"'William,' said I, 'your face is fairly clean, but how did you get such dirty hands?"

"'Washin' me face,' said William."

A woman in one of the factory towns of Massachusetts recently agreed to take charge of a little girl while her mother, a seamstress, went to another town for a day's work.

The woman with whom the child had been left endeavored to keep her contented, and among other things gave her a candy dog, with which she played happily all day.

At night the dog had disappeared, and the woman inquired whether it had been lost.

"No, it ain't lost," answered the little girl. "I kept it 'most all day, but it got so dirty that I was ashamed to look at it; so I et it."—Fenimore Martin.

"How old are you?" once asked Whistler of a London newsboy. "Seven," was the reply. Whistler insisted that he must be older than that, and turning to his friend he remarked: "I don't think he could get as dirty as that in seven years, do you?"

If dirt was trumps, what hands you would hold!—Charles Lamb.



CLERGY

"Now, children," said the visiting minister who had been asked to question the Sunday-school, "with what did Samson arm himself to fight against the Philistines?"

None of the children could tell him.

"Oh, yes, you know!" he said, and to help them he tapped his jaw with one finger. "What is this?" he asked.

This jogged their memories, and the class cried in chorus: "The jawbone of an ass."

All work and no plagiarism makes a dull parson.

Bishop Doane of Albany was at one time rector of an Episcopal church in Hartford, and Mark Twain, who occasionally attended his services, played a joke upon him, one Sunday.

"Dr. Doane," he said at the end of the service, "I enjoyed your sermon this morning. I welcomed it like on old friend. I have, you know, a book at home containing every word of it."

"You have not," said Dr. Doane.

"I have so."

"Well, send that book to me. I'd like to see it."

"I'll send it," the humorist replied. Next morning he sent an unabridged dictionary to the rector.

The four-year-old daughter of a clergyman was ailing one night and was put to bed early. As her mother was about to leave her she called her back.

"Mamma," she said, "I want to see my papa."

"No, dear," her mother replied, "your papa is busy and must not be disturbed."

"But, mamma," the child persisted, "I want to see my papa."

As before, the mother replied: "No, your papa must not be disturbed."

But the little one came back with a clincher:

"Mamma," she declared solemnly, "I am a sick woman, and I want to see my minister."

PROFESSOR—"Now, Mr. Jones, assuming you were called to attend a patient who had swallowed a coin, what would be your method of procedure?"

YOUNG MEDICO—"I'd send for a preacher, sir. They'll get money out of anyone."

Archbishop Ryan was once accosted on the streets of Baltimore by a man who knew the archbishop's face, but could not quite place it.

"Now, where in hell have I seen you?" he asked perplexedly.

"From where in hell do you come, sir?"

A Duluth pastor makes it a point to welcome any strangers cordially, and one evening, after the completion of the service, he hurried down the aisle to station himself at the door.

He noticed a Swedish girl, evidently a servant, so he welcomed her to the church, and expressed the hope that she would be a regular attendant. Finally he said if she would be at home some evening during the week he would call.

"T'ank you," she murmured bashfully, "but ay have a fella."

A minister of a fashionable church in Newark had always left the greeting of strangers to be attended to by the ushers, until he read the newspaper articles in reference to the matter.

"Suppose a reporter should visit our church?" said his wife.

"Wouldn't it be awful?"

"It would," the minister admitted.

The following Sunday evening he noticed a plainly dressed woman in one of the free pews. She sat alone and was clearly not a member of the flock. After the benediction the minister hastened and intercepted her at the door.

"How do you do?" he said, offering his hand, "I am very glad to have you with us."

"Thank you," replied the young woman.

"I hope we may see you often in our church home," he went on. "We are always glad to welcome new faces."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you live in this parish?" he asked.

The girl looked blank.

"If you will give me your address my wife and I will call on you some evening."

"You wouldn't need to go far, sir," said the young woman, "I'm your cook!"

Bishop Goodsell, of the Methodist Episcopal church, weighs over two hundred pounds. It was with mingled emotions, therefore that he read the following in Zion's Herald some time ago:

"The announcement that our New England bishop, Daniel A. Goodsell, has promised to preach at the Willimantic camp meeting, will give great pleasure to the hosts of Israel who are looking forward to that feast of fat things."

It is a standing rule of a company whose boats ply the Great Lakes that clergymen and Indians may travel on its boats for half-fare. A short time ago an agent of the company was approached by an Indian preacher from Canada, who asked for free transportation on the ground that he was entitled to one-half rebate because he was an Indian, and the other half because he was a clergyman.—Elgin Burroughs.

Booker Washington, as all the world knows, believes that the salvation of his race lies in industry. Thus, if a young man wants to be a clergyman, he will meet with but little encouragement from the head of Tuskegee; but if he wants to be a blacksmith or a bricklayer, his welcome is warm and hearty.

Dr. Washington, in a recent address in Chicago, said:

"The world is overfull of preachers and when an aspirant for the pulpit comes to me, I am inclined to tell him about the old uncle working in the cotton field who said:

"'De cotton am so grassy, de work am so hard, and de sun am so hot, Ah 'clare to goodness Ah believe dis darkey am called to preach.'"

On one occasion the minister delivered a sermon of but ten minutes' duration—a most unusual thing for him.

Upon the conclusion of his remarks he added: "I regret to inform you, brethren, that my dog, who appears to be peculiarly fond of paper, this morning ate that portion of my sermon that I have not delivered. Let us pray."

After the service the clergyman was met at the door by a man who as a rule, attended divine service in another parish. Shaking the good man by the hand he said:

"Doctor, I should like to know whether that dog of yours has any pups. If so I want to get one to give to my minister."

Recipe for a parson:

To a cupful of negative goodness Add the pleasure of giving advice. Sift in a peck of dry sermons, And flavor with brimstone or ice.

—Life.

A pompous Bishop of Oxford was once stopped on a London street by a ragged urchin.

"Well, my little man, and what can I do for you?" inquired the churchman.

"The time o' day, please, your lordship."

With considerable difficulty the portly bishop extracted his timepiece.

"It is exactly half past five, my lad."

"Well," said the boy, setting his feet for a good start, "at 'alf past six you go to 'ell!"—and he was off like a flash and around the corner. The bishop, flushed and furious, his watch dangling from its chain, floundered wildly after him. But as he rounded the corner he ran plump into the outstretched arms of the venerable Bishop of London.

"Oxford, Oxford," remonstrated that surprised dignitary, "why this unseemly haste?"

Puffing, blowing, spluttering, the outraged Bishop gasped out:

"That young ragamuffin—I told him it was half past five—he—er—told me to go to hell at half past six."

"Yes, yes," said the Bishop of London with the suspicion of a twinkle in his kindly old eyes, "but why such haste? You've got almost an hour."

Skilful alike with tongue and pen, He preached to all men everywhere The Gospel of the Golden Rule, The New Commandment given to men, Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need.

—Longfellow.

See also Burglars; Contribution box; Preaching; Resignation.



CLIMATE

In a certain town the local forecaster of the weather was so often wrong that his predictions became a standing joke, to his no small annoyance, for he was very sensitive. At length, in despair of living down his reputation, he asked headquarters to transfer him to another station.

A brief correspondance ensued.

"Why," asked headquarters, "do you wish to be transferred?"

"Because," the forecaster promptly replied, "the climate doesn't agree with me."



CLOTHING

One morning as Mark Twain returned from a neighborhood morning call, sans necktie, his wife met him at the door with the exclamation: "There, Sam, you have been over to the Stowes's again without a necktie! It's really disgraceful the way you neglect your dress!"

Her husband said nothing, but went up to his room.

A few minutes later his neighbor—Mrs. S.—was summoned to the door by a messenger, who presented her with a small box neatly done up. She opened it and found a black silk necktie, accompanied by the following note: "Here is a necktie. Take it out and look at it. I think I stayed half an hour this morning. At the end of that time will you kindly return it, as it is the only one I have?—Mark Twain."

A man whose trousers bagged badly at the knees was standing on a corner waiting for a car. A passing Irishman stopped and watched him with great interest for two or three minutes; at last he said:

"Well, why don't ye jump?"

"The evening wore on," continued the man who was telling the story.

"Excuse me," interrupted the would-be-wit; "but can you tell us what the evening wore on that occasion?"

"I don't know that it is important," replied the story-teller. "But if you must know, I believe it was the close of a summer day."

"See that measuring worm crawling up my skirt!" cried Mrs. Bjenks. "That's a sign I'm going to have a new dress."

"Well, let him make it for you," growled Mr. Bjenks. "And while he's about it, have him send a hookworm to do you up the back. I'm tired of the job."

Dwellers in huts and in marble halls— From Shepherdess up to Queen— Cared little for bonnets, and less for shawls, And nothing for crinoline. But now simplicity's not the rage, And it's funny to think how cold The dress they wore in the Golden Age Would seem in the Age of Gold.

—Henry S. Leigh.

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

—Shakespeare.



CLUBS

Belle and Ben had just announced their engagement.

"When we are married," said Belle, "I shall expect you to shave every morning. It's one of the rules of the club I belong to that none of its members shall marry a man who won't shave every morning."

"Oh, that's all right," replied Ben; "but what about the mornings I don't get home in time? I belong to a club, too."—M.A. Hitchcock.

The guest landing at the yacht club float with his host, both of them wearing oilskins and sou'-westers to protect them from the drenching rain, inquired:

"And who are those gentlemen seated on the veranda, looking so spick and span in their white duck yachting caps and trousers, and keeping the waiters running all the time?"

"They're the rocking-chair members. They never go outside, and they're waterproof inside."

