Laying the book on a table, he withdrew in high spirits to make arrangements for the wedding. Three days later he received the scrap-book from a messenger, with a note warning him never again to darken his Old Friend’s door.
“See!” the Gifted and Honourable Editor exclaimed, pointing to that injunction—“I am a painter and grainer!”
And he was led away to the Asylum for the Indiscreet.
The Faithful Cashier
The Cashier of a bank having defaulted was asked by the Directors what he had done with the money taken.
“I am greatly surprised by such a question,” said the Cashier; “it sounds as if you suspected me of selfishness. Gentlemen, I applied that money to the purpose for which I took it; I paid it as an initiation fee and one year’s dues in advance to the Treasurer of the Cashiers’ Mutual Defence Association.”
“What is the object of that organisation?” the Directors inquired.
“When any one of its members is under suspicion,” replied the Cashier, “the Association undertakes to clear his character by submitting evidence that he was never a prominent member of any church, nor foremost in Sunday-school work.”
Recognising the value to the bank of a spotless reputation for its officers, the President drew his check for the amount of the shortage and the Cashier was restored to favour.
The Circular Clew
A Detective searching for the murderer of a dead man was accosted by a Clew.
“Follow me,” said the Clew, “and there’s no knowing what you may discover.”
So the Detective followed the Clew a whole year through a thousand sinuosities, and at last found himself in the office of the Morgue.
“There!” said the Clew, pointing to the open register.
The Detective eagerly scanned the page, and found an official statement that the deceased was dead. Thereupon he hastened to Police Headquarters to report progress. The Clew, meanwhile, sauntered among the busy haunts of men, arm in arm with an Ingenious Theory.
The Devoted Widow
A Widow weeping on her husband’s grave was approached by an Engaging Gentleman who, in a respectful manner, assured her that he had long entertained for her the most tender feelings.
“Wretch!” cried the Widow. “Leave me this instant! Is this a time to talk to me of love?”
“I assure you, madam, that I had not intended to disclose my affection,” the Engaging Gentleman humbly explained, “but the power of your beauty has overcome my discretion.”
“You should see me when I have not been crying,” said the Widow.
The Hardy Patriots
A Dispenser-Elect of Patronage gave notice through the newspapers that applicants for places would be given none until he should assume the duties of his office.
“You are exposing yourself to a grave danger,” said a Lawyer.
“How so?” the Dispenser-Elect inquired.
“It will be nearly two months,” the Lawyer answered, “before the day that you mention. Few patriots can live so long without eating, and some of the applicants will be compelled to go to work in the meantime. If that kills them, you will be liable to prosecution for murder.”
“You underrate their powers of endurance,” the official replied.
“What!” said the Lawyer, “you think they can stand work?”
“No,” said the other—“hunger.”
The Humble Peasant
An Office Seeker whom the President had ordered out of Washington was watering the homeward highway with his tears.
“Ah,” he said, “how disastrous is ambition! how unsatisfying its rewards! how terrible its disappointments! Behold yonder peasant tilling his field in peace and contentment! He rises with the lark, passes the day in wholesome toil, and lies down at night to pleasant dreams. In the mad struggle for place and power he has no part; the roar of the strife reaches his ear like the distant murmur of the ocean. Happy, thrice happy man! I will approach him and bask in the sunshine of his humble felicity. Peasant, all hail!”
Leaning upon his rake, the Peasant returned the salutation with a nod, but said nothing.
“My friend,” said the Office Seeker, “you see before you the wreck of an ambitious man—ruined by the pursuit of place and power. This morning when I set out from the national capital—”
“Stranger,” the Peasant interrupted, “if you’re going back there soon maybe you wouldn’t mind using your influence to make me Postmaster at Smith’s Corners.”
The traveller passed on.
The Various Delegation
The King of Wideout having been offered the sovereignty of Wayoff, sent for the Three Persons who had made the offer, and said to them:
“I am extremely obliged to you, but before accepting so great a responsibility I must ascertain the sentiments of the people of Wayoff.”
“Sire,” said the Spokesman of the Three Persons, “they stand before you.”
“Indeed!” said the King; “are you, then, the people of Wayoff?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“There are not many of you,” the King said, attentively regarding them with the royal eye, “and you are not so very large; I hardly think you are a quorum. Moreover, I never heard of you until you came here; whereas Wayoff is noted for the quality of its pork and contains hogs of distinction. I shall send a Commissioner to ascertain the sentiments of the hogs.”
The Three Persons, bowing profoundly, backed out of the presence; but soon afterward they desired another audience, and, on being readmitted, said, through their Spokesman:
“May it please your Majesty, we are the hogs.”
The No Case
A Statesman who had been indicted by an unfeeling Grand Jury was arrested by a Sheriff and thrown into jail. As this was abhorrent to his fine spiritual nature, he sent for the District Attorney and asked that the case against him be dismissed.
“Upon what grounds?” asked the District Attorney.
“Lack of evidence to convict,” replied the accused.
“Do you happen to have the lack with you?” the official asked. “I should like to see it.”
“With pleasure,” said the other; “here it is.”
So saying he handed the other a check, which the District Attorney carefully examined, and then pronounced it the most complete absence of both proof and presumption that he had ever seen. He said it would acquit the oldest man in the world.
A Harmless Visitor
At a meeting of the Golden League of Mystery a Woman was discovered, writing in a note-book. A member directed the attention of the Superb High Chairman to her, and she was asked to explain her presence there, and what she was doing.
“I came in for my own pleasure and instruction,” she said, “and was so struck by the wisdom of the speakers that I could not help making a few notes.”
“Madam,” said the Superb High Chairman, “we have no objection to visitors if they will pledge themselves not to publish anything they hear. Are you—on your honour as a lady, now, madam—are you not connected with some newspaper?”
“Good gracious, no!” cried the Woman, earnestly. “Why, sir, I am an officer of the Women’s Press Association!”