More Toasts
by Marion Dix Mosher
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"One o'clock. Deacon Jones very ill."

"Two o'clock. Deacon Jones is worse and sinking rapidly."

"Three o'clock. Deacon Jones dead."

A traveling man passing by that evening read the bulletin and, seeing no one in sight, added at the bottom:

"Seven o'clock. Great excitement in Heaven. Deacon Jones has not arrived. The worst is feared."

"Ma, do cows and bees go to heaven?"

"Mercy, child, what a question! Why?"

"Cause if they don't, the milk and honey the preacher said was up there must be all canned stuff."

"Say, mama, was baby sent down from heaven?"

"Why, yes."

"Um. They like to have it quiet up there, don't they?"

See also Future life.


See Future life.


"What is heredity?"

"Something a father believes in until his son starts to act like a fool."


"So you won the Distinguished Service Cross for conspicuous bravery in extreme danger. Didn't you feel shaky?"

"Not until I lined up for the general to pin it on me."

An average American soldier.

One opportunity to serve.

Equal parts of danger and courage.

A sense of duty.

A hot enemy fire.

The other day I met in the street a man in uniform. His coat sleeves were embroidered from shoulder to cuff with bars, stripes, insignia and chevrons of the most gorgeous colors and fantastic designs. My curiosity was too much for me, and I was about to stop and question him, when I discovered he had already halted and was bursting to tell me.

"Yes," he announced, "they are every one authorized by the War Department. These three octangular triangles of orange mean my third cousin did a good deal of war work. These ten vertical mauve stripes are ten embarkations; the ten horizontal stripes denote ten times sea-sick."

"Then you never reached France," I sympathized.

"No, but this gray dot indicates extreme disappointment. Now these pink crosses—"

But I hurried off, and almost ran into a limping soldier with only a small gold chevron on each arm. My curiosity again overcame me. "My boy, how came you by those?" I asked, feeling assured he could not say much about only two chevrons. He did not.

"Well," he answered as he passed, "I was abroad for a while, and I happened to kind of go a little lame."

Upon a wharf where the Yanks were disembarking a reporter buttonholed a rosy-cheeked private.

"Are you one of the heroes?" the newspaper man asked, with notebook ready to record a stirring tale of heroism.

"Naw," was the blushing reply. "I'm only a common doughboy. But the lieutenant, over there, is one."

To the officer indicated went the reporter.

"I'm told you're a hero, sir," he said.

"No," laughed the lieutenant. "I merely happened to be on the job when something needed to be done, and I did it. However, I can refer you to the simon-pure article." And he pointed out a sergeant with three wound stripes upon his sleeve.

"Not guilty," declared the sergeant, when questioned. Then, his eyes kindling with admiration, he waved toward a figure standing somewhat aside from the throng. "Talk to the major. You couldn't string on a fat man's bay window the medals he's got, and ought to have."

"Nonsense!" ejaculated the major, amusedly.

"That's what you all say!" cried the reporter, in despair. "Is hero-ing a criminal career?"

Chuckling, the major beckoned to an ebony-hued stalwart.

"Rastus," the major said, when the Senegambian saluted and stepped forward, "this gentleman is looking for a hero. I think you are one."

"You might say I am, sah. Dey wasn't a wusser, dangerouser job in de army dan mine."

"What was it?" eagerly inquired the reporter.

"Mistah," Rastus solemnly informed him. "I drove a mule team plumb thoo dis wah."

Terrell Love Holliday.

"How perfectly splendid to think you're one of the heroes who went over there to die for your country!"

"Like h—- I did, ma'am! I went over to make some other guy die for his."—Life.

FATHER (endeavoring to blend instruction and amusement)—"Yes, children, Mr. Lloyd George saved his country just as Joan of Arc saved France."

BRIGHT CHILD—"And when are they going to burn Mr. Lloyd George, daddy?"


See Cost of living.


Despite the chilly spring day little Wilbur was out playing without his coat. This worried a neighbor, but her advice went unheeded. Finally, she said: "Wilbur, go home and get your coat, and when you come back I'll give you a piece of cake."

The bribe worked, and Wilbur soon returned with his coat on and was duly rewarded. Next day he knocked at the door to announce significantly:

"I ain't got my coat on today."


After reading the famous poem, "The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers," to the class, the teacher said: "As a drawing exercise suppose you each draw, according to your imagination, a picture of Plymouth Rock."

All but one little fellow set to work. He paused and finally raised his hand.

"What is it, Edgar?" the teacher asked.

"Please, ma'am," Edgar piped out, "do you want us to draw a hen or a rooster?"


The beauty of the house is order; the blessing of the house is contentment; the glory of the house is hospitality; the crown of the house is godliness.

Home—The place where we are treated best and grumble most.

Home—A world of strife shut out, and a world of love within.

It is said that home is the place where a man hangs his hat, but with a woman it is different. There is a rocker with a worn cushion, a clock that doesn't keep time, a quilt that is worn, a strip of carpet that is faded, a few old family pictures, an old-fashioned vase, a meat platter, a cup and a few plates that do not match and are chipped around the edges. These, and a few more, known in feminine language as "her own things," are needed, in the final reckoning, to make a place a home for a woman.

"Some day you'll be rich enough to retire from business."

"Give up my nice, pleasant office and stay home?" rejoined Mr. Growcher. "I should say not."


TIPS—"Why not try a home-brew receipt?"

TAPS—"It's this way. If I meet a friend under the influence of the forbidden, I'm afraid he isn't able to give the receipt correctly, and when I meet a man who has had a few drinks and doesn't feel any happier, I'll be darned if I want the receipt."

LADY—"You say your father was injured in an explosion? How did it happen?"

CHILD—"Well, mother says it was too much yeast, but father says it was too little sugar."

Country people call them cellars; city people call them basements, and some people should call them breweries.

"Did you ever hear about that home brew blowing up?"

"Yes," replied Uncle Bill Bottletop. "If the appropriations for prohibition enforcement don't hold up, maybe we can curb the liquor evil by bringin' it under the regulations provided for handling high explosives."

A Detroit firm advertises "The ideal still survives." A good many people interested suddenly in the raisin crop, who have been trying to construct home-made stills, will be hard to convince that any still survives—much less an ideal one.


See Beauty, Personal.


"You ought to be contented and not fret for your old home," said the mistress as she looked into the dim eyes of her young Swedish maid. "You are earning good wages, your work is light, every one is kind to you, and you have plenty of friends here."

"Yas'm," said the girl, "but it is not the place where I do be that makes me vera homesick; it is the place where I don't be."


"No," said the old man, sternly. "I will not do it. Never have I sold anything by false representation, and I will not begin now."

For a moment he was silent, and the clerk who stood before him could see that the better nature of his employer was fighting strongly for the right.

"No," said the old man, again. "I will not do it. It is an inferior grade of shoe, and I will never pass it off as anything better. Mark it, 'A Shoe Fit for a Queen,' and put it in the window. A queen does not have to do much walking."

George, the elderly waiter, entered the office of the famous solicitor who usually lunched at his table in a certain restaurant and asked to see the chief.

"Well, George," asked the man of law, when the waiter was shown in, "what can I do for you? In trouble?"

"No, sir, not exactly that; but I've got a chance of a good job at the Hotel Splendide, and I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to write me a testimonial, saying I'm a good waiter, and honest, and so forth, sir?"

"Well, George, of course I know you're a good waiter, but I don't know anything else about you. How do I know, for example, that you're honest?"

"Oh, well, I am, sir! You'll be quite safe in saying that."

"Very good. I'll write it, then."

"Thank you very much indeed, sir! And if at any time you come to the Splendide and want a good lunch or dinner, be sure to come to my tables, and I'll make you out a bill at half-price."

Aye, sir: to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man pick'd out of two thousand.—Shakespeare.

Two piles of apples lay on the ground. One contained a large-sized and rosy selection; the fruit of the other was green and small.

"Large on the top, sir, and small at the bottom?" inquired the new assistant of his master, as he prepared to fill a barrel.

"Certainly not!" replied the farmer, virtuously. "Honesty is the best policy, my boy. Put the little apples at the top, and the large ones at the bottom."

The assistant complied. His master was evidently as green as his greenest fruit.

"Is the barrel full, my lad?" asked the farmer.

"Yes," answered the assistant.

"Good." said the farmer, "Now turn it upside down and label it!"

The man who fails to keep his word, soon finds that he cannot give his word.

"Do you believe honesty is the best policy?" "Well, it has the deferred dividend feature."

A Vermonter had returned home after a visit to Boston. Someone asked him what he thought of the big city.

"It's a fine place, all right, but the folks there ain't honest," he replied.

"Not honest! Where'd you get that idea?"

"Why, I bought a roll of pins there labeled 'A Hundred Pins for Five Cents,' and coming home on the train I counted them; they were eleven short."


Two men thrown together at a horse-show were discussing their adventures with the equine tribe.

"A horse ran away with me once, and I wasn't out for two months," remarked the man with the Trilby hat.