One afternoon thirty ladies met at the home of Mrs. Lyons to form a woman's club. The hostess was unanimously elected president. The next day the following ad appeared in the newspaper:

"Wanted—a reliable woman to take care of a baby. Apply to Mrs. J. W. Lyons."



COAL DEALERS

In a Kansas town where two brothers are engaged in the retail coal business a revival was recently held and the elder of the brothers was converted. For weeks he tried to persuade his brother to join the church. One day he asked:

"Why can't you join the church like I did?"

"It's a fine thing for you to belong to the church," replied the younger brother, "If I join the church who'll weigh the coal?"



COEDUCATION

The speaker was waxing eloquent, and after his peroration on woman's rights he said: "When they take our girls, as they threaten, away from the coeducational colleges, what will follow? What will follow, I repeat?"

And a loud, masculine voice in the audience replied: "I will!"



COFFEE

Among the coffee-drinkers a high place must be given to Bismarck. He liked coffee unadulterated. While with the Prussian Army in France he one day entered a country inn and asked the host if he had any chicory in the house. He had. Bismarck said—"Well, bring it to me; all you have." The man obeyed and handed Bismarck a canister full of chicory. "Are you sure this is all you have?" demanded the Chancellor. "Yes, my lord, every grain." "Then," said Bismarck, keeping the canister by him, "go now and make me a pot of coffee."



COINS

He had just returned from Paris and said to his old aunt in the country: "Here, Aunt, is a silver franc piece I brought you from Paris as a souvenir."

"Thanks, Herman," said the old lady. "I wish you'd thought to have brought me home one of them Latin quarters I read so much about."



COLLECTING OF ACCOUNTS

An enterprising firm advertised: "All persons indebted to our store are requested to call and settle. All those indebted to our store and not knowing it are requested to call and find out. Those knowing themselves indebted and not wishing to call, are requested to stay in one place long enough for us to catch them."

"Sir," said the haughty American to his adhesive tailor, "I object to this boorish dunning. I would have you know that my great-great-grandfather was one of the early settlers."

"And yet," sighed the anxious tradesman, "there are people who believe in heredity."

A retail dealer in buggies doing business in one of the large towns in northern Indiana wrote to a firm in the east ordering a carload of buggies. The firm wired him:

"Cannot ship buggies until you pay for your last consignment."

"Unable to wait so long," wired back the buggy dealer, "cancel order."

The saddest words of tongue or pen May be perhaps, "It might have been," The sweetest words we know, by heck, Are only these "Enclosed find check!"

—Minne-Ha-Ha.



COLLECTORS AND COLLECTING

Sir Walter Raleigh had called to take a cup of tea with Queen Elizabeth.

"It was very good of you, Sir Walter," said her Majesty, smiling sweetly upon the gallant Knight, "to ruin your cloak the other day so that my feet should not be wet by that horrid puddle. May I not instruct my Lord High Treasurer to reimburse you for it?"

"Don't mention it, your Majesty," replied Raleigh. "It only cost two and six, and I have already sold it to an American collector for eight thousand pounds."



COLLEGE GRADUATES

"Can't I take your order for one of our encyclopedias!" asked the dapper agent.

"No I guess not," said the busy man. "I might be able to use it a few times, but my son will be home from college in June."



COLLEGE STUDENTS

"Say, dad, remember that story you told me about when you were expelled from college?"

"Yes."

"Well, I was just thinking, dad, how true it is that history repeats itself."

WANTED: Burly beauty-proof individual to read meters in sorority houses. We haven't made a nickel in two years. The Gas Co.—Michigan Gargoyle.

FRESHMAN—"I have a sliver in my finger."

SOP—"Been scratching your head?"

STUDE—"Do you smoke, professor?"

PROF.—"Why, yes, I'm very fond of a good cigar."

STUDE—"Do you drink, sir?"

PROF.—"Yes, indeed, I enjoy nothing better than a bottle of wine."

STUDE—"Gee, it's going to cost me something to pass this course."—Cornell Widow.

Three boys from Yale, Princeton and Harvard were in a room when a lady entered. The Yale boy asked languidly if some fellow ought not to give a chair to the lady; the Princeton boy slowly brought one, and the Harvard boy deliberately sat down in it.—Life.

A college professor was one day nearing the close of a history lecture and was indulging in one of those rhetorical climaxes in which he delighted when the hour struck. The students immediately began to slam down the movable arms of their lecture chairs and to prepare to leave.

The professor, annoyed at the interruption of his flow of eloquence, held up his hand:

"Wait just one minute, gentlemen. I have a few more pearls to cast."

When Rutherford B. Hayes was a student at college it was his custom to take a walk before breakfast.

One morning two of his student friends went with him. After walking a short distance they met an old man with a long white beard. Thinking that they would have a little fun at the old man's expense, the first one bowed to him very gracefully and said: "Good morning, Father Abraham."

The next one made a low bow and said: "Good morning, Father Isaac."

Young Hayes then made his bow and said: "Good morning Father Jacob."

The old man looked at them a moment and then said: "Young men, I am neither Abraham, Isaac nor Jacob. I am Saul, the son of Kish, and I am out looking for my father's asses, and lo, I have found them."

A western college boy amused himself by writing stories and giving them to papers for nothing. His father objected and wrote to the boy that he was wasting his time. In answer the college lad wrote:

"So, dad, you think I am wasting my time in writing for the local papers and cite Johnson's saying that the man who writes, except for money, is a fool. I shall act upon Doctor Johnson's suggestion and write for money. Send me fifty dollars."

The president of an eastern university had just announced in chapel that the freshman class was the largest enrolled in the history of the institution. Immediately he followed the announcement by reading the text for the morning: "Lord, how are they increased that trouble me!"

STUDE.—"Is it possible to confide a secret to you?"

FRIEND—"Certainly. I will be as silent as the grave."

STUDE—"Well, then, I have a pressing need for two bucks."

FRIEND—"Do not worry. It is as if I had heard nothing." —-Michigan Gargoyle.

"Why did you come to college, anyway? You are not studying," said the Professor.

"Well," said Willie, "I don't know exactly myself. Mother says it is to fit me for the Presidency; Uncle Bill, to sow my wild oats; Sis, to get a chum for her to marry, and Pa, to bankrupt the family."

A young Irishman at college in want of twenty-five dollars wrote to his uncle as follows:

"Dear Uncle.—If you could see how I blush for shame while I am writing, you would pity me. Do you know why? Because I have to ask you for a few dollars, and do not know how to express myself. It is impossible for me to tell you. I prefer to die. I send you this by messenger, who will wait for an answer. Believe me, my dearest uncle, your most obedient and affectionate nephew.

"P.S.—Overcome with shame for what I have written, I have been running after the messenger in order to take the letter from him, but I cannot catch him. Heaven grant that something may happen to stop him, or that this letter may get lost."

The uncle was naturally touched, but was equal to the emergency. He replied as follows:

"My Dear Jack—Console yourself and blush no more. Providence has heard your prayers. The messenger lost your letter. Your affectionate uncle."

The professor was delivering the final lecture of the term. He dwelt with much emphasis on the fact that each student should devote all the intervening time preparing for the final examinations.

"The examination papers are now in the hands of the printer. Are there any questions to be asked?"

Silence prevailed. Suddenly a voice from the rear inquired:

"Who's the printer?"

It was Commencement Day at a well-known woman's college, and the father of one of the young women came to attend the graduation exercises. He was presented to the president, who said, "I congratulate you, sir, upon your extremely large and affectionate family."

"Large and affectionate?" he stammered and looking very much surprised.

"Yes, indeed," said the president. "No less than twelve of your daughter's brothers have called frequently during the winter to take her driving and sleighing, while your eldest son escorted her to the theater at least twice a week. Unusually nice brothers they are."

The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor its great scholars great men.—O.W. Holmes.

See also Harvard university; Scholarship.



COLLEGES AND UNIVERSITIES

The college is a coy maid— She has a habit quaint Of making eyes at millionaires And winking at the taint.

—Judge.

"What is a 'faculty'?"

"A 'faculty' is a body of men surrounded by red tape."—Cornell Widow.

Yale University is to have a ton of fossils. Whether for the faculty or for the museums is not announced.—The Atlanta Journal.

FIRST TRUSTEE—"But this ancient institution of learning will fail unless something is done."

SECOND TRUSTEE—"True; but what can we do? We have already raised the tuition until it is almost 1 per cent of the fraternity fees."—Puck.

The president of the university had dark circles under his eyes. His cheek was pallid; his lips were trembling; he wore a hunted expression.

"You look ill," said his wife. "What is wrong, dear?"

"Nothing much," he replied. "But—I—I had a fearful dream last night, and I feel this morning as if I—as if I—" It was evident that his nervous system was shattered.

"What was the dream?" asked his wife.

"I—I—dreamed the trustees required that—that I should—that I should pass the freshman examination for—admission!" sighed the president.



COMMON SENSE

A mysterious building had been erected on the outskirts of a small town. It was shrouded in mystery. All that was known about it was that it was a chemical laboratory. An old farmer, driving past the place after work had been started, and seeing a man in the doorway, called to him:

"What be ye doin' in this place?"

"We are searching for a universal solvent—something that will dissolve all things," said the chemist.

"What good will thet be?"

"Imagine, sir! It will dissolve all things. If we want a solution of iron, glass, gold—anything, all that we have to do is to drop it in this solution."

"Fine," said the farmer, "fine! What be ye goin' to keep it in?"



COMMUTERS

BRIGGS—"Is it true that you have broken off your engagement to that girl who lives in the suburbs?"

