A rose, an orchid and a little white clover were pressed between the leaves of a coquette's diary.
"She loves me more than she loves either of you," cried the rose, "because I am the first flower my master ever gave her!"
"She loves me more than she loves either of you," protested the orchid, "because I am the last flowermymaster ever gave her!"
The little white clover smiled to itself and said nothing. For the little white clover knew that its mistress had picked it herself.
It was in the late Springtime. And they were very young.
The young man sighed, "Ah, if the night were only fair, that we might sit close together, you and I, in the moonlight."
It was in the late Springtime. And they were very young.
The young moth sighed, "Ah, if the night were only fair, that they might go out into the moonlight and leave the screen doors open that we might play close together, you and I, in the gaslight."
"Whatever happens, wherever I go, wherever I am, I shall think of you," he said as he drew her to him and kissed her goodbye.
Three days out at sea he met another. And that night on the silver hurricane deck, under shelter of the life boats, true to his word and promise, he thought of her. He thought how cold her kisses were compared with those of this lovely creature.
The new battleship trembled in the ways, ready to glide into the sea.
The girl cracked a bottle of champagne over its bow and said in measured and serious tones: "I christen thee—'Kansas'!"
The young private, dreaming dreams of valour and glory, awaited eagerly his chance.
The enemy was daily coming nearer, nearer, and the dreams of the young private grew vivid and rosier still.
One morning, before dawn, the General telegraphed the Lieutenant-General to telegraph the Brigadier-General to telegraph the Colonel to telegraph the Lieutenant-Colonel to telegraph the Major to heliograph the Captain to telephone the First-Lieutenant to telephone the Second-Lieutenant to signal the Sergeant to tell the Corporal to command the private to charge!
The young private, at the order, dashed forward and was among the thousands who fell, still adream, in the capture of the hill that won for the General his nineteenth successive imperial cross.
There were many ardent suitors for her hand. And they sent her orchids and violets and lilies and roses. All save one, a poor young fellow, who sent her but a simple little bunch of daisies.
She married the man who sent orchids.
"Won't you come into my parlour?" said the spider to the fly.
"What nice hair you have," said the woman to the man.
The king was desirous of obtaining the most truthful man of his court for Lord of the domain's Exchequer. One by one the king had tested the aspirants and one by one had consigned each in his turn to the headsman; for they had all proved themselves liars. Three, and three only, remained.
Said the king to the first of these, "Have, you ever in all your life written, or tried to write, a poem?"
"No, your majesty," replied the fellow.
Whereupon the king signaled promptly the headsman.
Said the king to the second of these, "Can you sit in a rocking-chair without rocking?"
"Yes, your majesty," replied the fellow.
Whereupon the king signaled promptly the headsman.
Said the king to the third of these, "Have you ever used a hair tonic of any kind?"
"No, your majesty, never!" replied the fellow.
Whereupon the king signaled promptly the headsman.
And to this day the post of Lord of the Exchequer is vacant.
The Great Uplifter died and stoodbeforeSaint Peter.
"Alas," said Saint Peter, "I cannot let you in."
"But why?" demanded the Great Uplifter. "For surely I have been a good and striving man."
"Just so," answered Saint Peter. "You have been a good and striving man and you must be rewarded with happiness. Here, where all are happy, you would be unhappy, for here would be no work for your hands to do."
And that is how the Great Uplifter happened to go to hell.
The stock-broker's wife, mother of six children and portly, was a fatalist. "Why worry?" she was wont to say. "When the time comes for me to die, it will come properly enough, and that's all there is to it."
That afternoon, she was run over by a brewery wagon while on her way to see a singing teacher about having her voice cultivated.
The star actor, unable to restrain his mirth at the astounding satin décolleté worn by his leading woman in the scene where she, a street waif, pleads with him to give her a farthing that she and her widowed mother may not starve, turned his back to the audience. So uncontrollable were his chuckles that his shoulders heaved up and down, and his head shook, and his neck got red, and his eyes watered.
"A master of the acting technique," thought the audience. "How wonderfully he expresses the emotional outburst of grief!"
Somewhere, a funeral bell was tolling.
Somewhere, a thousand and one miles away, a woman was asking her lover for the third time in five minutes if he really loved her.
Transcriber's noteThe following changes have been made to the text:Page 5: "Immorality" changed to "Immortality".Page 6: "Scholar" changed to "TheScholar".Page 6: "Grotesqueries" changed to "Grotesquerie".Page 78: "stood be fore" changed to "stoodbefore".
The following changes have been made to the text:
Page 5: "Immorality" changed to "Immortality".
Page 6: "Scholar" changed to "TheScholar".
Page 6: "Grotesqueries" changed to "Grotesquerie".
Page 78: "stood be fore" changed to "stoodbefore".