Chapter 9

"Germany's claim that she imports nothing, buys only of herself, and so is growing rich from the war, is a dreadful fallacy."

The speaker was Herbert C. Hoover, chairman of the American Food Board.

"Germany," he went on, "is like the young man who wisely thought he'd grow his own garden stuff. This young man had been digging for about an hour when his spade turned up a quarter. Ten minutes later he found another quarter. Then he found a dime. Then he found a quarter again.

"'By gosh!' he said, 'I've struck a silver mine,' and, straightening up, he felt something cold slide down his leg. Another quarter lay at his feet. He grasped the truth: There was a hole in his pocket."

PESSIMISTS

Out at the front two regiments, returning to the trenches, chanced to meet. There was the usual exchange of wit.

"When's the bloomin' war goin' to end?" asked one north-country lad.

"Dunno," replied one of the south-shires. "We've planted some daffydils in front of our trench."

"Bloomin' optimists!" snorted the man from the north. "We've planted acorns."

DELAYED

The way they take air raids in England is illustrated by the following conversation from _Punch_:

"Just ask Dr. Jones to run round to my place right away. Our cook's fallen downstairs--broke her leg; the housemaid's got chicken-pox, and my two boys have been knocked down by a taxi."

"I'm sorry, sir, but the doctor was blown up in yesterday's air raid, and he won't be down for a week."

HOW MARY LOST A TIP

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."

A LITTLE TOO THRIFTY

Secretary of War Baker tells a story of a country youth who was driving to the county fair with his sweetheart when they passed a booth where fresh popcorn was for sale.

"My! Abner, ain't that nice?" said the girl.

"Ain't what nice?" asked Abner.

"Why, the popcorn, it smells so awfully good," replied the girl.

"It does smell kind o' fine," drawled the youth. "I'll jest drive a little closer so you can get a better smell."

BEYOND HIM

A young couple, speeding along the country highway, were stopped by the justice of the peace.

"Ten and costs for reckless driving," announced the justice.

"Listen," said the young man, "judge, we were on our way to have you marry us."

"Twenty and costs, then!" cried the justice. "You're more reckless than I thought you were."

ITS NAME

In a kindergarten class flags were shown, and in answer to a question a little girl gave the response that was expected of her: "This is the flag of my country."

"And what is the name of your country?" was the next question.

"'Tis of thee," was the prompt reply.

THE ORIGINAL METHOD

Katherine and Margaret found themselves seated next each other at a dinner-party and immediately became confidential.

"Molly told me that you told her that secret I told you not to tell her," whispered Margaret.

"Oh, isn't she a mean thing!" gasped Katherine. "Why, I told her not to tell you!"

"Well," returned Margaret, "I told her I wouldn't tell you she told me--so don't tell her I did."

GIVE US THE CHANCE

When Booth Tarkington was visiting Naples he was present at an eruption of Vesuvius.

"You haven't anything like that in America, have you?" said an Italian friend with pride.

"No, we haven't," replied Tarkington; "but we've got Niagara Falls that would put the d----d thing out in five minutes."

A DELIGHTFUL EXPERIENCE!

We often take delight in fancying what we would do if things were really reversed in this oftentimes trying world: and particularly what we would do to the president of our bank. Here is a little story which gives the pleasant variety:

"I have come in to borrow some money from you," said the bank president timidly, as he stood before one of his depositors, nervously twirling his hat in his hand.

"Ah, yes," said the depositor, gazing at him severely. "But you don't expect to get it, do you?"

"I had hoped to."

"What collateral have you to offer?"

"My bank with all the money in it."

"All the people in the bank?"

"Yes."

"Please say 'Yes, sir.' It is more respectful."

"Thank you, sir."

"Um! Ah! Will you put in your own family?"

"Yes, sir, I'll throw in my family also."

"Your prospects in life? Don't hesitate, man. Remember you are up against it."

"Well, yes, sir."

"How much money do you want?"

"One thousand dollars."

"Dear me! For such a small amount as that I shall have to charge you at least six per cent. If you were a regular millionaire and wanted, say, half a million, I could let you have it for three or four per cent."