GRIGGS—"Yes; they raised the commutation rates on me and I have transferred to a town girl."

"I see you carrying home a new kind of breakfast food," remarked the first commuter.

"Yes," said the second commuter, "I was missing too many trains. The old brand required three seconds to prepare. You can fix this new brand in a second and a half."

After the sermon on Sunday morning the rector welcomed and shook hands with a young German.

"And are you a regular communicant?" said the rector. "Yes," said the German: "I take the 7:45 every morning."—M.L. Hayward.

A suburban train was slowly working its way through one of the blizzards of 1894. Finally it came to a dead stop and all efforts to start it again were futile.

In the wee, small hours of the morning a weary commuter, numb from the cold and the cramped position in which he had tried to sleep, crawled out of the train and floundered through the heavy snow-drifts to the nearest telegraph station. This is the message he handed to the operator:

"Will not be at office to-day. Not home yesterday yet."

A nervous commuter on his dark, lonely way home from the railroad station heard footsteps behind him. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he was being followed. He increased his speed. The footsteps quickened accordingly. The commuter darted down a lane. The footsteps still pursued him. In desperation he vaulted over a fence and, rushing into a churchyard, threw himself panting on one of the graves.

"If he follows me here," he thought fearfully, "there can be no doubt as to his intentions."

The man behind was following. He could hear him scrambling over the fence. Visions of highwaymen, maniacs, garroters and the like flashed through his brain. Quivering with fear, the nervous one arose and faced his pursuer.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "Wh-why are you following me?"

"Say," asked the stranger, mopping his brow, "do you always go home like this? I'm going up to Mr. Brown's and the man at the station told me to follow you, as you lived next door. Excuse my asking you, but is there much more to do before we get there?"



COMPARISONS

A milliner endeavored to sell to a colored woman one of the last season's hats at a very moderate price. It was a big white picture-hat.

"Law, no, honey!" exclaimed the woman. "I could nevah wear that. I'd look jes' like a blueberry in a pan of milk."

A well-known author tells of an English spinster who said, as she watched a great actress writhing about the floor as Cleopatra:

"How different from the home life of our late dear queen!"

"Darling," whispered the ardent suitor, "I lay my fortune at your feet."

"Your fortune?" she replied in surprise. "I didn't know you had one."

"Well, it isn't much of a fortune, but it will look large besides those tiny feet."

"Girls make me tired," said the fresh young man. "They are always going to palmists to have their hands read."

"Indeed!" said she sweetly; "is that any worse than men going into saloons to get their noses red?"

A friend once wrote Mark Twain a letter saying that he was in very bad health, and concluding: "Is there anything worse than having toothache and earache at the same time?"

The humorist wrote back: "Yes, rheumatism and Saint Vitus's dance."

The Rev. Dr. William Emerson, of Boston, son of Ralph Waldo Emerson, recently made a trip through the South, and one Sunday attended a meeting in a colored church. The preacher was a white man, however, a white man whose first name was George, and evidently a prime favorite with the colored brethren. When the service was over Dr. Emerson walked home behind two members of the congregation, and overheard this conversation: "Massa George am a mos' pow'ful preacher." "He am dat." "He's mos's pow'ful as Abraham Lincoln." "Huh! He's mo' pow'ful dan Lincoln." "He's mos' 's pow'ful as George Washin'ton." "Huh! He's mo' pow'ful dan Washin'ton." "Massa George ain't quite as pow'ful as God." "N-n-o, not quite. But he's a young man yet."

Is it possible your pragmatical worship should not know that the comparisons made between wit and wit, courage and courage, beauty and beauty, birth and birth, are always odious and ill taken?—Cervantes.



COMPENSATION

"Speakin' of de law of compensation," said Uncle Eben, "an automobile goes faster dan a mule, but at de same time it hits harder and balks longer."



COMPETITION

A new baby arrived at a house. A little girl—now fifteen—had been the pet of the family. Every one made much of her, but when there was a new baby she felt rather neglected.

"How are you, Mary?" a visitor asked of her one afternoon.

"Oh, I'm all right," she said, "except that I think there is too much competition in this world."

A farmer during a long-continued drought invented a machine for watering his fields. The very first day while he was trying it there suddenly came a downpour of rain. He put away his machine.

"It's no use," he said; "you can do nothing nowadays without competition."



COMPLIMENTS

Supper was in progress, and the father was telling about a row which took place in front of his store that morning: "The first thing I saw was one man deal the other a sounding blow, and then a crowd gathered. The man who was struck ran and grabbed a large shovel he had been using on the street, and rushed back, his eyes blazing fiercely. I thought he'd surely knock the other man's brains out, and I stepped right in between them."

The young son of the family had become so hugely interested in the narrative as it proceeded that he had stopped eating his pudding. So proud was he of his father's valor, his eyes fairly shone, and he cried:

"He couldn't knock any brains out of you, could he, Father?"

Father looked at him long and earnestly, but the lad's countenance was frank and open.

Father gasped slightly, and resumed his supper.

See also Tact.



COMPOSERS

Recipe for the musical comedy composer:

Librettos of all of the operas, Some shears and a bottle of paste, Curry the hits of last season, Add tumpty-tee tra la to taste.

—Life.



COMPROMISES

Boss—"There's $10 gone from my cash drawer, Johnny; you and I were the only people who had keys to that drawer."

Office Boy—"Well, s'pose we each pay $5 and say no more about it."



CONFESSIONS

"You say Garston made a complete confession? What did he get—five years?"

"No, fifty dollars. He confessed to the magazines."—Puck.

Little Ethel had been brought up with a firm hand and was always taught to report misdeeds promptly. One afternoon she came sobbing penitently to her mother.

"Mother, I—I broke a brick in the fireplace."

"Well, it might be worse. But how on earth did you do it, Ethel?"

"I pounded it with your watch."

"Confession is good for the soul."

"Yes, but it's bad for the reputation."



CONGRESS

Congress is a national inquisitorial body for the purpose of acquiring valuable information and then doing nothing about it.—Life.

"Judging from the stuff printed in the newspapers," says a congressman, "we are a pretty bad lot. Almost in the class a certain miss whom I know unconsciously puts us in. It was at a recent examination at her school that the question was put, 'Who makes the laws of our government?'

"'Congress,' was the united reply.

"'How is Congress divided?' was the next query.

"My young friend raised her hand.

"'Well,' said the teacher, 'what do you say the answer is?'

"Instantly, with an air of confidence as well as triumph, the Miss replied, 'Civilized, half civilized, and savage.'"



CONGRESSMEN

It was at a banquet in Washington given to a large body of congressmen, mostly from the rural districts. The tables were elegant, and it was a scene of fairy splendor; but on one table there were no decorations but palm leaves.

"Here," said a congressman to the head waiter, "why don't you put them things on our table too?" pointing to the plants.

The head waiter didn't know he was a congressman.

"We cain't do it, boss," he whispered confidentially; "dey's mostly congressmen at 'dis table, an' if we put pa'ms on de table dey take um for celery an' eat um all up sho. 'Deed dey would, boss. We knows 'em."

Representative X, from North Carolina, was one night awakened by his wife, who whispered, "John, John, get up! There are robbers in the house."

"Robbers?" he said. "There may be robbers in the Senate, Mary; but not in the House! It's preposterous!"—John N. Cole, Jr.

Champ Clark loves to tell of how in the heat of a debate Congressman Johnson of Indiana called an Illinois representative a jackass. The expression was unparliamentary, and in retraction Johnson said:

"While I withdraw the unfortunate word, Mr. Speaker, I must insist that the gentleman from Illinois is out of order."

"How am I out of order?" yelled the man from Illinois.

"Probably a veterinary surgeon could tell you," answered Johnson, and that was parliamentary enough to stay on the record.

A Georgia Congressman had put up at an American-plan hotel in New York. When, upon sitting down at dinner the first evening of his stay, the waiter obsequiously handed him a bill of fare, the Congressman tossed it aside, slipped the waiter a dollar bill, and said, "Bring me a good dinner."

The dinner proving satisfactory, the Southern member pursued this plan during his entire stay in New York. As the last tip was given, he mentioned that he was about to return to Washington.

Whereupon, the waiter, with an expression of great earnestness, said:

"Well, sir, when you or any of your friends that can't read come to New York, just ask for Dick."



CONSCIENCE

The moral of this story may be that it is better to heed the warnings of the "still small voice" before it is driven to the use of the telephone.

A New York lawyer, gazing idly out of his window, saw a sight in an office across the street that made him rub his eyes and look again. Yes, there was no doubt about it. The pretty stenographer was sitting upon the gentleman's lap. The lawyer noticed the name that was lettered on the window and then searched in the telephone book. Still keeping his eye upon the scene across the street, he called the gentleman up. In a few moments he saw him start violently and take down the receiver.

"Yes," said the lawyer through the telephone, "I should think you would start."

The victim whisked his arm from its former position and began to stammer something.

"Yes," continued the lawyer severely, "I think you'd better take that arm away. And while you're about it, as long as there seems to be plenty of chairs in the room—"

The victim brushed the lady from his lap, rather roughly, it is to be feared. "Who—who the devil is this, anyhow?" he managed to splutter.

"I," answered the lawyer in deep, impressive tones, "am your conscience!"

A quiet conscience makes one so serene! Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

—Byron.

Oh, Conscience! Conscience! man's most faithful friend, Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend; But if he will thy friendly checks forego, Thou art, oh! woe for me his deadliest foe!

—Crabbe.



CONSEQUENCES

A teacher asked her class in spelling to state the difference between the words "results" and "consequences."

A bright girl replied, "Results are what you expect, and consequences are what you get."