"That's nothing!" replied the man with the bowler. "I ran away with a horse once, and I wasn't out for two years!"

A motor car was held up in a busy street by a wagon drawn by two horses. The driver seemed in no hurry to get out of the way, and at length one of the occupants of the motor car exclaimed sarcastically:

"Here, I say, my man! What are those things you are driving? What are they for, I should like to know?"

"These 'ere, guv'nor?" answered the carter, flicking the horses with his whip. "Oh, these is wot is commonly called 'orses, an' they're sometimes used fer to take motorists to the 'orspital!"

"Do you think the motor will entirely supersede the horse?"

"I hope not," replied Farmer Corntossel. "There must be some market fur hay. I depend on what I make on hay to buy gasoline."


Uncle Tobey was an hospitable soul. He wanted no guest in his house to be stinted. "Have some, have some," he invited cordially at the supper-table, sending around the platter for the third time; "we're going to give it to the pigs anyway."—Judge.

Blest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire. Blest that abode, where want and pain repair, And every stranger finds a ready chair; Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd, Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jest or pranks, that never fail, Or sigh with pity of some mournful tale, Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good.


It is not the quantity of the meat but the cheerfulness of the guests which makes the feast.—Clarendon.

BAILIE MCTAVISH—"An' so ye leave Glesca' on Monday. What are ye daein the morrow nicht?"

MR. JARVIE—"Tomorrow, Thursday, I've no engagement."

BAILIE—"An' the nixt nicht."

MR. J.—"I'm free then, too."

BAILIE—"An' what will ye be daein on Saturday?"

MR. J.—"On Saturday I dine with the Buchans."

BAILIE—"What a peety! Aa wanted ye to take dinner wi'us on Saturday."

A Quaker had gotten himself into trouble with the authorities and the sheriff called to escort him to the lock-up.

"Is your husband in?" he inquired of the good wife who came to the door.

"My husband will see thee," she replied. "Come in."

The sheriff entered, was bidden to make himself at home, and was hospitably entertained for half an hour, but no husband appeared. At last the sheriff grew impatient.

"Look here," said he, "I thought you said your husband would see me."

"He has seen thee," was the calm reply, "but he did not like thy looks and has gone another way."

"My wife thinks we run a hospitable house. What's your notion of a hospitable house?"

"Oh, for me, I feel that it's a hospitable house when in the come and go of company enough umbrellas are left to keep it supplied."


A German, whose wife was ill at the Seney Hospital, Brooklyn, called the first evening she was there and inquired how she was getting along. He was told that she was improving.

Next day he called again, and was told she was still improving. This went on for some time, each day the report being that his wife was improving.

Finally one day he called and said:

"How iss my wife?"

"She's dead."

He went out and met a friend, and the friend said:

"Well, how is your wife?"

"She's dead"

"Ooh! How terrible! What did she die of?"




Once upon a time there lived an elderly millionaire who had four nephews. Desiring to make one of these his heir, he tested their cleverness.

He gave to each a $100.00 bill, with the request that they hide the bills for a year in the city of New York.

Any of them who should succeed in finding the hidden bill at the end of the year should share in the inheritance.

The year being over, the four nephews brought their reports.

The first, deeply chagrined, told how he had put his bill in the strongest and surest safe deposit vault, but, alas, clever thieves had broken in and stolen it.

The second had put his in charge of a tried and true friend. But the friend has proved untrustworthy and had spent the money.

The third had hidden his bill in a crevice in the floor of his room, but a mouse had nibbled it to bits to build her nest.

The fourth nephew calmly produced his $100.00 bill, as crisp and as fresh as when it had been given him.

"And where did you hide it?" asked his uncle.

"Too easy! I stuck it in a hotel bible."

Carolyn Wells.


A bellhop passed through the hall of the St. Francis Hotel whistling loudly.

"Young man," said Manager Woods sternly, "you should know that it is against the rules of this hotel for an employee to whistle while on duty."

"I am not whistling, sir," replied the boy, "I'm paging Mrs. Jones' dog."

A tall, gaunt-looking person recently entered a hotel in a town where several fires had occurred and applied for a room at a price which entitled him to lodging on the top floor of the house. Among his belongings the proprietor noticed a coil of rope, and asked what it was for.

"That's a fire escape," said the man, "I carry one with me so I can let myself down from the window without troubling anyone."

"Good plan," said the landlord, "but guests with fire escapes like that pay in advance at this hotel."

DEPARTING GUEST—"Enjoyed ourselves? Oh yes! What I'm upset about is leaving your hotel so soon after I've bought it."

A commercial traveler, on leaving a certain hotel, said to the proprietor: "Pardon me, but with what material do you stuff the beds in your establishment?"

"Why," said the landlord, proudly, "with the best straw to be found in the whole country!"

"That," returned the traveler, "is very interesting. I now know whence the straw came that broke the camel's back."

ARCHITECT (enthusiastically showing plans of hotel)—"On the first floor, next to the dining-room, is the ladies' smoking-room; over here is the men's writing-room; here is the blue lecture-room where the suffrage meetings are to be held; next to it is the pink tea-room. Directly over it, on the second floor, is the music-room, where the Tuesday recitals will be given; behind it is the little theater for the Saturday tableaux. The ballroom is on the third floor, and on the fourth—"

HOTEL PROPRIETOR (interrupting)—"That's all very nice. But where are the guests' rooms?"

ARCHITECT—"Bless my soul! I forgot all about them!"

"John, dear," wrote a lady from the Capital, "I enclose the hotel bill."

"Dear Jane, I enclose a check," wrote John in reply; "but please don't buy any more hotels at this price—they are robbing you!"

A traveler who alighted from the train in a small Southern town was greeted by a colored porter, who shouted at him, "Palace hotel, boss!" and grabbed the traveler's baggage, and the latter said, "Wait a minute, Rastus. Is this hotel American or European?" and Rastus replied, "I dunno, boss, but I thinks they'se Irish."

"Where's that hotel that used to advertise, 'All the Comforts of Home for One Dollar'?"

"Busted up. The hotel opposite put up a sign: 'None of the Discomforts of Home for Two Dollars.'"

Miss Muffit had recently joined the "Band of Sisters for Befriending Burglars" and was being shown over a prison for the first time.

One prisoner, evidently a man of education, interested her more than the others. He rose and bowed to her when she entered his cell, apologizing for the poorness of his apartment.

Miss Muffit could not help wondering how this refined man came within the clutches of the law. In fact, as she was leaving his cell she said:

"May I ask you why you are in this distressing place?"

"Madam," he replied, "I am here for robbery at a seaside hotel!"

"How very interesting!" said Miss Muffit. "Were you—er—the proprietor?"

"Would you like some views of the hotel to send to your friends?"

"Sir," said the disgruntled guest, "I presume it will be better for me to keep my views to myself."

"We will do our best, Mr. Sprawl, to make you feel at home here," smiled the hotel clerk, who had acquired the idea that it pays to be good and kind to all.

"You needn't to mind, sir," replied Sanford Sprawl, of Puxico. "That's just what I came away from home to get a change from. What I want is to feel like I'm at a hotel."


After trying in vain for months to get a house, Brown set out one day with a find-a-house-or-die look on his face. He wandered about all day without being successful, till at last his steps led him to the river.

"Ah!" he said in utter despair, "how tempting it looks!" He was almost inclined to plunge in and end it all.

All of a sudden he heard a splash and, looking around, he saw his friend Green struggling in the water. Without attempting to save him he rushed off to the local house agent.

"Quick!" he gasped. "Green has fallen in the river. Can I have his house?"

"Sorry," said the house agent. "I've already let it to the man who pushed him in."

The difficulty of finding a house is not exclusively an eastern problem. Out in Kansas, for instance, a native observed a stranger looking around and ventured to say, "Good morning, sir, House hunting?"

"Yes," replied the stranger. "I wonder if it could have blown this far."

JUDGE—"You are accused of speeding. What have you to say in your defense?"

PRISONER—"I heard of a house for rent and was trying to get there first."

"The case is dismissed."

The taxi-driver turned at the end of the second hour and eyed his client suspiciously.

"Are you taking me by the hour or by the day?" he asked.

"By the year," responded the haggard passenger. "I'm looking for a home!"

VISITOR—"What's that new building on the hill yonder?"

FARMER—"Well, if I find a tenant for it, it's a bungalow; if I don't, it's a barn."

OWENS—"My landlord has ordered me out because I can't pay my rent."

BOWENS—"Glad I met you. So has mine. Let's change quarters."

MR. MCNAB (after having his lease read over to him)—"I will not sign that: I havena' been able tae keep Ten Commandments for a mansion in Heaven, an' I'm no' guan tae tackle aboot a hundred for twa rooms in the High Street!"

See also Apartments.


OLD LADY (to mendicant)—"But—my good man, your story has such a hollow ring."

"Yes, missis—that's the natural result of speaking with an empty stummick."

Hunger is the teacher of the arts and the bestower of invention.—Persius.


As the camper was cleaning his gun, along came a woodsman.