"Yes, sir. I appreciate your generosity."

The depositor handed the president of the bank, who was now almost completely bathed in a cold perspiration, a blank form.

"Here," he said, "sign this."

"Do you wish me to read it first, sir?"

"What! Read something you wouldn't understand anyway? No. I'll tell you what's in it. It mortgages yourself, your bank, all the people in it, your family, all your property, and your soul Sign here."

The bank president signed with trembling fingers, got a piece of paper which entitled him to the privilege of entertaining a thousand dollars for six months at his own expense, and withdrew.

Then the depositor, smiling to himself and rubbing his hands, said:

"Aha! I'll teach these fellows to know their places!"

DAD WAS WISE

When the conversation turned to the subject of romantic marriage this little anecdote was volunteered by H.M. Asker, a North Dakota politician:

"So you were married ten years ago. Took place in the church, I suppose, with bridesmaids, flowers, cake, and the brass band?"

"No; it was an elopement."

"An elopement, eh? Did the girl's father follow you?"

"Yes, and he has been with us ever since."

KINDNESS

Private Simpkins had returned from the front, to find that his girl had been walking out with another young man, and naturally asked her to explain her frequent promenades in the town with the gentleman.

"Well, dear," she replied, "it was only kindness on his part. He just took me down every day to the library to see if you were killed."

MORE SCOTCH THRIFT

Harry Lauder tells the following story about a funeral in Glasgow and a well-dressed stranger who took a seat in one of the mourning coaches. The other three occupants of the carriage were rather curious to know who he was, and at last one of them began to question him. The dialogue went like this:

"Ye'll be a brither o' the corp?"

"No, I'm no' a brither o' the corp."

"Weel, ye'll be his cousin?"

"No, I'm no' a cousin."

"At ony rate ye'll be a frien' o' the corp?"

"No, I'm no' that either. Ye see, I've no' been very weel masel," the stranger explained complacently, "an' my doctor has ordered me carriage exercise, so I thocht this would be the cheapest way to tak' it."

WORTH A CHANCE

The small boy stood at the garden gate and howled and howled and howled. A passing lady paused beside him.

"What's the matter, little man?" she asked in a kindly voice.

"O-o-oh!" wailed the youngster. "Pa and ma won't take me to the pictures to-night."

"But don't make such a noise," said the dame, admonishingly. "Do they ever take you when you cry like that?"

"S-sometimes they do, an'--an' sometimes they d-d-don't," bellowed the boy. "But it ain't no trouble to yell!"

CHANGE FOR THE BETTER

"We were bounding along," said a recent traveller on a local South African single-line railway, "at the rate of about seven miles an hour, and the whole train was shaking terribly. I expected every moment to see my bones protruding through my skin. Passengers were rolling from one end of the car to the other. I held on firmly to the arms of the seat. Presently we settled down a bit quieter; at least I could keep my hat on and my teeth didn't chatter.

"There was a quiet-looking man opposite me. I looked up with a ghastly smile, wishing to appear cheerful, and said:

"'We are going a bit smoother, I see.'

"'Yes,' he said, 'we're off the track now,'"

BIG CHANCES BOTH WAYS

The famous physician and the eminent clergyman were deep in a discussion which threatened to become acrimonious.

"You see," said the minister sarcastically, "you medical men know so much about the uncertainties of this world that I should think you would not want to live."

"Oh, I don't know," responded the physician caustically. "You clergymen tell us so much about the uncertainties of the next world that we don't want to die."

WARNING TO AUTHORS

One of Mr. Kipling's trees was injured by a bus, the driver of which was also landlord of an inn. Kipling wrote this man a letter of complaint, which the recipient sold to one of his guests for ten shillings. Again the angry author wrote, this time a more violent letter, which immediately fetched one pound.

A few days later Kipling called on the landlord and demanded to know why he had received no answer to his letters.

"Why, I was hoping you would send me a fresh one every day," was the cool reply. "They pay a great deal better than bus driving."