Consequences are unpitying. Our deeds carry their terrible consequences, quite apart from any fluctuations that went before—consequences that are hardly ever confined to ourselves.—George Eliot.



CONSIDERATION

The goose had been carved at the Christmas dinner and everybody had tasted it. It was excellent. The negro minister, who was the guest of honor, could not restrain his enthusiasm.

"Dat's as fine a goose as I evah see, Bruddah Williams," he said to his host. "Whar did you git such a fine goose?"

"Well, now, Pahson," replied the carver of the goose, exhibiting great dignity and reticence, "when you preaches a speshul good sermon I never axes you whar you got it. I hopes you will show me de same considerashion."

A clergyman, who was summoned in haste by a woman who had been taken suddenly ill, answered the call though somewhat puzzled by it, for he knew that she was not of his parish, and was, moreover, known to be a devoted worker in another church. While he was waiting to be shown to the sick-room he fell to talking to the little girl of the house.

"It is very gratifying to know that your mother thought of me in her illness," said he, "Is your minister out of town?"

"Oh, no," answered the child, in a matter-of-fact tone. "He's home; only we thought it might be something contagious, and we didn't want to take any risks."



CONSTANCY

A soldier belonging to a brigade in command of a General who believed in a celibate army asked permission to marry, as he had two good-conduct badges and money in the savings-bank.

"Well, go-away," said the General, "and if you come back to me a year from today in the same frame of mind you shall marry. I'll keep the vacancy."

On the anniversary the soldier repeated his request.

"But do you really, after a year, want to marry?" inquired the General in a surprised tone.

"Yes, sir; very much."

"Sergeant-Major, take his name down. Yes, you may marry. I never believed there was so much constancy in man or woman. Right face; quick march!"

As the man left the room, turning his head, he said, "Thank you, sir; but it isn't the same woman."



CONTRIBUTION BOX

The parson looks it o'er and frets. It puts him out of sorts To see how many times he gets A penny for his thoughts.

—J.J. O'Connell.

There were introductions all around. The big man stared in a puzzled way at the club guest. "You look like a man I've seen somewhere, Mr. Blinker," he said. "Your face seems familiar. I fancy you have a double. And a funny thing about it is that I remember I formed a strong prejudice against the man who looks like you—although, I'm quite sure, we never met."

The little guest softly laughed. "I'm the man," he answered, "and I know why you formed the prejudice. I passed the contribution plate for two years in the church you attended."

The collections had fallen off badly in the colored church and the pastor made a short address before the box was passed.

"I don' want any man to gib mo' dan his share, bredern," he said gently, "but we mus' all gib ercordin' to what we rightly hab. I say 'rightly hab," bredern, because we don't want no tainted money in dis box. 'Squire Jones tol' me dat he done miss some chickens dis week. Now if any of our bredern hab fallen by de wayside in connection wif dose chickens let him stay his hand from de box.

"Now, Deacon Smiff, please pass de box while I watch de signs an' see if dere's any one in dis congregation dat needs me ter wrastle in prayer fer him."

A newly appointed Scotch minister on his first Sunday of office had reason to complain of the poorness of the collection. "Mon," replied one of the elders, "they are close—vera close."

"But," confidentially, "the auld meenister he put three or four saxpenses into the plate hissel', just to gie them a start. Of course he took the saxpenses awa' with him afterward." The new minister tried the same plan, but the next Sunday he again had to report a dismal failure. The total collection was not only small, but he was grieved to find that his own sixpences were missing. "Ye may be a better preacher than the auld meenister," exclaimed the elder, "but if ye had half the knowledge o' the world, an' o' yer ain flock in particular, ye'd ha' done what he did an' glued the saxpenses to the plate."

POLICE COMMISSIONER—"If you were ordered to disperse a mob, what would you do?"

APPLICANT—"Pass around the hat, sir."

POLICE COMMISSIONER—"That'll do; you're engaged."

"I advertized that the poor were made welcome in this church," said the vicar to his congregation, "and as the offertory amounts to ninety-five cents, I see that they have come."

See also Salvation.



CONUNDRUMS

"Mose, what is the difference between a bucket of milk in a rain storm and a conversation between two confidence men?"

"Say, boss, dat nut am too hard to crack; I'se gwine to give it up."

"Well, Mose, one is a thinning scheme and the other is a skinning theme."



CONVERSATION

"My dog understands every word I say."

"Um."

"Do you doubt it?"

"No, I do not doubt the brute's intelligence. The scant attention he bestows upon your conversation would indicate that he understands it perfectly."

THE TALL AND AGGRESSIVE ONE—"Excuse me, but I'm in a hurry! You've had that phone twenty minutes and not said a word!"

THE SHORT AND MEEK ONE—"Sir, I'm talking to my wife."—Puck.

HUS (during a quarrel)—"You talk like an idiot."

WIFE—"I've got to talk so you can understand me."

Irving Bacheller, it appears, was on a tramping tour through New England. He discovered a chin-bearded patriarch on a roadside rock.

"Fine corn," said Mr. Bacheller, tentatively, using a hillside filled with straggling stalks as a means of breaking the conversational ice.

"Best in Massachusetts," said the sitter.

"How do you plow that field?" asked Mr. Bacheller. "It is so very steep."

"Don't plow it," said the sitter. "When the spring thaws come, the rocks rolling down hill tear it up so that we can plant corn."

"And how do you plant it?" asked Mr. Bacheller. The sitter said that he didn't plant it, really. He stood in his back door and shot the seed in with a shotgun.

"Is that the truth?" asked Bacheller.

"H—ll no," said the sitter, disgusted. "That's conversation."

Conversation is the laboratory and workshop of the student.—Emerson.

A single conversation across the table with a wise man is better than ten years' study of books.—Longfellow.



COOKERY

"John, John," whispered an alarmed wife, poking her sleeping husband in the ribs. "Wake up, John; there are burglars in the pantry and they're eating all my pies."

"Well, what do we care," mumbled John, rolling over, "so long as they don't die in the house?"

"This is certainly a modern cook-book in every way."

"How so?"

"It says: 'After mixing your bread, you can watch two reels at the movies before putting it in the oven.'"—Puck.

There was recently presented to a newly-married young woman in Baltimore such a unique domestic proposition that she felt called upon to seek expert advice from another woman, whom she knew to possess considerable experience in the cooking line.

"Mrs. Jones," said the first mentioned young woman, as she breathlessly entered the apartment of the latter, "I'm sorry to trouble you, but I must have your advice."

"What is the trouble, my dear?"

"Why, I've just had a 'phone message from Harry, saying that he is going out this afternoon to shoot clay pigeons. Now, he's bound to bring a lot home, and I haven't the remotest idea how to cook them. Won't you please tell me?"—Taylor Edwards.

Heaven sends us good meat, but the devil sends us cooks.—David Garrick.



COOKS

See Servants.



CORNETS

Spurgeon was once asked if the man who learned to play a cornet on Sunday would go to heaven.

The great preacher's reply was characteristic. Said he: "I don't see why he should not, but"—after a pause—"I doubt whether the man next door will."



CORNS

Great aches from little toe-corns grow.



CORPULENCE

The wife of a prominent Judge was making arrangements with the colored laundress of the village to take charge of their washing for the summer. Now, the Judge was pompous and extremely fat. He tipped the scales at some three hundred pounds.

"Missus," said the woman, "I'll do your washing, but I'se gwine ter charge you double for your husband's shirts."

"Why, what is your reason for that Nancy," questioned the mistress.

"Well," said the laundress, "I don't mind washing fur an ordinary man, but I draws de line on circus tents, I sho' do."

An employee of a rolling mill was on his vacation when he fell in love with a handsome German girl. Upon his return to the works, he went to Mr. Carnegie and announced that as he wanted to get married he would like a little further time off. Mr. Carnegie appeared much interested. "Tell me about her," he said. "Is she short or is she tall, slender, willowy?"

"Well, Mr. Carnegie," was the answer, "all I can say is that if I'd had the rolling of her, I should have given her two or three more passes."

A very stout old lady, bustling through the park on a sweltering hot day, became aware that she was being closely followed by a rough-looking tramp.

"What do you mean by following me in this manner?" she indignantly demanded. The tramp slunk back a little. But when the stout lady resumed her walk he again took up his position directly behind her.

"See here," she exclaimed, wheeling angrily, "if you don't go away at once I shall call a policeman!"

The unfortunate man looked up at her appealingly.

"For Heaven's sake, kind lady, have mercy an' don't call a policeman; ye're the only shady spot in the whole park."

A jolly steamboat captain with more girth than height was asked if he had ever had any very narrow escapes.

"Yes," he replied, his eyes twinkling; "once I fell off my boat at the mouth of Bear Creek, and, although I'm an expert swimmer, I guess I'd be there now if it hadn't been for my crew. You see the water was just deep enough so's to be over my head when I tried to wade out, and just shallow enough"—he gave his body an explanatory pat—"so that whenever I tried to swim out I dragged bottom."

A very large lady entered a street car and a young man near the door rose and said: "I will be one of three to give the lady a seat."

To our Fat Friends: May their shadows never grow less.

See also Dancing.



COSMOPOLITANISM

Secretary of State Lazansky refused to incorporate the Hell Cafe of New York.

"New York's cafes are singular enough," said Mr. Lazansky, "without the addition of such a queerly named institution as the Hell."

He smiled and added:

"Is there anything quite so queerly cosmopolitan as a New York cafe? In the last one I visited, I saw a Portuguese, a German and an Italian, dressed in English clothes and seated at a table of Spanish walnut, lunching on Russian caviar, French rolls, Scotch salmon, Welsh rabbit, Swiss cheese, Dutch cake and Malaga raisins. They drank China tea and Irish whisky."