"Been hunting today?" he asked.


"Shot anything?"

"I don't know yet. I'm waiting for the rest of the party to get into camp so we can call the roll."

FIRST SIMPLE NIMROD—"Hey, don't shoot. Your gun isn't loaded."

HIS PARTNER—"Can't help that; the bird won't wait."

The very small boy with the very large gun was standing in a country road.

"What are you hunting, bub?" asked a passer-by.

"I dunno," he replied, frankly. "I ain't seen it yet."


See Haste.


To say of a man that he will make a good husband is much the same sort of a compliment as to say of a horse that he is perfectly safe for a woman to drive.—Puck.

If you marry a widow it is safe to take one whose first trial served a term in jail, then you won't have the perfect example always held up before you.

"Mother," asked Tommy, "do fairy tales always begin with 'Once upon a time'?"

"No, dear, not always; they sometimes begin with 'My love, I have been detained at the office tonight'"

"William," snapped the dear lady, viciously, "didn't I hear the clock strike two as you came in?" "You did, my dear. It started to strike ten, but I stopped it to keep it from waking you up."

"I hear you are going to marry Archie Blueblood?" said one society woman to another. "Is it true?"

"Marry him?" exclaimed the other. "Not likely. What on earth could I do with him? He's rejected from the Army, he can't ride, he can't play tennis, golf, nor, for that matter, can he even drive a motor-car!"

"Oh!" said the friend, "but he can swim beautifully, you know."

"Swim, indeed! Now, I ask you, would you like a husband you had to keep in an aquarium?"

To observe Washington's birthday, in a fitting manner, a teacher in a Yonkers school told in detail the life of the first President of the United States. She emphasized his honesty, sincerity, bravery and self-reliance. At the close of her discourse, she put this question to the class:

"What high office in a nation could such a wonderful man fill?"

A flaxen-haired boy of ten, sitting in a rear seat, raised his hand and blushingly replied: "He'd make a nice husband."

"How's your husband getting along, Mrs. Fogarty?"

"Well, sometimes he's better an' sometimes he's worse, but from the way he growls an' takes on whin he's better, Oi think he's better whin he's worse."

SHE—"I wonder why men lie so?"

HE—"Because their wives are so inquisitive."

HUBBY—"I don't believe in parading my virtues."

WIFE—"You couldn't, anyway. It takes quite a number to make a parade."

"Why do you feed every tramp who comes along? They never do any work for you."

"No," said his wife, "but it is quite a satisfaction to me to see a man eat a meal without finding fault with the cooking."

The husband arrived home much later than usual "from the office." He took off his boots and stole into the bedroom. His wife began to stir. Quickly the panic-stricken man went to the cradle of his first-born and began to rock it vigorously.

"What are you doing there, Robert?" queried his wife.

"I've been sitting here for nearly two hours trying to get this baby to sleep," he growled.

"Why, Robert, I've got him here in bed with me," replied his wife.

A teacher was trying to explain the dangers of overwork to one of the smaller pupils.

"Now, Tommy," she pursued, "if your father were busy all day and said he would have to go back to the office at night, what would he be doing?"

"That's what ma wants to know."

HE—"If I were to die you'd never get another husband like me."

SHE—"What makes you imagine I should ever want another like you?"

MRS. BLANK (to laundress)—"And how is your newly married daughter getting on, Mrs. Brown?"

MRS. BROWN—"Oh, nicely, thank you, ma'am. She finds her husband a bit dull; but then, as I tells her, the good ones are dull."

JUNKMAN—"Any rags, paper, old iron to sell?"

HEAD OF HOUSE (irately)—"No—go away—my wife's away for the summer."

JUNKMAN (smiling)—"Any empty bottles?"

Situation: Buglar, caught red-handed, arraigned in court

WOMAN—"The sorce o' the feller! 'E pretended to be my 'usband and called out, 'It's all right, darlin'—it's only me.' It was the word 'darlin' wot give 'im away."—Punch (London).

"Henry," said his father-in-law, as he called his daughter's spouse into the library and locked the door, "you have lived with me now for over two years."

"Yes, father."

"In all that time I haven't asked you a penny for board."

"No, sir." (Wonderingly.)

"In all your little family quarrels I have always taken your part."

"Always, sir."

"I have even paid some of your bills."

"A good many, father."

"Then the small favor I am about to ask you will no doubt be granted?"

"Most certainly, sir."

"Thanks. Then I want you to tell your mother-in-law that those tickets for the supper-club dance which she picked up in my room this morning must have accidentally fallen out of your pocket, and we'll call it square!"

One morning, Mollie, the colored maid, appeared before her mistress, carrying, folded in a handkerchief, a five-dollar gold piece and all her earthly possessions in the way of jewelry.

This package she proferred her mistress, with the request that Miss Sallie take it for safe keeping.

"Why, Mollie!" exclaimed the mistress in surprise. "Are you going away?"

"Naw'm, I ain' goin' nowheres," Mollie declared. "But me an' Jim Harris we wuz married this mawnin'. Yas.'m, Jim, he's a new nigger in town. You don' know nothin' 'bout him, Miss Sallie. I don' know nothin' 'bout him myself he's er stranger to me."

Miss Sallie glanced severely at the little package of jewelry.

"But, Mollie," she demanded, "don't you trust him?"

"Yas'm," replied Mollie, unruffled. "Cose I trus' him, personally—but not wid ma valuables."

It is necessary to be almost a genius to make a good husband.—Balzac.

Jennie, the colored maid, arrived one morning with her head swathed in bandages—the result of an argument with her hot-tempered spouse.

"Jennie," said her mistress, "your husband treats you outrageously. Why don't you leave him?"

"Well, I don' 'zactly wants to leave him."

"Hasn't he dragged you the length of the room by your hair?" demanded her mistress.

"Yas'm he has done dat."

"Hasn't he choked you into insensibility?"

"Yas'm he sho has choked me."

"And now doesn't he threaten to split your head with an ax?"

"Yas'm he has done all dat," agreed Jennie, "but he ain' done nothin' yet so bad I couldn't live wid him."

See also Carelessness; Domestic finance.


Hypocrisy will serve as well To propagate a church, as zeal; As persecution and promotion Do equally advance devotion: So round white stones will serve, they say, As well as eggs to make hens lay.

Samuel Butler.

There is no vice so simple, but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.


Thus 'tis with all—their chief and constant care Is to seem everything but what they are.


Dare to be true. Nothing can need a lie; A fault which needs it most grows two thereby.



Father, teaching his six-year-old son arithmetic by giving a problem to his wife, begs his son to listen:

FATHER—"Mother, if you had a dollar and I gave you five more, what would you have?"

MOTHER (replying absently)—"Hysterics."


See Fords.


A professor noted among his students for the caustic wit had in one of his classes, one year, a young man who was both ignorant and conceited. One morning he made a specially self-satisfied display of both these characteristics, and the professor said he would like to see him at the end of the hour.

When he came up after the lecture, the professor asked: "You are Mr. Junkins?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you a visiting card?"

"I—I—yes, sir," stammered the puzzled student.

"Then, Mr. Junkins," the professor said dryly, "write down on your visiting card all that you know, and bring it to me tomorrow."


Returning home from a scientific meeting one night, a college professor, who was noted for his concentration of thought, was still pondering deeply on the subject that had been under discussion. Upon entering his room he heard a noise that appeared to come from under the bed.

"Is there any one there?" he asked, absently.

"No, professor," answered the intruder, knowing his peculiarities.

"That's strange," murmured the professor. "I was almost sure I heard some one under the bed."


Imitation is a confession of limitation.

Imitation is the sincerest of flattery.—Colton.


See Board of health.


Put in the Bill

When in Canada last, Mr. Kipling was so dissatisfied with the hotel accommodations that he gave the landlord a severe call-down. Said he: "Of all the hotels under the shining sun, I have never been in one that for unmitigated, all-round, unendurable discomfort could equal yours."

After the landlord had withdrawn in great indignation, Kipling asked for his bill, and he discovered that the last item was, "To impudence—three dollars."

He that has but impudence, To all things has a fair pretence; And puts among his wants but shame, To all the world may lay his claim.


There is no better provision for life than impudence and a brazen face.—Menander.


We saw Diogenes the other day with his lantern.

"Still looking for an honest man?" we asked.

He shook his head mournfully.

"No. I gave that up long ago. I wish I'd stuck to it. It wasn't half so hopeless as what I'm doing now."

He certainly did look despondent, and our hearts went out to him.

"What are you looking for now, then?" we asked.

He sighed. "I'm looking for a congressman who made out his income tax without anybody's help."

We don't know who it was who wrote the income-tax blank, but we are certain that he stole his style either from Robert Browning or Henry James.

Income Tax Tips

(All replies to questions in this column given free of tax.)

PUZZLED—Don't be bluffed. Simply put all extra leaves in dining-room table, grasp tax return firmly with both hands, and throw it flat on its back. When you have it down brand it on first page with hot ink.