CONSIDERING FATHER

Does the American woman always consider her lesser half? The following tale shows that she does, although the lady's husband undoubtedly moved in a lower sphere. She was at that period in her existence where she gave literary afternoons and called her college-graduated daughter to her side and said:

"This afternoon, as I understand, we attend the Current Events Club, where Miss Spindleshank Corkerly of New York and Washington will give us her brief and cheery synopsis of the principal world events during the last month."

"Yes, mother."

"This evening the Birth Control Association meets at Mrs. Mudhaven's, where I shall read my paper on the Moral Protoplasm."

"Yes, mother."

"To-morrow morning the Efficiency Circle will assemble here for its weekly discussion and will be addressed by Professor Von Skintime Closhaven on the Scientific Curtailment of Catnaps."

"Yes, mother."

"To-morrow afternoon the Superwoman's Civic Conference Committee will take up the subject of the Higher Feminism, and in the evening the Hygienic Sex Sisters will confer with the superintendent of our school system on several ideas for our schools which we have in mind."

"Yes, mother. That brings us up to Thursday. What shall we do on that evening?"

"I thought, my dear, that we would take a night off and go to the movies with your dear father."

STORIES ABOUT JAMES GORDON BENNETT

Many are the stories told of the late James Gordon Bennett. One, more than any other, reveals one of his weaknesses--a disinclination to acknowledge an error.

Before taking up his residence abroad he frequently breakfasted at Delmonico's, then downtown. One Christmas morning he gave the waiter who always served him a small roll of bills. As soon as opportunity offered the waiter looked at the roll, and when he recovered his equilibrium took it to Mr. Delmonico. There were six $1,000 bills in the roll. The proprietor, sensing that a mistake had been made, put them in the safe.

When the publisher next visited the café Mr. Delmonico told him the waiter had turned the money in. He added he would return it as Mr. Bennett departed.

"Why return it? Didn't I give it to him?"

"Yes. But, of course, it was a mistake. You gave him $6,000."

"Mr. Delmonico," replied Bennett, rising to his full height, "you should know by this time that James Gordon Bennett never makes a mistake."

A pressman had just returned to work after a protracted spree. His face was battered, an eye was blackened, and an ear showed a tendency to mushroom. The night of his return was one on which Mr. Bennett visited the pressroom. He saw Mr. Bennett before Mr. Bennett saw him, and, daubing a handful of ink on his face, he became so busy that Bennett noticed him.

"Who is that man?" he asked the foreman. "What do you pay him?"

The foreman gave him the information.

"Double his salary," replied Mr. Bennett. "He's the only man in the place who seems to be doing any work."

A dramatic critic, still a well-known writer, lost his place because he would not get his hair cut. Bennett in Paris asked him why he wore his hair so long and was told because he liked it that way. An order sending him to Copenhagen followed. When his return was announced by a secretary, Bennett asked if he had had his hair cut, and being informed that he had not, ordered him to St. Petersburg. On his return from Russia, still unshorn, he was sent to the Far East.

"Has he had his hair cut?" asked Bennett when his return was once more announced.

"No, sir," replied the secretary, "it's as long as ever."

"Then fire him," replied Bennett. "He's too slow to take a hint to suit me."

STAYING ON THE JOB

In introducing the Honorable W.G. McAdoo to an audience of North Carolinians in the Raleigh Auditorium, Governor T.W. Bickett had occasion to refer to the North Carolina trait of stick-to-it-ness. He used as an example the case of Private Jim Webb, a green soldier and a long, lanky individual from the farm who had never been drilled in his whole life and knew even less about the usages and customs of war, so when he was conscripted into the North Carolina divisions in the late war between the states, he was given only a week's drill and then assigned to duty.

His regiment was in the Peninsular campaign, and Jim was soon put on guard duty, being given, as his first post, a place along the river bank, and cautioned to stick to his post under any conditions, to watch closely for the enemy, and to allow no one to pass who could not give the countersign.

"Obey your instructions," said the officer of the guard, "and I will return at two o'clock with relief. Do not leave your post under any conditions."

Promptly at two o'clock the officer returned, to find Jim gone. He searched long and diligently, but no trace of Jim. Finally he called, lowly at first, then louder, seeking to know if Jim were in the vicinity or had been captured. Finally came Jim's answering voice from out in the middle of the river, "Here I be."