COST OF LIVING

"Did you punish our son for throwing a lump of coal at Willie Smiggs?" asked the careful mother.

"I did," replied the busy father. "I don't care so much for the Smiggs boy, but I can't have anybody in this family throwing coal around like that."

"Live within your income," was a maxim uttered by Mr. Carnegie on his seventy-sixth birthday. This is easy; the difficulty is to live without it.—Satire.

"You say your jewels were stolen while the family was at dinner?"

"No, no! This is an important robbery. Our dinner was stolen while we were putting on our jewels."

A grouchy butcher, who had watched the price of porterhouse steak climb the ladder of fame, was deep in the throes of an unusually bad grouch when a would-be customer, eight years old, approached him and handed him a penny.

"Please, mister, I want a cent's worth of sausage."

Turning on the youngster with a growl, he let forth this burst of good salesmanship:

"Go smell o' the hook!"

TOM—"My pa is very religious. He always bows his head and says something before meals."

DICK—"Mine always says something when he sits down to eat, but he don't bow his head."

TOM—"What does he say?"

DICK—"Go easy on the butter, kids, it's forty cents a pound."



COUNTRY LIFE

BILTER (at servants' agency)—"Have you got a cook who will go to the country?"

MANAGER (calling out to girls in next room)—"Is there any one here who would like to spend a day in the country?"—Life.

VISITOR—"You have a fine road leading from the station."

SUBUBS—"That's the path worn by servant-girls."

See also Commuters; Servants.



COURAGE

AUNT ETHEL—"Well, Beatrice, were you very brave at the dentist's?"

BEATRICE—"Yes, auntie, I was."

AUNT ETHEL—"Then, there's the half crown I promised you. And now tell me what he did to you."

BEATRICE—"He pulled out two of Willie's teeth!"—Punch.

He was the small son of a bishop, and his mother was teaching him the meaning of courage.

"Supposing," she said, "there were twelve boys in one bedroom, and eleven got into bed at once, while the other knelt down to say his prayers, that boy would show true courage."

"Oh!" said the young hopeful. "I know something that would be more courageous than that! Supposing there were twelve bishops in one bedroom, and one got into bed without saying his prayers!"

Courage, the highest gift, that scorns to bend To mean devices for a sordid end. Courage—an independent spark from Heaven's bright throne, By which the soul stands raised, triumphant, high, alone. Great in itself, not praises of the crowd, Above all vice, it stoops not to be proud. Courage, the mighty attribute of powers above, By which those great in war, are great in love. The spring of all brave acts is seated here, As falsehoods draw their sordid birth from fear.

—Farquhar.



COURTESY

The mayor of a French town had, in accordance with the regulations, to make out a passport for a rich and highly respectable lady of his acquaintance, who, in spite of a slight disfigurement, was very vain of her personal appearance. His native politeness prompted him to gloss over the defect, and, after a moment's reflection, he wrote among the items of personal description: "Eyes dark, beautiful, tender, expressive, but one of them missing."

Mrs. Taft, at a diplomatic dinner, had for a neighbor a distinguished French traveler who boasted a little unduly of his nation's politeness.

"We French," the traveler declared, "are the politest people in the world. Every one acknowledges it. You Americans are a remarkable nation, but the French excel you in politeness. You admit it yourself, don't you?"

Mrs. Taft smiled delicately.

"Yes," she said. "That is our politeness."

Justice Moody was once riding on the platform of a Boston street car standing next to the gate that protected passengers from cars coming on the other track. A Boston lady came to the door of the car and, as it stopped, started toward the gate, which was hidden from her by the man standing before it.

"Other side, lady," said the conductor.

He was ignored as only a born-and-bred Bostonian can ignore a man. The lady took another step toward the gate.

"You must get off the other side," said the conductor.

"I wish to get off on this side," came the answer, in tones that congealed that official. Before he could explain or expostulate Mr. Moody came to his assistance.

"Stand to one side, gentlemen," he remarked quietly. "The lady wishes to climb over the gate."



COURTS

One day when old Thaddeus Stevens was practicing in the courts he didn't like the ruling of the presiding Judge. A second time when the Judge ruled against "old Thad," the old man got up with scarlet face and quivering lips and commenced tying up his papers as if to quit the courtroom.

"Do I understand, Mr. Stevens," asked the Judge, eying "old Thad" indignantly, "that you wish to show your contempt for this court?"

"No, sir; no, sir," replied "old Thad." "I don't want to show my contempt, sir; I'm trying to conceal it."

"It's all right to fine me, Judge," laughed Barrowdale, after the proceedings were over, "but just the same you were ahead of me in your car, and if I was guilty you were too."

"Ya'as, I know," said the judge with a chuckle, "I found myself guilty and hev jest paid my fine into the treasury same ez you."

"Bully for you!" said Barrowdale. "By the way, do you put these fines back into the roads?"

"No," said the judge. "They go to the trial jestice in loo o' sal'ry."

A stranger came into an Augusta bank the other day and presented a check for which he wanted the equivalent in cash.

"Have to be identified," said the clerk.

The stranger took a bunch of letters from his pocket all addressed to the same name as that on the check.

The clerk shook his head.

The man thought a minute and pulled out his watch, which bore the name on its inside cover.

Clerk hardly glanced at it.

The man dug into his pockets and found one of those "If-I-should-die-tonight-please-notify-my-wife" cards, and called the clerk's attention to the description, which fitted to a T.

But the clerk was still obdurate.

"Those things don't prove anything," he said. "We've got to have the word of a man that we know."

"But, man, I've given you an identification that would convict me of murder in any court in the land."

"That's probably very true," responded the clerk, patiently, "but in matters connected with the bank we have to be more careful."

See also Jury; Witnesses.



COURTSHIP

"Do you think a woman believes you when you tell her she is the first girl you ever loved?"

"Yes, if you're the first liar she has ever met."

Augustus Fitzgibbons Moran Fell in love with Maria McCann. With a yell and a whoop He cleared the front stoop Just ahead of her papa's brogan.

SPOONLEIGH—"Does your sister always look under the bed?"

HER LITTLE BROTHER—"Yes, and when you come to see her she always looks under the sofa."—J.J. O'Connell.

There was a young man from the West, Who loved a young lady with zest; So hard did he press her To make her say, "Yes, sir," That he broke three cigars in his vest.

"I hope your father does not object to my staying so late," said Mr. Stayput as the clock struck twelve.

"Oh, dear, no," replied Miss Dabbs, with difficulty suppressing a yawn, "He says you save him the expense of a night-watchman."

There was an old monk of Siberia, Whose existence grew drearier and drearier; He burst from his cell With a hell of a yell, And eloped with the Mother Superior.

It was scarcely half-past nine when the rather fierce-looking father of the girl entered the parlor where the timid lover was courting her. The father had his watch in his hand.

"Young man," he said brusquely, "do you know what time it is?"

"Y-y-yes sir," stuttered the frightened lover, as he scrambled out into the hall; "I—I was just going to leave!"

After the beau had made a rapid exit, the father turned to the girl and said in astonishment:

"What was the matter with that fellow? My watch has run down, and I simply wanted to know the time."

"What were you and Mr. Smith talking about in the parlor?" asked her mother. "Oh, we were discussing our kith and kin," replied the young lady.

The mother look dubiously at her daughter, whereupon her little brother, wishing to help his sister, said:

"Yeth they wath, Mother. I heard 'em. Mr. Thmith asked her for a kith and she thaid, 'You kin.'"

During a discussion of the fitness of things in general some one asked: "If a young man takes his best girl to the grand opera, spends $8 on a supper after the performance, and then takes her home in a taxicab, should he kiss her goodnight?"

An old bachelor who was present growled: "I don't think she ought to expect it. Seems to me he has done enough for her."

A young woman who was about to wed decided at the last moment to test her sweetheart. So, selecting the prettiest girl she knew, she said to her, though she knew it was a great risk.

"I'll arrange for Jack to take you out tonight—a walk on the beach in the moonlight, a lobster supper and all that sort of thing—and I want you, in order to put his fidelity to the proof, to ask him for a kiss."

The other girl laughed, blushed and assented. The dangerous plot was carried out. Then the next day the girl in love visited the pretty one and said anxiously:

"Well, did you ask him?"

"No, dear."

"No? Why not?"

"I didn't get a chance. He asked me first."

Uncle Nehemiah, the proprietor of a ramshackle little hotel in Mobile, was aghast at finding a newly arrived guest with his arm around his daughter's waist.

"Mandy, tell that niggah to take his arm from around yo' wais'," he indignantly commanded.

"Tell him you'self," said Amanda. "He's a puffect stranger to me."

"Jack and I have parted forever."

"Good gracious! What does that mean?"

"Means that I'll get a five-pound box of candy in about an hour."

Here's to solitaire with a partner, The only game in which one pair beats three of a kind.

See also Love; Proposals.



COWARDS

Mrs. Hicks was telling some ladies about the burglar scare in her house the night before.

"Yes," she said, "I heard a noise and got up, and there, from under the bed, I saw a man's legs sticking out."

"Mercy!" exclaimed a woman. "The burglar's legs?"

"No, my dear; my husband's legs. He heard the noise, too."

MRS. PECK—"Henry, what would you do if burglars broke into our house some night?"

MR. PECK (valiantly)—"Humph! I should keep perfectly cool, my dear."

And when, a few nights later, burglars did break in, Henry kept his promise: he hid in the ice-box.

Johnny hasn't been to school long, but he already holds some peculiar views regarding the administration of his particular room.

