yeast and sets behind der vest," was the answer given by a brilliant young Swede.

They were discussing that joke about getting down off an elephant.

"How do you get down?" asked the jokesmith for the fourth time.

"You climb down."

"Wrong!"

"You grease his sides and slide down."

"Wrong!!"

"You take a ladder and get down."

"Wrong!!!"

"Well, you take the trunk line down."

"No, not quite. You don't get down off an elephant; you get it off a goose."



COOKERY

"So your husband kept house and cooked his own meals while you were away. Did he enjoy it?"

"He says he did; but I notice that the parrot has learned to swear during my absence."

"My husband has had indigestion for the past month."

"Really! I'm so sorry! I had no idea you were without a cook."

OFFICER—"Is that soup ready, Jones?"

OFFICER'S SERVANT—"No, sir, the stove went out, sir."

OFFICER—"Went out! Then why don't you light it again?"

OFFICER'S SERVANT—"'Cos it went out by the roof, sir."

"How do you like my pound cake, dearie?" asked Mrs. Newlywed.

"Why, er-er-er," stammered Mr. Newlywed, "I don't think you pounded it enough, did you?"

She had not been married long. She made a pie for dinner. During the meal she hesitatingly remarked to her husband:

"I think I left out something and the pie isn't very good."

After taking a bite he sadly replied:

"You are wrong, my dear! Nothing you left out could make a pie taste like this. It's something you put in."



COOKS

See Servants



COOPERATION

It is not the guns or armament Or the money they can pay; It's the close cooperation That makes them win the day; It's not the individual Or the army as a whole But the everlasting team work Of every blooming soul.

—Kipling.



CORPULENCE

A very fat old lady who got stuck in the door of a car could get neither out nor in.