Part 12

"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_.

There is many a cup 'twixt the lip and the slip.--_Judge_.

One swallow doesn't make a summer, but it breaks a New Year's resolution.--_Life_.

DOCTOR (feeling Sandy's pulse in bed)--"What do you drink."

SANDY (with brightening face)--"Oh, I'm nae particular, doctor! Anything you've got with ye."

Here's to the girls of the American shore, I love but one, I love no more, Since she's not here to drink her part, I'll drink her share with all my heart.

A well-known Scottish architect was traveling in Palestine recently, when news reached him of an addition to his family circle. The happy father immediately provided himself with some water from the Jordan to carry home for the christening of the infant, and returned to Scotland.

On the Sunday appointed for the ceremony he duly presented himself at the church, and sought out the beadle in order to hand over the precious water to his care. He pulled the flask from his pocket, but the beadle held up a warning hand, and came nearer to whisper:

"No the noo, sir; no the noo! Maybe after the kirk's oot!"

When President Eliot of Harvard was in active service as head of the university, reports came to him that one of his young charges was in the habit of absorbing more liquor than was good for him, and President Eliot determined to do his duty and look into the matter.

Meeting the young man under suspicion in the yard shortly after breakfast one day the president marched up to him and demanded, "Young man, do you drink?"

"Why, why, why," stammered the young man, "why, President Eliot, not so early in the morning, thank you."

WIFE (on auto tour)--"That fellow back there said there is a road-house a few miles down the road. Shall we stop there?"

HUSBAND--"Did he whisper it or say it out loud?"

A priest went to a barber shop conducted by one of his Irish parishioners to get a shave. He observed the barber was suffering from a recent celebration, but decided to take a chance. In a few moments the barber's razor had nicked the father's cheek. "There, Pat, you have cut me," said the priest as he raised his hand and caressed the wound. "Yis, y'r riv'rance," answered the barber. "That shows you," continued the priest, in a tone of censure, "what the use of liquor will do." "Yis, y'r riv'rance," replied the barber, humbly, "it makes the skin tender."

Ex-congressman Asher G. Caruth, of Kentucky, tells this story of an experience he once had on a visit to a little Ohio town.

"I went up there on legal business," he says, "and, knowing that I should have to stay all night, I proceeded directly to the only hotel. The landlord stood behind the desk and regarded me with a kindly air as I registered. It seems that he was a little hard of hearing, a fact of which I was not aware. As I jabbed the pen back into the dish of bird shot, I said:

"'Can you direct me to the bank?'

"He looked at me blankly for a second, then swinging the register around, he glanced down swiftly, caught the 'Louisville' after my name, and an expression of complete understanding lighting up his countenance, he said:

"'Certainly, sir. You will find the bar right through that door at the left.'"

_See also_ Drunkards; Good fellowship; Temperance; Wine.

DROUGHTS

Governor Glasscock of West Virginia, while traveling through Arizona, noticed the dry, dusty appearance of the country.

"Doesn't it ever rain around here?" he asked one of the natives.

"Rain?" The native spat. "Rain? Why say pardner, there's bullfrogs in this yere town over five years old that hain't learned to swim yet!"

DRUNKARDS

Sing a song of sick gents, Pockets full of rye, Four and twenty highballs, We wish that we might die.

Two booze-fiends were ambling homeward at an early hour, after being out nearly all night.

"Don't your wife miss you on these occasions?" asked one.

"Not often," replied the other; "she throws pretty straight."

"Where's old Four-Fingered Pete?" asked Alkali Ike. "I ain't seen him around here since I got back."

"Pete?" said the bartender. "Oh, he went up to Hyena Tongue and got jagged. Went up to a hotel winder, stuck his head in and hollered 'Fire!' and everybody did."

The Irish talent for repartee has an amusing illustration in Lord Rossmore's recent book "Things I Can Tell." While acting as magistrate at an Irish village, Lord Rossmore said to an old offender brought before him: "You here again?" "Yes, your honor." "What's brought you here?" "Two policemen, your honor." "Come, come, I know that--drunk again, I suppose?" "Yes, your honor, both of them."

The colonel came down to breakfast New Year's morning with a bandaged hand.

"Why, colonel, what's the matter?" they asked.

"Confound it all!" the colonel answered, "we had a little party last night, and one of the younger men got intoxicated and stepped on my hand."