C.H.—Yes, algebra may be used in figuring your return. Personally we employ trigonometry, altho many prefer calculus and a couple of lawyers.

TAXPAYER—Your problem is as clear as a Chinese laundryticket. Simply deduct the net profit of losses (plus inventories at end of year) and add income from salaries, wages, bonuses, director's fees, and pensions. Nothing to it!

J.J.C.—Refer to Table 113 on Page 11, Section 28, Part IV of return. Then if Item 86, Schedule V, line 7, exceeds the sum stated in Item 21, Page 9, Schedule Z, get another blank form.

CONFUSED—No, you should have figured the amounts in Items 34, 60, and 69 as net losses from Wear and Tear, Obsolescense and Depletion Charged Off (see K (2) on Page 8 of Instructions) before entering total in Item 94, Schedule O. It's perfectly simple.

L.F.—Don't worry about your next year's tax. You may not have any income.

See also Profiteers.


Andrew Carnegie was once asked which he considered to be the most important factor in industry—labor, capital, or brains? The canny Scot replied with a merry twinkle in his eye, "Which is the most important leg of a three-legged stool?"

Industry is not only the instrument of improvement, but the foundation of pleasure. He who is a stranger to it may possess, but cannot enjoy; for it is labor only which gives relish to pleasure. It is the appointed vehicle of every good to man. It is the indispensable condition of possessing a sound mind in a sound body.—Blair.

Protected industry, careering far, Detects the cause and cures the rage of war, And sweeps, with forceful arm; to their last graves, Kings from the earth and pirates from the waves.

Joel Barlow.

In every rank, or great or small, 'Tis industry supports us all.


The great end of all human industry is the attainment of happiness.—Hume.

"From what you tell me, Sam, you have been a busy man all your life."

"Yes, sah; yes, sah."

"You've done a great deal in your time and day, Sam, I guess."

"Yes, sah. Dat is, I's done a good lot in mah day, but it was in de boss's time, sah."


A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bank-roll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for.

A small boy was taken to see the new baby, whom he eyed very critically. "Why, he's got no hair, father," was his first remark. The fact was admitted. "And he's got no teeth, father," was the next comment. The circumstances could not be denied. "I tell you what, father," was the final observation, "you've been swindled; he's an old one."

THE VISITOR—"Does your new baby brother cry much, Ethel?"

LITTLE ETHEL—"He cries when you stick pins in him or make faces at him or bounce him up and down. But what can you expect? He's too little to swear."

Maggie had a new baby brother, which everybody agreed was such a baby as had never been seen before. One day the baby was being weighed, and Maggie asked what that was for.

"Oh," said her father, "Uncle George has taken a great fancy to baby, and he's offered to buy him for a shilling an ounce."

Maggie looked startled. "You're not going to sell him, are you, daddy?"

"Of course not, precious," answered daddy, proud to see his little girl loved her brother so.

"No. Keep him till he gets a bit bigger," the child went on; "he'll fetch more money then."


A hospital doctor writes in the Ontario Post that one of his patients had had the flu. He was seen walking around wearily. When he was asked what was wrong, he said: "Ah done had de Spanish flu." "That so?" he was asked; "what is the Spanish flu like, Sam?" "The flu?" said Sam; "don't you all know what de flu is? Why, it's a disease dat makes you sick six months after you gets well."

"Were you very sick with the 'flu,' Rastus?"

"Sick, sick! Man, Ah was so sick mos' ebery night Ah look in dat er casualty list for mah name."


During the battle of Paschendaele a seriously wounded Gordon Highlander was brought into one of the Canadian dressing stations. The surgeon noticed he was wearing a fine gold wrist watch. "Where did you get that, Scotty?" he asked.

Scotty merely smiled at the time, but, on being told that the chances were against him, he later confided the story to the doctor.

"I took a Heine prisoner who was wearin' yon watch. 'Wull ye gie me it?' I eskit him. He shookit his heed. I eskit him the second time. He shookit his heed again. 'For the third and last time, as a gentlemaun,' I sez, 'will ye gie me thot watch?' Heine shookit his head."

"But you got it?"

"Weel efter thot I simply inherited it."


Not Self-Starters

FIRST CITIZEN—"You can't stop a man from thinking!"

SECOND DITTO—"No, but the difficulty is to start him!"


BARK—"So you have been cured of your insomnia? It must be an immense relief."

CARR—"You've said it. Why, I lie awake half the night thinking how I used to suffer from it."


"I wonder will Smithers always allude to his wife so lovingly as 'my own'?"

"Well, she is his own. Everything else in his home he is paying for on the instalment plan."

LADY VISITOR—"Oh, Tommy, you have a nice new suit!"

TOMMY—"Yes, I think the man pa bought it from is sorry he sold it. He's always calling."


THE MAN OF LAW—"But, my dear madam, there is no insurance money for you to draw. Your late husband never insured his life; he only had a policy against fire."

THE WONDERFUL WIDOW—"Precisely. That is the very reason I had him cremated!"

A woman, wearing an anxious expression, called at an insurance office one morning.

"I understand," she said, "that for five dollars I can insure my house for a thousand dollars."

"Yes," replied the agent, "that is right."

"And," continued the woman anxiously, "do you make any inquiries as to the origin of the fire?"

"Certainly," was the prompt reply.

"Oh!" and she turned to leave the office, "I thought there was a catch in it somewhere."

"I say, Jones, I want to insure my coal-yards against fire. What would a policy for $20,000 cost?"

"What coal is it? Same kind as you sent me last?"


"I wouldn't bother insuring it if I were you. It won't burn."

When the agent brought Mrs. Tarley her fire-insurance policy he remarked that it would be well for her to make her first payment at once.

"How much will it be?" she asked.

"About $100. Wait a minute and I'll find the exact amount."

"Oh, how tiresome!" she exclaimed. "Tell the company to let it stand and deduct it from what they will owe me when the house burns down."


"I wish you would tell me," said the agent, who had been a long time on Mr. Snaggs' trail, "what is your objection to having your life insured?"

"Well, I don't mind telling you," replied Snaggs. "The idea of being more valuable dead than alive is distasteful to me."

"What's the matter, old man? You look worried."

"Well, to be honest with you, I am. You know, I took out some life insurance last Thursday."

"Yes," replied the sympathetic friend, "but what has that to do with the wobegone expression on your face?"

"Well, the very next day after I had it written my wife bought a new cook-book. Possibly it's all right, but it certainly looks suspicious."

MR. MANLEY—"Well, my dear, I've had my life insured for five thousand dollars."

MRS. MANLEY—"How very sensible of you! Now I sha'n't have to keep telling you to be so careful every place you go."

"How much life insurance do you think a man ought to carry?"

"Enough to keep his family from want, but not so much as to make them utterly impervious to grief."

HEWITT—"My wife is a cheerful sort of companion."

JEWETT—"How is that?"

HEWITT—"I told her that I had taken out a twenty-year endowment on my life, and she said, that she hoped I wouldn't mature before the policy did."

Two insurance agents—a Yankee and an Englishman—were bragging about their rival methods. The Britisher was holding forth on the system of prompt payment carried out by his people—no trouble, no fuss, no attempt to wriggle out of settlement.

"If the man died tonight," he continued, "his widow would receive her money by the first post tomorrow morning."

"You don't say?" drawled the Yankee. "See here, now, you talk of prompt payment! Waal, our office is on the third floor of a building forty-nine stories high. One of our clients lived in that forty-ninth story, and he fell out of the window. We handed him his check as he passed."

A colored recruit said he intended to take out the full limit of Government insurance, $10,000. On being told by a fellow soldier that he would be foolish to pay on so much when he was likely to be shot in the trenches, he replied: "Huh! I reckon I knows what I's doin.' You-all don't s'pose Uncle Sam is gwine to put a $10,000 man in the first-line trenches, do you?"

See also Salesmen and salesmanship.


A Boston business man has the following schedule of time for interviews hung over his desk:

Book agents—three seconds.

Unclassified bores—thirty ditto.

Golf associates—one hour.

Friends to make a touch (It takes time to explain why you are broke)—five minutes.

People to pay bills—no limit.

Employees wanting increase of salary—one minute.

My wife—never too busy.

Poor relations—always out.

An answer to the query why some United States Employment Service examiners go mad might be found in the following questionnaire filled out by an applicant applying to the Service for employment:

Q. Born? A. Yes; once.

Q. Nativity? A. Baptist.

Q. Married or single? A. Have been both.

Q. Parents alive yet? A. Not yet.

Q. Hair? A. Thin.

Q. Voice? A. Weak.

Q. Healthy? A. Sometimes.

Q. Previous experience? A. No.

Q. Where? A. Different places.

Q. Business? A. Rotten.

Q. Salary expected? A. More.

Q. Drink? A. Not in dry states.

Q. Why do you want job? A. Wife won't work any more.


SMITH—"I see stocks took a drop."

JONES—"Took a drop? I should say they took the whole bottle."

No one should have to coax you into any investment. It either looks good to you or it doesn't. You either want it or you don't. But be sure you are influenced by facts alone.