"What in the world are you doing out there?" asked the indignant officer. "Did I not tell you not to leave your post?"

"I hain't moved, nuther," replied the indignant Jim; "the durn river's riz."

BUSINESS IS BUSINESS

"May I see you privately?"

The well-dressed stranger approached the mayor of the suburban town with the air of one who knew his business. When they were alone he said:

"I want to apply for the position of village burglar."

"Village burglar!"

"Yes, sir. I guarantee results, I only rob one house a week. This includes a clean get-away. When a man, no matter how conscientious, attempts any more than this, he is bound to deteriorate. By employing me regularly you get the best results."

"What inducements do you offer?"

"Your village will be advertised regularly and in the most efficient manner. I will guarantee to keep away all other burglars, thus insuring the comfort and safety of your police. I return all goods stolen. If it is necessary at any time to wound any of your citizens, I will pay half of the hospital expenses. Salary five thousand a year. Can furnish references."

"Nothing else?"

"My dear sir, what more do you want?"

The mayor shook his head, as rising, he indicated that the interview was over.

"Sorry, my friend," he said, "that I can't accept your offer, but I am just closing a contract with a man who not only will burglarize our village regularly on your terms, but also will turn over to us as a rebate one-half of the salary he gets from the burglary insurance company that employs him."

HIS FAVORITE BEAST

Harris Dickson, on a hunting trip in Sunflower County, Mississippi, met an old darky who had never seen a circus in his life. When the Big Show came in the following season to Dickson's town of Vicksburg he sent for the old man and treated him to the whole thing--arrival of the trains, putting up the tents, grand free street parade, menagerie, main performance, concert, side show, peanuts, red lemonade, and all.

The old darky followed his white patron through with popping eyes, but saying never a word. Late in the afternoon they got back to the Dickson home.

"John," said Dickson, "you enjoyed it?"

"Boss," said John fervently. "Ah shore did!"

"What did you like the most?"

"Mistah Dickson," answered John, "Ah shore laked hit all."

"Well, what impressed you most?"

"Well, suh, boss," he said, "Ah reckin hit waz dat dere animul you calls de camuel."

"The camel, eh? Well, what was so remarkable about the camel?"

"He suttinly is got such a noble smell!"

A LONG STORY

"May I ask the cause of all this excitement?" asked the stranger in the little village.

"Certainly," replied the countryman. "We're celebrating the birthday of the oldest inhabitant sir. She's a hundred and one to-day."

"Indeed! And may I ask who is that little man, with the dreadfully sad countenance, walking by the old lady's side?"

"Oh, that's the old lady's son-in-law, sir. He's been keeping up the payments on her life-insurance for the last thirty years!"

A DUAL REPUTATION

As Grantland Rice tells the story, a certain distinguished English actor, whom we may safely call Jones-Brown, plays a persistent but horrible game of golf. During a recent visit to this country the actor in question occasionally visited the links of a well-known country club in Westchester County, near New York.

After an especially miserable showing of inaptness one morning, he flung down his driver in disgust.

"Caddy," he said, addressing the silent youth who stood alongside, "that was awful, wasn't it?"

"Purty bad, sir," stated the boy.

"I freely confess that I am the worst golfer in the world," continued the actor.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, sir," said the caddy soothingly.

"Did you ever see a worse player than I am?"

"No, sir, I never did," confessed the boy truthfully; "but some of the other boys was tellin' me yistiddy about a gentleman that must be a worse player than you are. They said his name was Jones-Brown."

ALWAYS SAFETY FIRST

"You say that you want some name engraved on this ring," said the jeweller to the bashful young man.

"Yes; I want the words, 'George, to his dearest Alice' engraved on the inside of the ring."

"Is the young lady your sister?"

"No; she is the young lady to whom I am engaged."

"Well, if I were you I would not have 'George, to his dearest Alice' engraved on the ring. If Alice changes her mind you can't use the ring again."

"What would you suggest?"

"I would suggest the words, 'George, to his first and only love,' You see, with that inscription you can use the ring half a dozen times. I have had experience in such matters myself."