MAGISTRATE--"And what was the prisoner doing?"

CONSTABLE--"E were 'avin' a very 'eated argument with a cab driver, yer worship."

MAGISTRATE--"But that doesn't prove he was drunk."

CONSTABLE--"Ah, but there worn't no cab driver there, yer worship."

A Scotch minister and his servant, who were coming home from a wedding, began to consider the state into which their potations at the wedding feast had left them.

"Sandy," said the minister, "just stop a minute here till I go ahead. Maybe I don't walk very steady and the good wife might remark something not just right."

He walked ahead of the servant for a short distance and then asked:

"How is it? Am I walking straight?"

"Oh, ay," answered Sandy thickly, "ye're a' recht--but who's that who's with ye."

A man in a very deep state of intoxication was shouting and kicking most vigorously at a lamp post, when the noise attracted a near-by policeman.

"What's the matter?" he asked the energetic one.

"Oh, never mind, mishter. Thash all right," was the reply; "I know she'sh home all right--I shee a light upshtairs."

A pompous little man with gold-rimmed spectacles and a thoughtful brow boarded a New York elevated train and took the only unoccupied seat. The man next him had evidently been drinking. For a while the little man contented himself with merely sniffing contemptuously at his neighbor, but finally he summoned the guard.

"Conductor," he demanded indignantly, "do you permit drunken people to ride upon this train?"

"No, sir," replied the guard in a confidential whisper. "But don't say a word and stay where you are, sir. If ye hadn't told me I'd never have noticed ye."

A noisy bunch tacked out of their club late one night, and up the street. They stopped in front of an imposing residence. After considerable discussion one of them advanced and pounded on the door. A woman stuck her head out of a second-story window and demanded, none too sweetly: "What do you want?"

"Ish thish the residence of Mr. Smith?" inquired the man on the steps, with an elaborate bow.

"It is. What do you want?"

"Ish it possible I have the honor of speakin' to Misshus Smith?"

"Yes. What do you want?"

"Dear Misshus Smith! Good Misshus Smith! Will you--hic--come down an' pick out Mr. Smith? The resh of us want to go home."

That clever and brilliant genius, McDougall, who represented California in the United States Senate, was like many others of his class somewhat addicted to fiery stimulants, and unable to battle long with them without showing the effect of the struggle. Even in his most exhausted condition he was, however, brilliant at repartee; but one night, at a supper of journalists given to the late George D. Prentice, a genius of the same mold and the same unfortunate habit, he found a foeman worthy of his steel in General John Cochrane. McDougall had taken offense at some anti-slavery sentiments which had been uttered--it was in war times--and late in the evening got on his legs for the tenth time to make a reply. The spirit did not move him to utterance, however; on the contrary, it quite deprived him of the power of speech; and after an ineffectual attempt at speech he suddenly concluded:

"Those are my sentiments, sir, and my name's McDougall."

"I beg the gentleman's pardon," said General Cochrane, springing to his feet; "but what was that last remark?"

McDougall pronounced it again; "my name's McDougall."

"There must be some error," said Cochrane, gravely. "I have known Mr. McDougall many years, and there never was a time when as late as twelve o'clock at night he knew what his name was."

On a pleasant Sunday afternoon an old German and his youngest son were seated in the village inn. The father had partaken liberally of the home-brewed beer, and was warning his son against the evils of intemperance. "Never drink too much, my son. A gentleman stops when he has enough. To be drunk is a disgrace."

"Yes, Father, but how can I tell when I have enough or am drunk?"

The old man pointed with his finger. "Do you see those two men sitting in the corner? If you see four men there, you would be drunk."

The boy looked long and earnestly. "Yes, Father, but--but--there is only one man in that corner."--_W. Karl Hilbrich_.

William R. Hearst, who never touches liquor, had several men in important positions on his newspapers who were not strangers to intoxicants. Mr. Hearst has a habit of appearing at his office at unexpected times and summoning his chiefs of departments for instructions. One afternoon he sent for Mr. Blank.

"He hasn't come down yet, sir," reported the office boy.

"Please tell Mr. Dash I want to see him."

"He hasn't come down yet either."

"Well, find Mr. Star or Mr. Sun or Mr. Moon--anybody; I want to see one of them at once."