"Goodness is the only investment that never fails."—Thoreau.

"Time is money," said Uncle Eben; "but jes' the same, de man dat finds himself wif a lot o' time on his hands has made a poor investment."

"Sir, this is a golden opportunity! Small investment, no risk, and enormous returns absolutely sure."

"Then I wouldn't have the heart to deprive you of it."—Life.

THE SUITOR—"I hope, sir, that you will consider me in the nature of an investment, even if I may not pay regular dividends."

THE GIRL'S FATHER—"My dear boy, don't talk of dividends. I shall be glad if you don't levy regular assessments on me."—Life.

TOMMY—"Father, what's the future of the verb 'invest'?"

FATHER (a Congressman)—"Investigation."


We have all heard of the "far flung" British Empire. The only trouble with it is that Ireland was not flung far enough.

"Did you go to the fight last night?"

"No, I went to hear the lecture on Ireland."

"Oh—who won?"


PAT—"After all, it's a great pleasure to be missed by someone."

MIKE—"Shure it is, Pat; if yez can be there t' enjy it."

At Camp Grant there is an Irish sergeant who is quick tempered. One day when he was trying to drill a squad of raw recruits he suddenly became angry and exclaimed: "Halt! Just come over here, all of ye, and look at yourselves! It's a fine line ye're keeping, isn't it?"

"Pat, what's that piece of blank paper you have in your hand?" asked one Irishman of another.

"Oh, that's a letter from my wife."

"How do you mean a letter from your wife? Sure, there's no writing on it."

"Of course not. The missus and myself are not on speaking terms."

O'HOULIHAN—"Pwhut's a pessimist, Mike?"

MULDOON—"He's a feller pwhat burns his bridges behind him an' thin crosses thim before he comes to thim."

"Mrs. Flanagan," said the Landlord, "I've decided to raise your rent."

"Ah, now," beamed Mrs. Flanagan. "It's the darlint ye certinly are. I wor wonderin' how I cud raise it meself, sur."

BLONDINE—"Isn't Bennie Beanbrough the thick one?"

BRUNETTA—"He is all of that."

"I said to him 'every time I open my mouth I put my foot in it—'"

"Uh huh!"

"And right away the poor fish looked down at my feet."

An Irishman who is noted for his wit went into a public-house the other day and called for a glass of beer. The tumbler was not full enough for Pat's satisfaction, so he quietly asked the publican how many barrels of beer he sold in a week.

"Ten," replied the publican.

"I think," replied Pat, "if yer stand me a pint I could put yez on a plan to sell eleven barrels a week."

"Agreed," said the landlord, handing him a pint. "How now am I to do it?"

Pat, taking a big drink at his new pint, "Always fill your glasses."

An Irishman who was rather too fond of strong drink was asked by the parish priest:

"My son, how do you expect to get into Heaven?"

The Irishman replied:

"Shure, and that's aisy! When I get to the gates of Heaven I'll open the door and shut the door, and open the door and shut the door, an' keep on doing that till St. Peter gets impatient and says, 'For goodness' sake, Mike, either come in or stay out!'"

Soon after a certain judge of the Supreme Court of Rhode Island had been appointed he went down into one of the southern counties to sit for a week. He was well satisfied with himself.

"Mary," he said to the Irish waitress at the hotel where he was stopping, "you've been in this country how long?"

"Two years, sir," she said.

"Do you like it?"

"Sure, it's well enough," answered Mary.

"But, Mary," the judge continued, "you have many privileges in this country, which you'd not have in Ireland. Now at home you would never be in a room with a justice of the supreme court, and chatting familiarly with him."

"But, sure, sir," said Mary, quite in earnest, "you'd never be a judge at home."

"Sure, Oi'll write me name on the back o' your note, guaranteein' ye'll pay ut," said Pat, smiling pleasantly as he indorsed Billup's note, "but Oi know doomed well ye won't pay ut. We'll have a laugh at th' ixpinse of the bank."—Life.

PAT—"This is the foist time inny of these corporations hev done innything to binnefit the workingman."

MIKE—"How is that, Pat?"

PAT—"It is this siven-cint fare. I hev bin walkin' to and from me work and savin' tin cints, and now I kin save fourteen cints."

An Irishman asked at the railway station for a ticket to Philadelphia.

"Do you want a ticket one way or one that will take you there and back?"

The Irishman looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then said: "What the devil do I want a ticket there an' back for when I'm here already?"

An Irish mother reproving her son exclaimed, "I just wish that your father was at home some evening to see how you behave yourself when he is out!"

A tourist reports seeing the following police regulation posted up in Ireland:

"Until further notice every vehicle must carry a light when darkness begins. Darkness begins when the lights are lit."


"'Tis easy to see," said the tourist to Paddy, who was driving him around, "that your parents came from Ireland."

"No, sir, they did not," replied Paddy.

"What! Do you mean to say your parents did not come from Ireland?"

"No, sir; you are mistaken," replied Paddy; "they're there yit."—The Nation.

A zealous excise officer was sent to Ireland to try to locate several "moonshine" stills which were known to exist.

Meeting a native the excise officer approached Pat, saying:

"I'll give you five shillings, Pat, if you can take me to a private still."

"Troth, an' I will sir," was Pat's reply, as he pocketed the money. "Come with me."

For many weary miles over mountain, bog, and moor they tramped, until they came into view of a barracks. Pointing to a soldier seated on a step inside the square, Pat said:

"There you are, sir, my brother Mike; he's been a soldier for ten years, an' he's a private still."

An English clergyman turned to a Scotchman and asked him: "What would you be were you not a Scot?"

The Scotchman said: "Why, an Englishman, of course!"

Then the clergyman turned to a gentleman from Ireland and asked him: "And what would you be were you not an Irishman?"

The man thought a moment and said: "I'd be ashamed of meself!"

Two sailors, an Irishman and a Scotchman, could never agree, and the rest of the crew had become adepts in starting them on an argument. One day "patron saints" was the subject, of which the Scotchman knew nothing and the Irishman just a little.

"Who was the patron saint of Ireland?" said Jock.

"Do you mean to say you don't know?" said Pat. "Why, the holy St. Patrick."

"Well," said Jock in deliberate tones, "hang your St. Patrick."

In a towering rage the Irishman hesitated a second while he thought of something equally offensive, and then burst out with, "And hang your Harry Lauder!"

PAT—"Yis, sorr, wur-rk is scarce, but Oi got a job last Sunday that brought me foive dollars."

MR. GOODMAN—"What! you broke the Sabbath?"

PAT (apologetically)—"Well, sorr, 'twas wan av us had t' be broke."

An Irishman employed in a large factory had taken a day off without permission and seemed likely to lose his job in consequence. When asked by his foreman the next day why he had not turned up the day before, he replied:

"I was so ill, sir, that I could not come to work to save me life."

"How was it, then, Pat, that I saw you pass the factory on your bicycle during the morning?" asked the foreman.

Pat was slightly taken aback, then regaining his presence of mind, he replied:

"Sure, sir, that must have been when I was going for the doctor."

A college graduate was walking down the street one evening with a friend of Irish descent, and, pausing to look up at the starry sky, remarked with enthusiasm:

"How bright Orion is tonight!"

"So that is O'Ryan, is it?" replied Pat. "Well, thank the Lord, there's one Irishman in heaven, anyhow!"

After Patsy Hogan had left Dublin for the country, and rented a cottage with a small backyard, he returned to town and purchased a monkey. Not a word of his scheme would he disclose to his old cronies.

But afterwards he explained. "'Twas like this: I chained the monkey to a stick in me yard, and the coal thrains were passin' all day, and on iv'ry thrain there was a stoker. In one week I had two tons of coal in me cellar, and the monkey was never wanst hit!"

See also Irish bulls.


Pat, answering questions in applying for a job as keeper of the pound, came to the query, "What are rabies and what would you do for them?"

He replied, "Rabies is Jew priests and I wouldn't do a damn thing for them."

Israel Paletzky sold and delivered fresh eggs to a near-by soda dispenser. One day he brought in two dozen eggs in response to an order. Upon counting them, the proprietor of the soda fountain discovered there was an extra egg and offered it back to the aged Jew.

"Oh, dot's all right!" said old Israel. "Neffer mind for chust von egg."

"Well, Izzy, have a drink then."

"All right. I take it a malted milk mit egg."

To the great God Buddha came the representatives of the Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish religions, to pay him homage. Buddha, very flattered, told each of them that if they would express a wish, it would be fulfilled.

"What do you wish?" he asked the Catholic.

The answer was "Glory."

"You shall have it," said Buddha, and turning to the Protestant, "What do you wish?"


"You shall have it."

"And you?" This to the Jew.

"I do not want much," quoth he; "give me the Protestant's address!"

Father Duffy is credited by the New York World with this after-dinner story:

"An old sexton asked me, 'Father, weren't the Apostles Jews?' I said they were. Puzzled, he demanded: 'Then how the deuce did the Jews let go of a good thing like the Catholic Church and let the Eytalians grab it?'"—The Outlook.