SURPRISING

Pat came to the dentist's with his jaw very much swollen from a tooth he desired to have pulled. But when the suffering son of Erin got into the dentist's chair and saw the gleaming pair of forceps approaching his face, he positively refused to open his mouth. The dentist quietly told his page boy to prick his patient with a pin, and when Pat opened his mouth to yell the dentist seized the tooth, and out it came. "It didn't hurt as much as you expected it would, did it?" the dentist asked, smilingly.

"Well, no," replied Pat, hesitatingly, as if doubting the truthfulness of his admission. "But," he added, placing his hand on the spot where the little boy pricked him with the pin, "begorra, little did I think the roots would reach down like that."

TRUE OPTIMIST

Among the passengers on a train on a one-track road in the Middle West was a talkative jewelry drummer. Presently the train stopped to take on water, and the conductor neglected to send back a flagman. An express came along and, before it could be stopped, bumped the rear end of the first train. The drummer was lifted from his seat and pitched head first into the seat ahead. His silk hat was jammed clear down over his ears. He picked himself up and settled back in his seat. No bones had been broken. He drew a long breath, straightened up, and said: "Well, they didn't get by us, anyway."

INDISSOLUBLE PARTNERS

Memory and Imagination had a discussion as to which was the greater. "Without me," said Memory, "your buildings, your fine castles, would all go down. I alone give you power to retain them."

"Without me," said Imagination, "there would be no use of retaining them, for, indeed, they wouldn't be there. I am the great builder."

"And I the great recorder."

"It appears, then, that no one of us is greater than the other. Yet I would not change places with you."

"Why not?" said Memory.

"Because," replied Imagination, "without you I can still keep on creating over and over."

At the end of a year Memory came back.

"What have you done?" asked Memory.

"Nothing," said Imagination.

"And you were wrong when you said that without me you could still go on creating."

"Yes. I did not realize how dependent I was upon you. What have you been doing during the year?"

"Reviewing some old friends. That was all I could do."

"Then we are practically equal."

"Yes. Let us live together hereafter in harmony, carrying on our door this legend:

There is no Memory without Imagination, And no Imagination without Memory."

DEPENDED ON THE MULE

Speaking at a political gathering, Congressman Frederick W. Dallinger, of Massachusetts, referred to the many amusing incidents of the schoolrooms, and related a little incident along that line.

A teacher in a public school was instructing a youthful class in English when she paused and turned to a small boy named Jimmy Brown.

"James," said she, "write on the board, 'Richard can ride the mule if he wants to,'"

This Jimmie proceeded to do to the satisfaction of all concerned.

"Now, then," continued the teacher when Jimmy had returned to his place, "can you find a better form for that sentence?"

"Yes, ma'am," was the prompt response of Jimmy. "'Richard can ride the mule if the mule wants him to.'"

CROWN PRINCE CALLED DOWN

Some years before the war the German Crown Prince got a very neat call-down from Miss Bernice Willard, a Philadelphia girl. It was during the Emperor's regatta, and the two mentioned were sitting with others on the deck of a yacht. A whiff of smoke from the Prince's cigarette blowing into the young lady's face, a lieutenant near by remarked:

"Smoke withers flowers."

"It is no flower," said the prince, jocularly, "it is a thistle."

Miss Willard raised her eyes a trifle.

"In that case," she said, "I had better retire or I shall be devoured"

HUMBLED

Mrs. Mellon did not wish to offend her new cook.

"John," she said to the manservant, "can you find out without asking the cook whether the tinned salmon was all eaten last night? You see, I don't wish to ask her, because she may have eaten it, and then she would feel uncomfortable," added the good soul.

"If you please, ma'am," replied the man, "the new cook has eaten the tinned salmon, and if you was to say anything to her you couldn't make her feel any more uncomfortable than she is."

IS THIS TACT?

An officer on board a warship was drilling his men.

"I want every man to lie on his back, put his legs in the air, and move them as if he were riding a bicycle," he explained. "Now commence."

After a short effort one of the men stopped.

"Why have you stopped, Murphy?" asked the officer.

"If ye plaze, sir," was the answer, "Oi'm coasting."

WARNED IN TWENTY YEARS