The other day he came home with a singularly morose look on his usually smiling face.

"Why, Johnny," said his mother, "what's the matter?"

"I ain't going to that old school no more," he fiercely announced.

"Why, Johnny," said his mother reproachfully, "you mustn't talk like that. What's wrong with the school?"

"I ain't goin' there no more," Johnny replied; "an" it's because all th' boys in my room is blamed old cowards!"

"Why, Johnny, Johnny!"

"Yes, they are. There was a boy whisperin' this mornin', an' teacher saw him an' bumped his head on th' desk ever an' ever so many times. An' those big cowards sat there an' didn't say quit nor nothin'. They let that old teacher bang th' head off th' poor little boy, an' they just sat there an' seen her do it!"

"And what did you do, Johnny?"

"I didn't do nothin'—I was the boy!"—Cleveland Plain Dealer.

A negro came running down the lane as though the Old Boy were after him.

"What are you running for, Mose?" called the colonel from the barn.

"I ain't a-runnin' fo'," shouted back Mose. "I'se a-runnin' from!"



COWS

Little Willie, being a city boy, had never seen a cow. While on a visit to his grandmother he walked out across the fields with his cousin John. A cow was grazing there, and Willie's curiosity was greatly excited.

"Oh, Cousin John, what is that?" he asked.

"Why, that is only a cow," John replied.

"And what are those things on her head?"

"Horns," answered John.

Before they had gone far the cow mooed long and loud.

Willie was astounded. Looking back, he demanded, in a very fever of interest:

"Which horn did she blow?"

There was an old man who said, "How Shall I flee from this horrible cow? I will sit on this stile And continue to smile, Which may soften the heart of that cow."



CRITICISM

FIRST MUSIC CRITIC—"I wasted a whole evening by going to that new pianist's concert last night!"

SECOND MUSIC CRITIC—"Why?"

FIRST MUSIC CRITIC—"His playing was above criticism!"

As soon Seek roses in December—ice in June, Hope, constancy in wind, or corn in chaff; Believe a woman or an epitaph, Or any other thing that's false, before You trust in critics.

—Byron.

It is much easier to be critical than to be correct.—Disraeli.

See also Dramatic criticism.



CRUELTY

"Why do you beat your little son? It was the cat that upset the vase of flowers."

"I can't beat the cat. I belong to the S.P.C.A."



CUCUMBERS

Consider the ways of the little green cucumber, which never does its best fighting till it's down.—Stanford Chaparral.



CULTURE

See Kultur.



CURFEW

A former resident of Marshall, Mo., was asking about the old town.

"I understand they have a curfew law out there now," he said.

"No," his informant answered, "they did have one, but they abandoned it."

"What was the matter?"

"Well, the bell rang at 9 o'clock, and almost everyone complained that it woke them up."



CURIOSITY

The Christmas church services were proceeding very successfully when a woman in the gallery got so interested that she leaned out too far and fell over the railing. Her dress caught in a chandelier, and she was suspended in mid-air. The minister noticed her undignified position and thundered at the congregation:

"Any person in this congregation who turns around will be struck stone-blind."

A man, whose curiosity was getting the better of him, but who dreaded the clergyman's warning, finally turned to his companion and said:

"I'm going to risk one eye."

A one-armed man entered a restaurant at noon and seated himself next to a dapper little other-people's-business man. The latter at once noticed his neighbor's left sleeve hanging loose and kept eying it in a how-did-it-happen sort of a way. The one-armed man paid no attention to him but kept on eating with his one hand. Finally the inquisitive one could stand it no longer. He changed his position a little, cleared his throat, and said: "I beg pardon, sir, but I see you have lost an arm."

The one-armed man picked up his sleeve with his right hand and peered anxiously into it. "Bless my soul!" he exclaimed, looking up with great surprise. "I do believe you're right."

See also Wives.



CYCLONES

See Windfalls.



DACHSHUNDS

A little boy was entertaining the minister the other day until his mother could complete her toilet. The minister, to make congenial conversation, inquired: "Have you a dog?"

"Yes, sir; a dachshund," responded the lad.

"Where is he?" questioned the dominic, knowing the way to a boy's heart.

"Father sends him away for the winter. He says it takes him so long to go in and out of the door he cools the whole house off."



DAMAGES

A Chicago lawyer tells of a visit he received from a Mrs. Delehanty, accompanied by Mr. Delehanty, the day after Mrs. Delehanty and a Mrs. Cassidy had indulged in a little difference of opinion.

When he had listened to the recital of Mrs. Delehanty's troubles, the lawyer said:

"You want to get damages, I suppose?"

"Damages! Damages!" came in shrill tones from Mrs. Delehanty. "Haven't I got damages enough already, man? What I'm after is satisfaction."

A Chicago man who was a passenger on a train that met with an accident not far from that city tells of a curious incident that he witnessed in the car wherein he was sitting.

Just ahead of him were a man and his wife. Suddenly the train was derailed, and went bumping down a steep hill. The man evinced signs of the greatest terror; and when the car came to a stop he carefully examined himself to learn whether he had received any injury. After ascertaining that he was unhurt, he thought of his wife and damages.

"Are you hurt, dear?" he asked.

"No, thank Heaven!" was the grateful response.

"Look here, then," continued hubby, "I'll tell you what we'll do. You let me black your eye, and we'll soak the company good for damages! It won't hurt you much. I'll give you just one good punch." —Howard Morse.

Up in Minnesota Mr. Olsen had a cow killed by a railroad train. In due season the claim agent for the railroad called.

"We understand, of course, that the deceased was a very docile and valuable animal," said the claim agent in his most persuasive claim-agentlemanly manner "and we sympathize with you and your family in your loss. But, Mr. Olsen, you must remember this: Your cow had no business being upon our tracks. Those tracks are our private property and when she invaded them, she became a trespasser. Technically speaking, you, as her owner, became a trespasser also. But we have no desire to carry the issue into court and possibly give you trouble. Now then, what would you regard as a fair settlement between you and the railroad company?"

"Vail," said Mr. Olsen slowly, "Ay bane poor Swede farmer, but Ay shall give you two dollars."



DANCING

He was a remarkably stout gentleman, excessively fond of dancing, so his friends asked him why he had stopped, and was it final?

"Oh, no, I hope not," sighed the old fellow. "I still love it, and I've merely stopped until I can find a concave lady for a partner."

George Bernard Shaw was recently entertained at a house party. While the other guests were dancing, one of the onlookers called Mr. Shaw's attention to the awkward dancing of a German professor.

"Really horrid dancing, isn't it, Mr. Shaw?"

G.B.S. was not at a loss for the true Shavian response. "Oh that's not dancing" he answered. "That's the New Ethical Movement!"

On a journey through the South not long ago, Wu Ting Fang was impressed by the preponderance of negro labor in one of the cities he visited. Wherever the entertainment committee led him, whether to factory, store or suburban plantation, all the hard work seemed to be borne by the black men.

Minister Wu made no comment at the time, but in the evening when he was a spectator at a ball given in his honor, after watching the waltzing and two-stepping for half an hour, he remarked to his host:

"Why don't you make the negroes do that for you, too?"

If they had danced the tango and the trot In days of old, there is no doubt we'd find The poet would have written—would he not?— "On with the dance, let joy be unrefined!"

—J.J. O'Connell.



DEAD BEATS

See Bills; Collecting of accounts.



DEBTS

A train traveling through the West was held up by masked bandits. Two friends, who were on their way to California, were among the passengers.

"Here's where we lose all our money," one said, as a robber entered the car.

"You don't think they'll take everything, do you?" the other asked nervously.

"Certainly," the first replied. "These fellows never miss anything."

"That will be terrible," the second friend said. "Are you quite sure they won't leave us any money?" he persisted.

"Of course," was the reply. "Why do you ask?"

The other was silent for a minute. Then, taking a fifty-dollar note from his pocket, he handed it to his friend.

"What is this for?" the first asked, taking the money.

"That's the fifty dollars I owe you," the other answered. "Now we're square."—W. Dayton Wegefarth.

WILLIS—"He calls himself a dynamo."

GILLIS—"No wonder; everything he has on is charged."—Judge.

Anticipated rents, and bills unpaid, Force many a shining youth into the shade, Not to redeem his time, but his estate, And play the fool, but at the cheaper rate.

—Cowper.

I hold every man a debtor to his profession.—Bacon.



DEER

"The deer's a mighty useful beast From Petersburg to Tennyson For while he lives he lopes around And when he's dead he's venison."

—Ellis Parker Butler.



DEGREES

A young theologian named Fiddle Refused to accept his degree; "For," said he, "'tis enough to be Fiddle, Without being Fiddle D.D."



DEMOCRACY

"Why are you so vexed, Irma?"

"I am so exasperated! I attended the meeting of the Social Equality League, and my parlor-maid presided, and she had the audacity to call me to order three times."—M. L. Hayward.

See also Ancestry.



DEMOCRATIC PARTY

HOSPITAL PHYSICIAN—"Which ward do you wish to be taken to? A pay ward or a—"

MALONEY—"Iny of thim, Doc, thot's safely Dimocratic."



DENTISTRY

Our young hopeful came running into the house. His suit was dusty, and there was a bump on his small brow. But a gleam was in his eye, and he held out a baby tooth.

"How did you pull it?" demanded his mother.

"Oh," he said bravely, "it was easy enough. I just fell down, and the whole world came up and pushed it out."



DENTISTS

The dentist is one who pulls out the teeth of others to obtain employment for his own.