In the latest number of the Unpartizan Review Henry Holt tells the following anecdote as used by John Hay:

"Two Jews," he said, "were rescued from a raft by a Cunarder. Both were pretty well used up, when one saw the vessel and murmured, 'A sail, a sail!' The other who was stretched on the raft revived long enough to exclaim, 'Mein Gott! I haf no gatalog!'"


Life of a Joke

1—Appears in LIFE.

2—Copied in newspaper.

3—Used in almanac.

4—Filler on theater program.

5—Furnishes a laugh in vaudeville.

6—After-dinner speaker tells it.

7—Translated in foreign papers.

8—Retranslated back. Goes rounds of American papers once more.

9—Sent to LIFE as original.—Life.

"Pop, what do we mean by a good listener?"

"A good listener, my son, is a man to whom it is possible to tell a funny story without reminding him of one of his own."

JUDGE—"You are charged with profanity."

PRISONER—"How can that be, your honor, when I was arrested for getting rid of it?"

JUDGE—"Ten days for swearing. Thirty days for that joke."

POST—"Scribbler says if you can judge of the future by the past, his work will live for thousands of years."

PARKER—"Let's see. Just what does Scribbler write?"


MRS. LESSNER—"Do you think it's true that poor Lydia hasn't smiled since her marriage?"

MRS. SHORTWELL—"I think it's very likely. You know her husband is a professional humorist."

The good die young was never said of a joke.

Why are jokes preceded by the so-called title, which is virtually the conclusion, or what Twain termed the "nub"? The understanding of it implies the reading of the joke first, and yet it is hung at the very beginning in heavy type, demanding immediate attention. The reader learns rapidly, however, and will not be fooled. Nine times out of ten he will skip the title, complete the article, and then, from habit, unconsciously glance back for the grin in the title, Where the Point Lies.

It was a portly but very polite person who sat next to Jones in a railway station. "Pardon me," said he to Jones, "but what would you say if I sat on your hat?" "Suppose you sit on it and then ask me," sarcastically suggested Jones. "I did," said the portly person, imperturbably.—Judge.

"It must be gratifying to see your jokes copied everywhere."

"What gratifies me most," said the professional humorist, "is that somebody is willing to buy 'em in the first place."

William George Jordan, the educator and writer, uses a crutch. One day, after he had negotiated several blocks, he paused to mop his brow. While mopping with one hand he held his hat in the other and a kindhearted but near-sighted passerby dropped a coin in the hat. "Hey!" said Jordan, "it's legs I want—not alms."

Old Fashioned Fun

When that old joke was new, It was not hard to joke, And puns we now pooh-pooh, Great laughter would provoke.

True wit was seldom heard, And humor shown by few, When reign'd King George the Third, And that old joke was new.

It passed indeed for wit, Did this achievement rare, When down your friend would sit, To steal away his chair.

You brought him to the floor, You bruised him black and blue, And this would cause a roar, When your old joke was new.

W.M. Thackeray.


"I represent The Daily Scoop, At what time did his lordship die?"

"His Lordship is not yet dead."

"Oh, isn't he? Well, then I'll wait."

FIRST WAR-CORRESPONDENT—"Did your dispatch get past the censor?"

SECOND WAR-CORRESPONDENT—"Only the part that wasn't true."

"Well, isn't that all your paper wants?"—Life.

"Getting out a daily column is no picnic," confesses a daily getter-out in the Niles Sun-Star. "If we print jokes, folks say we are silly—if we don't, they say we are too serious. If we publish original matter, they say we lack variety; if we publish things from other papers, they say we are too lazy to write. If we stay in the office, we ought to be out rustling news; if we rustle for news, we are not attending to business in the office. If we wear old clothes, we are insolvents; if we wear new clothes, they are not paid for. What in thunder is a poor editor to do anyhow? Like as not someone will say we swiped this from an exchange. We did."

See also Newspapers.


Judge Ben B. Lindsey of Denver, was lunching one day—it was a very hot day—when a politician paused beside his table "Judge," said he, "I see you're drinking coffee. That's a heating drink. In this weather you want to drink iced drinks, Judge—sharp iced drinks. Did you ever try gin and ginger ale?"

"No," said the Judge, smiling, "but I have tried several fellows who have."

Unfortunately we've mislaid the judge's name, but his courtroom is in New Bedford, Mass. Before him appeared a defendant who, hoping for leniency, pleaded, "Judge, I'm down and out."

Whereupon said the wise Judge:

"You're down, but you're not out. Six months."

The late Gilman Marston, of New Hampshire, was arguing a complicated case, and looked up authorities back to Julius Caesar. At the end of an hour and a half, in the most intricate part of his plea, he was pained to see what looked like inattention. It was as he had feared. The judge was unable to appreciate the nice points of his argument.

"Your Honor," he said, "I beg your pardon; but do you follow me?"

"I have so far," answered the judge, shifting wearily about in his chair, "but I'll say frankly that if I thought I could find my way back, I'd quit right here."

See also Lawyers.


Two San Francisco negroes were discussing the possibilities of being drafted.

"'Tain't gwine do 'em any good to pick on me," said Lemuel, sulkily. "Ah certainly ain't gwine do any fightin'. Ah ain't lost nothin' oveh in France. Ah ain't got any quarrel with anybody, and Uncle Sam kain't make me fight."

Jim pondered over this statement for a moment.

"You' right," he said at length. "Uncle Sam kain't make you fight. But he can take you where de fightin' is, and after that you kin use you' own judgment."

'Tis with our judgments as our watches; none Go just alike, yet each believes his own.


How little do they see what is, who frame Their hasty judgment upon that which seems.


Judgment is forced upon us by experience.



Fresh from Boston, the lawyer in the frontier town had just finished a glowing summing up for the defense. There ensued a long pause, and the Easterner turned in some embarrassment to the judge.

"Your Honor," he asked, "will you charge the jury?"

"Oh, no, I guess not," answered the judge benignantly.

"They ain't got much anyway, so I let them keep all they can make on the side."

The jury filed into the jury-box, and after the twelve seats were filled there still remained one juror standing outside.

"If the Court please," said the Clerk, "they have made a mistake and sent us thirteen jurors instead of twelve. What do you want to do with this extra one?"

"What is your name?" asked the judge of the extra man.

"Joseph A. Braines," he replied.

"Mr. Clerk," said the judge, "take this man back to the jury commissioners and tell them we don't need him as we already have twelve men without Braines."

A suit for damages was being tried not long ago in one of the divisions of a Southern city court. A country lad, seventeen or eighteen years of age, was put on the stand to testify. He gave his testimony in so low a tone that the judge, pointing to the jury, said to him:

"Speak so that these gentlemen can hear you."

"Why," said the witness, with a beaming smile, "are these men interested in the case, too?"

"Judge, Your Honor," cried the prisoner at the bar, "have I got to be tried by a lady jury?"

"Be still!" whispered his attorney.

"I won't be still! Judge, I can't even fool my own wife, let alone twelve strange women. I'm guilty!"

In western Georgia a jury recently met to inquire into a case of suicide. After sitting through the evidence, the twelve men retired, and, after deliberating, returned with the following verdict:

"The jury are all of one mind—temporarily insane."

THE JUDGE (to jury, who have retired several times without agreeing)—"I understand that one juryman prevents your coming to a verdict. In my summing up I have clearly stated the law, and any juryman who obstinately sets his individual opinion against the remaining eleven is totally unfitted for his duties."

THE SOLITARY OBJECTOR—"Please, m'lud, I'm the only man who agrees with you!"

A Time Exposure

A judge's little daughter, who had attended her father's court for the first time, was very much interested in the proceedings. After her return home she told her mother:

"Papa made a speech, and several other men made speeches to twelve men who sat all together, and then these twelve men were put in a dark room to be developed."

During an address to a body of law students ex-President Taft pointed out that too much care cannot be taken in the selection of the jury. In this connection he told of an intelligent-looking farmer who had been examined by both defense and prosecution and was about to be accepted, when the prosecutor chanced to ask:

"Do you believe in capital punishment?"

The farmer hemmed and hawed and after a moment's reflection replied:

"Yes, sir, I do, if it ain't too severe."

THE COURT—"Considering that you are the wife of the prisoner, do you think you are qualified to act as a juror in this case?"

THE LADY—"Well, your honor, if you will only give me a chance, I think I can convince the eleven other jurors that he's guilty."

A tailor who had been wrongfully accused of murder, and who had an excellent defense, seemed very dejected when brought up for trial.

"What's the trouble?" whispered the counsel, observing his client's distress as he surveyed the jurymen.

"It looks very bad for me," said the defendant, "unless some steps are taken to dismiss that jury and get in a new lot. There isn't a man among them but owes me money for clothes."


There is no virtue so truly great and Godlike as justice.—Addison.

A Sunday-school teacher had been telling her class of little boys about crowns of glory and heavenly rewards for good people.