"Ain't none of 'em here yet, sir. You see there was a celebration last night and--"

Mr. Hearst sank back in his chair and remarked in his quiet way:

"For a man who don't drink I think I suffer more from the effects of it than anybody in the world."

"What is a drunken man like, Fool?"

"Like a drowned man, a fool and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him."--_Shakespeare_.

DYSPEPSIA

"Ah," she sighed "for many years I've suffered from dyspepsia."

"And don't you take anything for it?" her friend asked. "You look healthy enough."

"Oh," she replied, "I haven't indigestion: my husband has."

ECHOES

An American and a Scotsman were walking one day near the foot of one of the Scotch mountains. The Scotsman, wishing to impress the visitor, produced a famous echo to be heard in that place. When the echo returned clearly after nearly four minutes, the proud Scotsman, turning to the Yankee exclaimed:

"There, mon, ye canna show anything like that in your country."

"Oh, I don't know," said the American, "I guess we can better that. Why in my camp in the Rockies, when I go to bed I just lean out of my window and call out, 'Time to get up: wake up!' and eight hours afterward the echo comes back and wakes me."

ECONOMY

An economist is usually a man who can save money by cutting down some other person's expenses.

Economy is going without something you do want in case you should, some day, want something which you probably won't want.--_Anthony Hope_.

Economy is a way of spending money without getting any fun out of it.

Ther's lots o' difference between thrift an' tryin' t' revive a last year's straw hat.--_Abe Martin_.

Economy is a great revenue.--_Cicero_.

_See also_ Domestic finance; Saving; Thrift.

EDITORS

Recipe for an editor:

Take a personal hatred of authors, Mix this with a fiendish delight In refusing all efforts of genius And maiming all poets on sight.

--_Life_.

The city editor of a great New York daily was known in the newspaper world as a martinet and severe disciplinarian. Some of his caustic and biting criticisms are classics. Once, however, the tables were turned upon him in a way that left him speechless for days.

A reporter on the paper wrote an article that the city editor did not approve of. The morning of publication this reporter drifted into the office and encountered his chief, who was in a white heat of anger. Carefully suppressing the explosion, however, the boss started in with ominous and icy words:

"Mr. Blank, I am not going to criticize you for what you have written. On the other hand, I am profoundly sorry for you. I have watched your work recently, and it is my opinion, reached after calm and dispassionate observation, that you are mentally unbalanced. You are insane. Your mind is a wreck. Your friends should take you in hand. The very kindest suggestion I can make is that you visit an alienist and place yourself under treatment. So far you have shown no sign of violence, but what the future holds for you no one can tell. I say this in all kindness and frankness. You are discharged."

The reporter walked out of the office and wandered up to Bellevue Hospital. He visited the insane pavilion, and told the resident surgeon that there was a suspicion that he was not all right mentally and asked to be examined. The doctor put him through the regular routine and then said,

"Right as a top."

"Sure?" asked the reporter. "Will you give me a certificate to that effect?" The doctor said he would and did. Clutching the certificate tightly in his hand the reporter entered the office an hour later, walked up to the city editor, handed it to him silently, and then blurted out,

"Now you go get one."

EDUCATION

Along in the sixties Pat Casey pushed a wheelbarrow across the plains from St. Joseph, Mo., to Georgetown, Colo., and shortly after that he "struck it rich"; in fact, he was credited with having more wealth than any one else in Colorado. A man of great shrewdness and ability, he was exceedingly sensitive over his inability to read or write. One day an old-timer met him with:

"How are you getting along, Pat?"

"Go 'way from me now," said Pat genially, "me head's bustin' wid business. It takes two lid-pincils a day to do me wurruk."

A catalog of farming implements sent out by the manufacturer finally found its way to a distant mountain village where it was evidently welcomed with interest. The firm received a carefully written, if somewhat clumsily expressed letter from a southern "cracker" asking further particulars about one of the listed articles.

To this, in the usual course of business, was sent a type-written answer. Almost by return mail came a reply:

"You fellows need not think you are so all-fired smart, and you need not print your letters to me. I can read writing."

EFFICIENCY

An American motorist went to Germany in his car to the army maneuvers. He was especially impressed with the German motor ambulances. As the tourist watched the maneuvers from a seat under a tree, the axle of one of the motor ambulances broke. Instantly the man leaped out, ran into the village, returned in a jiffy with a new axle, fixed it in place with wonderful skill, and teuffed-teuffed off again almost as good as new.