One day little Flora was taken to have an aching tooth removed. That night, while she was saying her prayers, her mother was surprised to hear her say: "And forgive us our debts as we forgive our dentists."—Everybody's.

One said a tooth drawer was a kind of unconscionable trade, because his trade was nothing else but to take away those things whereby every man gets his living.—Haglitt.



DESCRIPTION

A popular soprano is said to have a voice of fine timbre, a willowy figure, cherry lips, chestnut hair, and hazel eyes. She must have been raised in the lumber regions.—Ella Hutchison Ellwanger.



DESIGN, DECORATIVE

Harold watched his mother as she folded up an intricate piece of lace she had just crocheted.

"Where did you get the pattern, Mamma?" he questioned.

"Out of my head," she answered lightly.

"Does your head feel better now, Mamma?" he asked anxiously.—C. Hilton Turvey.



DESTINATION

A Washington car conductor, born in London and still a cockney, has succeeded in extracting thrills from the alphabet—imparting excitement to the names of the national capitol's streets. On a recent Sunday morning he was calling the streets thus:

"Haitch!"

"High!"

"Jay!"

"Kay!"

"Hell!"

At this point three prim ladies picked up their prayer-books and left the car.—Lippincott's Magazine.

Andrew Lang once invited a friend to dinner when he was staying in Marlowe's road, Earl's Court, a street away at the end of that long Cromwell road, which seems to go on forever. The guest was not very sure how to get there, so Lang explained:

"Walk right' along Cromwell road," he said, "till you drop dead and my house is just opposite!"



DETAILS

Charles Frohman was talking to a Philadelphia reporter about the importance of detail.

"Those who work for me," he said, "follow my directions down to the very smallest item. To go wrong in detail, you know, is often to go altogether wrong—like the dissipated husband.

"A dissipated husband as he stood before his house in the small hours searching for his latchkey, muttered to himself:

"'Now which did my wife say—hic—have two whishkies an' get home by 12, or—hic—have twelve whishkies an' get home by 2?'"



DETECTIVES

When Conan Doyle arrived for the first time in Boston he was instantly recognized by the cabman whose vehicle he had engaged. When the great literary man offered to pay his fare the cabman said quite respectfully:

"If you please, sir, I should much prefer a ticket to your lecture. If you should have none with you a visiting-card penciled by yourself would do."

Conan Doyle laughed.

"Tell me," he said, "how did you know who I was, and I will give you tickets for your whole family."

"Thank you sir," was the reply. "Why, we all knew—that is, all the members of the Cabmen's Literary Guild knew—that you were coming by this train. I happen to be the only member on duty at the station this morning. If you will excuse personal remarks your coat lapels are badly twisted downward where they have been grasped by the pertinacious New York reporters. Your hair has the Quakerish cut of a Philadelphia barber, and your hat, battered at the brim in front, shows where you have tightly grasped it in the struggle to stand your ground at a Chicago literary luncheon. Your right overshoe has a large block of Buffalo mud just under the instep, the odor of a Utica cigar hangs about your clothing, and the overcoat itself shows the slovenly brushing of the porters of the through sleepers from Albany, and stenciled upon the very end of the 'Wellington' in fairly plain lettering is your name, 'Conan Doyle.'"



DETERMINATION

After the death of Andrew Jackson the following conversation is said to have occurred between an Anti-Jackson broker and a Democratic merchant:

MERCHANT (with a sigh)—"Well, the old General is dead."

BROKER (with a shrug)—"Yes, he's gone at last."

MERCHANT (not appreciating the shrug)—"Well, sir, he was a good man."

BROKER (with shrug more pronounced)—"I don't know about that."

MERCHANT (energetically)—"He was a good man, sir. If any man has gone to heaven, General Jackson has gone to heaven."

BROKER (doggedly)—"I don't know about that."

MERCHANT—"Well, sir, I tell you that if Andrew Jackson had made up his mind to go to heaven, you may depend upon it he's there."



DIAGNOSIS

An epileptic dropped in a fit on the streets of Boston not long ago, and was taken to a hospital. Upon removing his coat there was found pinned to his waistcoat a slip of paper on which was written:

"This is to inform the house-surgeon that this is just a case of plain fit: not appendicitis. My appendix has already been removed twice."



DIET

Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow ye diet.—William Gilmore Beymer.

There was a young lady named Perkins, Who had a great fondness for gherkins; She went to a tea And ate twenty-three, Which pickled her internal workin's.

"Mother," asked the little one, on the occasion of a number of guests being present at dinner, "will the dessert hurt me, or is there enough to go round?"

The doctor told him he needed carbohydrates, proteids, and above all, something nitrogenous. The doctor mentioned a long list of foods for him to eat. He staggered out and wabbled into a Penn avenue restaurant.

"How about beefsteak?" he asked the waiter. "Is that nitrogenous?"

The waiter didn't know.

"Are fried potatoes rich in carbohydrates or not?"

The waiter couldn't say.

"Well, I'll fix it," declared the poor man in despair. "Bring me a large plate of hash."

A Colonel, who used to assert That naught his digestion could hurt, Was forced to admit That his weak point was hit When they gave him hot shot for dessert.

To abstain that we may enjoy is the epicurianism of reason.—Rousseau.

They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.—Shakespeare.



DILEMMAS

A story that has done service in political campaigns to illustrate supposed dilemmas of the opposition will likely be revived in every political "heated term."

Away back, when herds of buffalo grazed along the foothills of the western mountains, two hardy prospectors fell in with a bull bison that seemed to have been separated from his kind and run amuck. One of the prospectors took to the branches of a tree and the other dived into a cave. The buffalo bellowed at the entrance to the cavern and then turned toward the tree. Out came the man from the cave, and the buffalo took after him again. The man made another dive for the hole. After this had been repeated several times, the man in the tree called to his comrade, who was trembling at the mouth of the cavern:

"Stay in the cave, you idiot!"

"You don't know nothing about this hole," bawled the other. "There's a bear in it!"



DINING

A twelve course dinner might be described as a gastronomic marathon.—John E. Rosser.

"That was the spirit of your uncle that made that table stand, turn over, and do such queer stunts."

"I am not surprised; he never did have good table manners."

"Chakey, Chakey," called the big sister as she stood in the doorway and looked down the street toward the group of small boys: "Chakey, come in alreaty and eat youseself. Maw she's on the table and Paw he's half et."

There was a young lady of Cork, Whose Pa made a fortune in pork; He bought for his daughter A tutor who taught her To balance green peas on her fork.

An anecdote about Dr. Randall Davidson, bishop of Winchester, is that after an ecclesiastical function, as the clergy were trooping in to luncheon, an unctuous archdeacon observed: "This is the time to put a bridle on our appetites!"

"Yes," replied the bishop, "this is the time to put a bit in our mouths!"—Christian Life.

There was a young lady named Maud, A very deceptive young fraud; She never was able To eat at the table, But out in the pantry—O Lord!

"Father's trip abroad did him so much good," said the self-made man's daughter. "He looks better, feels better, and as for appetite—honestly, it would just do your heart good to hear him eat!"

Whistler, the artist, was one day invited to dinner at a friend's house and arrived at his destination two hours late.

"How extraordinary!" he exclaimed, as he walked into the dining-room where the company was seated at the table; "really, I should think you might have waited a bit—why, you're just like a lot of pigs with your eating!"

A macaroon, A cup of tea, An afternoon, Is all that she Will eat; She's in society.

But let me take This maiden fair To some cafe, And, then and there, She'll eat the whole Blame bill of fare.

—The Mystic Times.

The small daughter of the house was busily setting the tables for expected company when her mother called to her:

"Put down three forks at each place, dear."

Having made some observations on her own account when the expected guests had dined with her mother before, she inquired thoughtfully:

"Shall I give Uncle John three knives?"

For a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner—Samuel Johnson.



DIPLOMACY

WIFE—"Please match this piece of silk for me before you come home."

HUSBAND—"At the counter where the sweet little blond works? The one with the soulful eyes and—"

WIFE—"No. You're too tired to shop for me when your day's work is done, dear. On second thought, I won't bother you."

Scripture tells us that a soft answer turneth away wrath. A witty repartee sometimes helps one immensely also.

When Richard Olney was secretary of state he frequently gave expression to the opinion that appointees to the consular service should speak the language of the countries to which they were respectively accredited. It is said that when a certain breezy and enterprising western politician who was desirous of serving the Cleveland administration in the capacity of consul of the Chinese ports presented his papers to Mr. Olney, the secretary remarked:

"Are you aware, Mr. Blank, that I never recommend to the President the appointment of a consul unless he speaks the language of the country to which he desires to go? Now, I suppose you do not speak Chinese?"

Whereupon the westerner grinned broadly. "If, Mr. Secretary," said he, "you will ask me a question in Chinese, I shall be happy to answer it." He got the appointment.

"Miss de Simpson," said the young secretary of legation, "I have opened negotiations with your father upon the subject of—er—coming to see you oftener, with a view ultimately to forming an alliance, and he has responded favorably. May I ask if you will ratify the arrangement, as a modus vivendi?"

"Mr. von Harris," answered the daughter of the eminent diplomat, "don't you think it would have been a more graceful recognition of my administrative entity if you had asked me first?"

I call'd the devil and he came, And with wonder his form did I closely scan; He is not ugly, and is not lame, But really a handsome and charming man. A man in the prime of life is the devil, Obliging, a man of the world, and civil; A diplomatist too, well skill'd in debate, He talks quite glibly of church and state.

—Heine.



DISCIPLINE

See Military discipline; Parents.



DISCOUNTS

A train in Arizona was boarded by robbers, who went through the pockets of the luckless passengers. One of them happened to be a traveling salesman from New York, who, when his turn came, fished out $200, but rapidly took $4 from the pile and placed it in his vest pocket.