"Now, tell me," she said, at the close of the lesson, "who will get the biggest crown?"

There was silence for a minute or two, then a bright little chap piped out:

"Him wot's got t' biggest 'ead."


I think I know what kindness is tonight. It is a woman standing by a light.

It is a smile when life seems mostly grim. It is a hope when hope has grown quite slim.

It is a hand that's gentle, firm and cool. It is calm sense when you think like a fool.

It is a word of cheer when cheer is gone. It is a lowered blind at garish dawn.

It is a steady presence all the day That pushes lagging, dragging hours away.

I think I know what kindness is tonight. It is a woman standing by a light.

Joseph Andrew Galahad.

The Red-Cross idea that children should be encouraged to breed white mice in order that they might be handed over to doctors for the purpose of medical research, and which recommended these white mice, particularly, on the grounds that they so endeared themselves to the children, can only be paralleled by a story General Baden-Powell once told at a Boy Scout meeting. There was a boy, he related, who went to bed one night without having done his "kind act." Just as he was beginning to feel rather miserable about it, he heard a mouse in a trap in the room.

"What do you think he did?" asked the General, and the audience promptly replied:

"Let it out."

"Not at all," replied the General; "he hadn't done his kind act: he thought of the cat."

Kindness is wisdom. There is none in life But needs it and may learn.


Beauty lives with kindness.—Shakespeare.


Kings and Emperors

Kings and Emperors shall pass Like the sands within the glass.

See them passing even now, Shorn of power, and bent of brow!

Purblind they who saw not Fate Standing by the palace gate; Deaf were they, and their reward Is the Justice of the Lord!

Clinton Scollard.

SAM—"Who was the first Kaiser?"

BULL—"How do I know? Ask me something easy."

SAM—"Something easy?"

BULL—"Yes; ask me who's the last."

The Kaiser said, "What shameful fears I'm now compelled to feel; I stacked the cards for thirty years And then mussed up the deal!"

"Can you tell me," said the Court, addressing Enrico Ufuzzi, under examination at Union Hill, N.J., as to his qualifications for citizenship, "the difference between the powers and prerogatives of the King of England and those of the President of the United States?"

"Yezzir," spoke up Ufuzzi promptly. "King, he got steady job."

In the English royal library at Windsor, in the center of the magazine table, there is a large album of pictures of many eminent and popular men and women of the day. This book is divided into sections—a section for each calling or profession. Some years ago Prince Edward, in looking through the book, came across the pages devoted to the pictures of the rulers of the various nations. Prominently placed among these was a large photograph of Colonel Roosevelt.

"Father," asked Prince Edward, placing his finger on the Colonel's picture, "Mr. Roosevelt is a very clever man, isn't he?"

"Yes, child," answered King George with a smile. "He is a great and good man. In some respects I look upon him as a genius."

A few days later, King George, casually glancing through the album, noticed that President Roosevelt's photograph had been removed and placed in the section devoted to "Men and Women of the Time." On asking the Prince whether he had removed the picture, the latter solemnly replied: "Yes, sir. You told me the other day that you thought Mr. Roosevelt a genius, so I took him away from the kings and emperors and put him among the famous people."


Jack disliked being kissed. One day he had been kissed a lot. Then, to make matters worse, on going to the picture-palace in the evening, instead of his favorite cowboy and Indian pictures there was nothing but a lot more hugging and kissing. He returned home completely out of patience with the whole tribe of women.

After he had been tucked into bed mother came in to kiss him good-night.

He refused.

Mother begged and begged, till in disgust he turned to his father, who was standing at the doorway, looking on, and said:

"Daddy, for heaven's sake, give this woman a kiss!"

People who throw kisses are mighty near hopelessly lazy.

"If you kiss me again," declared Miss Lovely firmly, "I shall tell father."

"That's an old tale," replied the bold, bad young man. "Anyhow, it's worth it," and he kissed her.

Miss Lovely sprang to her feet. "I shall tell father," she said and left the room.

"Father," she said softly to her parent when she got outside, "Mr. Bolder wants to see your new gun."

"All right, I'll take it to him," said her father, and two minutes later he appeared in the doorway with his gun in his hand.

There was a crash of breaking glass as Mr. Bolder dived through the window and departed in all haste for the railway station.—Judge.

Before introducing Lieutenant de Tessan, aid to General Joffre, and Colonel Fabry, the "Blue Devil of France," Chairman Spencer, of the St. Louis entertainment committee, at the M. A. A. breakfast told this anecdote.

"In Washington, Lieutenant de Tessan was approached by a pretty American girl, who said:

"'And did you kill a German soldier?'

"'Yes,' he replied.

"'With what hand did you do it?' she inquired.

"'With this right hand,' he said.

"And then the pretty American girl seized his right hand and kissed it. Colonel Fabry stood near by. He strolled over and said to Lieutenant de Tessan:

"'Heavens, man, why didn't you tell her that you bit him to death.'"

According to Dr. Bramer, the savages of Brumari Island never kiss each other. Judging by their photographs, we don't blame them.

A girl was asked to explain why men never kiss each other, while women do. She replied:

"Men have something better to kiss; women haven't."

A kiss is a peculiar proposition. Of no use to one, yet absolute bliss to two. The small boy gets it for nothing, the young man has to steal it, and the old man has to buy it. The Baby's right, the Lover's privilege, the Hypocrite's mask. To a young girl, faith; to a married woman, hope; to an old maid charity.



To be conscious that you are ignorant is a great help to knowledge.—Disraeli.


"What's that you're goin' to give Bill?"

"An anesthetic. After he takes it he won't know anything."

"Lor', Bill don't need that, he don't know anything now."

Knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance.



"What's the difference between capital and labor?"

"If I had to work and turn three-fourths of my wages over to you, that would be labor."


"On the other hand, if you had to work and turn three-fourths of your wages over to me, that would be capital."


JOHN—"You work hard. How many hods of mortar have yuh carried up that ladder today?"

BILL—"Hush, man. I'm foolin' the boss. I've carried this same hodful up an' down all day, and he thinks I've been workin'."

Said a teacher of much erudition, "I deplore the poor workman's condition." When he learned what they earned, His profession he spurned, And became a high-paid mechanician.

"And how is your husband keeping?"

"'E ain't keeping; 'e's on strike, and I'm doing the keeping."

BOSS—"No; we have all the men we need."

LABORER—"Seems like you could take one more, the little bit of work I'd do."—Judge.

FARMER—"I'll give you $5 a month and your board!"

APPLICANT—"Aw, shucks! What do you think I am, a college graduate?"

Wilson Barrett used to tell an amusing story against himself. At a time when he had a lot of workmen redecorating his private residence, thinking to give them a treat, he asked if, after work one evening, they would like to have seats to go and see him play in "The Lights o' London," at the Princess's Theater.

They said they didn't mind if they did, and being given complimentary tickets, all went on a Saturday night to see their employer's performance.

At the end of the week Barrett's eye caught sight of this item against each workman's name on the pay-sheet: "Saturday night. Four hours' overtime at Princess's Theater, eight shillings."


A New Orleans man tells of a visit he once made to a small, although important, place on the Caribbean coast of Colombia.

At that time, it appears, his knowledge of South America was limited, and he viewed the sights with a keener interest than he does today. While he was waiting for the train in which he was to travel to Barranquilla, two peons went by with a wheelbarrow minus the wheel. It was a contrivance with handles at both ends, and it required the services of two men to move it.

Turning to a steamer acquaintance, the American asked him if there were no real wheelbarrows in the place.

"Oh, no," replied the Colombian; "we use these ingenious devices so that two men may do the work of one."


See Woman.


The oculist was examining the eyes of a patient from Jamaica. He requested the patient to read the top line of the test card, the letters of which ran N P R T V Z B D F H K O. The patient emitted a spluttering sound. "Come, come," urged the doctor, "read the top line." The patient frowned and spluttered again. The doctor was slightly exasperated. "If you can't read it, just say so," he said.

"Well, really, you know," replied the Jamaican, "the letters are perfectly familiar, but I'm hanged if I know the language."

"Why have words roots, pa?"

"To make the language grow, my child."


Every time a man laughs he takes a kink out of the chain of life.

"After all," said Kwoter, "it's a true saying that 'he laughs best who laughs last.'"

"Not at all," replied Wise. "The really true saying is: 'He laughs best whose laugh lasts.'"


"Did the laundry man find those cuffs he lost last week?"

"No, John."

"The shirts are no good to me without the cuffs."

"Evidently he figured it that way, too. This week he lost the shirts."


The good need fear no law; It is his safety, and the bad man's awe.


"Your case would have been stronger, Mr. McGuire," said the lawyer, "if you had acted only on the defensive. But you struck first. If you had let him strike you first you would have had the law on your side."

"Yes," said McGuire. "Oi'd have had the law on my soide, but Oi'd have had him on me stomach."