"What do you mean by that?" asked the robber, as he toyed with his revolver. Hurriedly came the answer: "Mine frent, you surely vould not refuse me two per zent discount on a strictly cash transaction like dis?"



DISCRETION

When you can, use discretion; when you can't, use a club.



DISPOSITION

One eastern railroad has a regular form for reporting accidents to animals on its right of way. Recently a track foreman had the killing of a cow to report. In answer to the question, "Disposition of carcass?" he wrote: "Kind and gentle."

There was one man who had a reputation for being even tempered. He was always cross.



DISTANCES

A regiment of regulars was making a long, dusty march across the rolling prairie land of Montana last summer. It was a hot, blistering day and the men, longing for water and rest, were impatient to reach the next town.

A rancher rode past.

"Say, friend," called out one of the men, "how far is it to the next town?"

"Oh, a matter of two miles or so, I reckon," called back the rancher. Another long hour dragged by, and another rancher was encountered.

"How far to the next town?" the men asked him eagerly.

"Oh, a good two miles."

A weary half-hour longer of marching, and then a third rancher.

"Hey, how far's the next town?"

"Not far," was the encouraging answer. "Only about two miles."

"Well," sighed an optimistic sergeant, "thank God, we're holdin' our own, anyhow!"



DIVORCE

"When a woman marries and then divorces her husband inside of a week what would you call it?"

"Taking his name in vain."—Princeton Tiger.



DOGS

LADY (to tramp who had been commissioned to find her lost poodle)—"The poor little darling, where did you find him?"

TRAMP—"Oh, a man 'ad 'im, miss, tied to a pole, and was cleaning the windows wiv 'im!"

A family moved from the city to a suburban locality and were told that they should get a watchdog to guard the premises at night. So they bought the largest dog that was for sale in the kennels of a neighboring dog fancier, who was a German. Shortly afterward the house was entered by burglars who made a good haul, while the big dog slept. The man went to the dog fancier and told him about it.

"Veil, vat you need now," said the dog merchant, "is a leedle dog to vake up the big dog."

"Dogs is mighty useful beasts They might seem bad at first They might seem worser right along But when they're dead They're wurst."

—Ellis Parker Butler.

"My dog took first prize at the cat show."

"How was that?"

"He took the cat."—Judge.

FAIR VISITOR—"Why are you giving Fido's teeth such a thorough brushing?"

FOND MISTRESS—"Oh! The poor darling's just bitten some horrid person, and, really, you know, one can't be too careful."—Life.

"Do you know that that bulldog of yours killed my wife's little harmless, affectionate poodle?"

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Would you be offended if I was to present him with a nice brass collar?"

Fleshy Miss Muffet Sat down on Tuffet, A very good dog in his way; When she saw what she'd done, She started to run— And Tuffet was buried next day.

—L.T.H.

William J. Stevens, for several years local station agent at Swansea, R. I., was peacefully promenading his platform one morning when a rash dog ventured to snap at one of William's plump legs. Stevens promptly kicked the animal halfway across the tracks, and was immediately confronted by the owner, who demanded an explanation in language more forcible than courteous.

"Why," said Stevens when the other paused for breath, "your dog's mad."

"Mad! Mad! You double-dyed blankety-blank fool, he ain't mad!"

"Oh, ain't he?" cut in Stevens. "Gosh! I should be if any one kicked me like that!"

One would have it that a collie is the most sagacious of dogs, while the other stood up for the setter.

"I once owned a setter," declared the latter, "which was very intelligent. I had him on the street one day, and he acted so queerly about a certain man we met that I asked the man his name, and—"

"Oh, that's an old story!" the collie's advocate broke in sneeringly. "The man's name was Partridge, of course, and because of that the dog came to a set. Ho, ho! Come again!"

"You're mistaken," rejoined the other suavely. "The dog didn't come quite to a set, though almost. As a matter of fact, the man's name was Quayle, and the dog hesitated on account of the spelling!"—P. R. Benson.

The more one sees of men the more one likes dogs.

See also Dachshunds.



DOMESTIC FINANCE

"Talk about Napoleon! That fellow Wombat is something of a strategist himself."

"As to how?"

"Got his salary raised six months ago, and his wife hasn't found it out yet."—Washington Herald.

A Lakewood woman was recently reading to her little boy the story of a young lad whose father was taken ill and died, after which he set himself diligently to work to support himself and his mother. When she had finished her story she said:

"Dear Billy, if your papa were to die, would you work to support your dear mamma?"

"Naw!" said Billy unexpectedly.

"But why not?"

"Ain't we got a good house to live in?"

"Yes, dearie, but we can't eat the house, you know."

"Ain't there a lot o' stuff in the pantry?"

"Yes, but that won't last forever."

"It'll last till you git another husband, won't it? You're a pretty good looker, ma!"

Mamma gave up right there.

"I am sending you a thousand kisses," he wrote to his fair young wife who was spending her first month away from him. Two days later he received the following telegram: "Kisses received. Landlord refuses to accept any of them on account." Then he woke up and forwarded a check.

See also Trouble.



DOMESTIC RELATIONS

There was a young man of Dunbar, Who playfully poisoned his Ma; When he'd finished his work, He remarked with a smirk, "This will cause quite a family jar."

See also Families; Marriage.



DRAMA

The average modern play calls in the first act for all our faith, in the second for all our hope, and in the last for all our charity.—Eugene Walter.

The young man in the third row of seats looked bored. He wasn't having a good time. He cared nothing for the Shakespearean drama.

"What's the greatest play you ever saw?" the young woman asked, observing his abstraction.

Instantly he brightened.

"Tinker touching a man out between second and third and getting the ball over to Chance in time to nab the runner to first!" he said.

LARRY—"I like Professor Whatishisname in Shakespeare. He brings things home to you that you never saw before."

HARRY—"Huh! I've got a laundryman as good as that."

I think I love and reverence all arts equally, only putting my own just above the others.... To me it seems as if when God conceived the world, that was Poetry; He formed it, and that was Sculpture; He colored it, and that was Painting; He peopled it with living beings, and that was the grand, divine, eternal Drama.—Charlotte Cushman.

Two women were leaving the theater after a performance of "The Doll's House."

"Oh, don't you love Ibsen?" asked one, ecstatically. "Doesn't he just take all the hope out of life?"



DRAMATIC CRITICISM

Theodore Dreiser, the novelist, was talking about criticism.

"I like pointed criticism," he said, "criticism such as I heard in the lobby of a theater the other night at the end of the play."

"The critic was an old gentleman. His criticism, which was for his wife's ears alone, consisted of these words:

"'Well, you would come!'"

Nat Goodwin, the American comedian, when at the Shaftesbury Theatre, London, told of an experience he once had with a juvenile deadhead in a town in America. Standing outside the theater a little time before the performance was due to begin he observed a small boy with an anxious, forlorn look on his face and a weedy-looking pup in his arms.

Goodwin inquired what was the matter, and was told that the boy wished to sell the dog so as to raise the price of a seat in the gallery. The actor suspected at once a dodge to secure a pass on the "sympathy racket," but allowing himself to be taken in he gave the boy a pass. The dog was deposited in a safe place and the boy was able to watch Goodwin as the Gilded Fool from a good seat in the gallery. Next day Goodwin saw the boy again near the theater, so he asked:

"Well, sonny, how did you like the show?"

"I'm glad I didn't sell my dog," was the reply.



DRAMATISTS

"I hear Scribbler finally got one of his plays on the boards."

"Yes, the property man tore up his manuscript and used it in the snow storm scene."

"So you think the author of this play will live, do you?" remarked the tourist.

"Yes," replied the manager of the Frozen Dog Opera House. "He's got a five-mile start and I don't think the boys kin ketch him."—Life.

We all know the troubles of a dramatist are many and varied.

Here's an advertisement taken from a morning paper that shows to what a pass a genius may come in a great city:

"Wanted—A collaborator, by a young playwright. The play is already written; collaborator to furnish board and bed until play is produced."



DRESSMAKERS

WIFE—"Wretch! Show me that letter."

HUSBAND—"What letter?"

WIFE—"That one in your hand. It's from a woman, I can see by the writing, and you turned pale when you saw it."

HUSBAND—"Yes. Here it is. It's your dressmaker's bill."



DRINKING

He who goes to bed, and goes to bed sober, Falls as the leaves do, and dies in October; But he who goes to bed, and does so mellow, Lives as he ought to, and dies a good fellow.

—Parody on Fletcher.



I drink when I have occasion, and sometimes when I have no occasion.—Cervantes.

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.—Shakespeare.

The Frenchman loves his native wine; The German loves his beer; The Englishman loves his 'alf and 'alf, Because it brings good cheer; The Irishman loves his "whiskey straight," Because it gives him dizziness; The American has no choice at all, So he drinks the whole blamed business.

A young Englishman came to Washington and devoted his days and nights to an earnest endeavor to drink all the Scotch whiskey there was. He couldn't do it, and presently went to a doctor, complaining of a disordered stomach.

"Quit drinking!" ordered the doctor.

"But, my dear sir, I cawn't. I get so thirsty."

"Well," said the doctor, "whenever you are thirsty eat an apple instead of taking a drink."

The Englishman paid his fee and left. He met a friend to whom he told his experience.

"Bally rot!" he protested. "Fawncy eating forty apples a day!"

If you are invited to drink at any man's house more than you think is wholesome, you may say "you wish you could, but so little makes you both drunk and sick; that you should only be bad company by doing so."—Lord Chesterfield.