Congressman Hull, of Iowa, sent free seeds to a constituent in a franked envelop, on the corner of which were the usual words, "Penalty for private use, $300." A few days later he received a letter which read:

"I don't know what to do about those garden-seeds you sent me. I notice it is $300 fine for private use. I don't want to use them for the public. I want to plant them in my private garden. I can't afford to pay $300 for the privilege. Won't you see if you can't fix it so I can use them privately? I am a law-abiding citizen, and do not want to commit any crime."


LAWYER—"Are you aware, sir, that what you contemplate is illegal?"

CLIENT—"Certainly. What do you suppose I came to consult you for?"

An Atlanta lawyer tells of a newly qualified judge in one of the towns of the South who was trying one of his first criminal cases. The prisoner was an old negro charged with robbing a hen-coop. He had been in court before on a similar charge and was then acquitted.

"Well Henry," observed the Judge, "I see you're in trouble again."

"Yessuh," replied the negro. "De las' time, Jedge, you rec'lect, you was mah lawyuh."

"Where is your lawyer this time?"

"I ain't got no lawyer dis time," said Henry. "Ah's gwine to tell de troof."

"Pa, what is a retainer?"

"What you pay a lawyer before he does any work for you, my son."

"Oh, I see. It's like the quarter you put in the gas-meter before you get any gas."

After a young lawyer had talked nearly five hours to a jury, who felt like lynching him, his opponent, a grizzled old veteran, arose, looked sweetly at the judge, and said:

"Your honor, I will follow the example of my young friend who has just finished, and submit the case without argument."—Life.

A Chicago business man, with many relatives, some of whom were well-to-do but grasping, recently sought the services of his lawyer to draw up his will. When, after much labor, the document was completed, the client asked:

"Have you fixed this thing, as I wished it, tight and strong?"

"I have done my best," said the lawyer.

"Well," continued the client, "I want to ask you another thing—not professionally, however. As a friend, and man to man, who do you think stands the best chance of getting the property when I am gone?"

The attorneys for the prosecution and defense had been allowed fifteen minutes each to argue the case. The attorney for the defense had commenced his argument with an allusion to the old swimming-hole of his boyhood days. He told in flowery oratory of the balmy air, the singing birds, the joy of youth, the delights of the cool water—

And in the midst of it he was interrupted by the drawling voice of the judge:

"Come out, Chauncey," he said, "and put on your clothes. Your fifteen minutes are up."

It is related that when Judge Benjamin Toppan of Ohio, who died in the early '70s, applied for admission to the bar of that state he was asked just two questions. "Mr. Toppan, what is law?" was the first of these.

"An unjust distribution of justice," replied the applicant.

"What is equity?" was the second.

"A damned imposition upon common sense!"

He was received into the brotherhood with open arms.

MAGNATE—"I give that lawyer ten thousand dollars a year to keep me out of jail."

"Oh, John! Please stop spending your money so foolishly."—Life.

When General Beck was a young lawyer a man was arraigned for murder and had no counsel.

"Mr. Beck," said the presiding judge, "take the prisoner into that room at the rear of the court, hear his story, and give him the best advice you can."

Accordingly Beck disappeared with the prisoner, and in half an hour's time returned into court—alone.

"Where is the prisoner?" asked the judge.

"Well," replied Beck, slowly, "I heard his story, and then I gave him the best advice I could. I said: 'Prisoner, if I were you I'd get out of that window and make tracks.' He slid down the water-pipe, and the last I saw of him he was getting over a stone wall half a mile away."

"Smith certainly is a foxy fellow. He's drawn up his will in such a way that the lawyers can't get more out of it than his own heirs."

"How's that?"

"Why, he left half his fortune to one of the best lawyers in the country, provided he saw to it that the other half went to Smith's children intact."

"I couldn't serve as a juror, judge. One look at that fellow convinces me he's guilty."

"Sh-h! That's the district attorney."

LITTLE WILLIE—"What is a lawyer, pa?"

PA—"A lawyer, my son, is a man who induces two other men to strip for a fight, and then runs off with their clothes."

The following is told of a late railway magnate and a prominent Philadelphia lawyer.

Said the magnate to the lawyer—"I want you to show that this law is unconstitutional. Do you think that you can manage it?"

"Easily," answered the lawyer.

"Well, go ahead and get familiar with the case."

"I'm already at home in it. I know my ground perfectly. It's the same law you had me prove was constitutional two years ago."

"Are you sure you can prove my client is crazy?"

"Why, certainly," replied the eminent alienist. "And what is more, if you are ever in trouble and need my services I'll do the same thing for you."

The lawyer was endeavoring to pump some free advice out of the doctor.

"Which side is it best to lie on, Doc?"

"The side that pays you the retainer."

An attorney in Dublin having died exceedingly poor, a shilling subscription was set on foot to pay the expenses of his funeral. Most of the attorneys and barristers having subscribed, one of them applied to Toler, afterwards Lord Chief Justice Norbury, expressing his hope that he would also subscribe his shilling.

"Only a shilling!" said Toler; "only a shilling to bury an attorney! Here is a guinea; go and bury one-and-twenty of them."

See also Judges.


"I was in need of help to harvest my prune crop," said the grower, "and I went to a saloon in a near-by city. On entering the place I accosted the barkeeper, and asked him if any of the men lounging about the place cared for employment at good wages.

"'I dunno,' said the mixer, 'yer better ask 'em.'

"'Any of you men want to go to work?' I said.

"There was a dead silence for a few moments, when one of the loafers spoke up and queried, 'What doing, and what do yer pay?'

"'Picking prunes,' I replied, 'and I pay three dollars a day and board.'

"'What kind of a place is it?' asked the garrulous one.

"'It is an attractive rolling orchard,' I answered.

"The I. W. W. spokesman rose from his chair, yawned, stretched himself, and said, 'Well, roll her in here and let's see her, and we'll tell yer if we wants the job.'"

A morning paper complains that "eggs ought to be more plentiful and cheaper than they are at the present time." The number of hens to be seen nowadays standing about doing nothing is certainly a scandal.

An American teacher undertook the task of convincing an indolent native son of the Philippines that it was his duty to get out and hustle.

"But why should I work?" inquired the guileless Filipino.

"In order to make money," declared the thrifty teacher.

"But what do I want with money?" persisted the brown brother.

"Why, when you get plenty of money you will be independent and will not have to work any more," replied the teacher.

"I don't have to work now," said the native—and the teacher gave it up in disgust.

FIRST COCKY (on horseback)—"That cove ye've had wurrkin' for yer arsked me fur a job this mornin'. Was he a steady chap Ryan?"

SECOND COCKY—"He was. If he'd ha' bin inny stiddier he'd ha' bin motionless."

"What sort of a chap is Bill to camp out with?"

"He's one of those fellows who always takes down a mandolin about the time it's up to somebody to get busy with the frying pan."

A camera man who had ventured without permission to take some pictures on a farm for the educational department of a film company was met unexpectedly by the owner of the farm and hastened to explain his presence there. "I've just been taking a few moving pictures of life on your farm," he said.

"Have you?" the old farmer responded. "And did you catch my hired man in motion?"

"Sure I did," the man assured him.

"You did!" the farmer exclaimed. Then he shook his head reflectively. "Well, well," he remarked, "science is a wonderful thing."


"Why do you object to the League of Nations?"

"On musical grounds. After singing 'My Country, 'Tis of Thee,' all these years, I don't want the mental effort of changing to 'Our Countries, Tis of Those.'"

FOR SALE—"League of Nations." Several pages missing; binding gone in spots. Damaged by fire and water. Valuable historical document. Author now unknown. As is.


A Modern Leap-Year Song

Ah, me! why should I marry me? Lovers are plenty, but fortunes are few Why lose wages that carry me Better by far than a husband could do? Fond youth, calmly I'm viewing you, Steeling a heart that might flutter and throb: I've no thought of pursuing you; Poverty's stupid—I'll stick to my job.


Pat, who was left-handed, was being sworn in as a witness in the West Side Court of Denver, Colo.

"Hold up your right hand," said the judge. Up went Pat's left hand.

"Hold up your right hand," commanded the judge, sternly.

"Sure and I am, yer honor," declared Pat. "Me right hand's on me left-hand side."


"Have you made any resolutions or turned over a new leaf or anything like that?"

"No," replied the man with the serene smile. "No need of them. If I have any lingering vices I feel that I need only wait for somebody to introduce legislation that will make them impossible."


"Do you think we are happier for the conveniences of telegraph and telephone?"

"Not always," replied Senator Sorghum. "It would be a great comfort to be able to make a speech that exactly agrees with your audience without its being placed immediately before people all over the country who may not feel the same way about it."

"Senator, you promised me a job."

"But there are no jobs."

"I need a job, Senator."

"Well, I'll ask for a commission to investigate as to why there are no jobs and you can get a job on that."


THE CHILD—"Mother, what is 'leisure'?"

THE MOTHER—"It's the spare time a woman has in which she can do some other kind of work, dearie."


The teacher was telling her class a long, highly embellished story of Santa Claus, and the mirth of Willie Jones eventually got entirely beyond his control.

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