consideration which serves to distinguish the truly pious from the wolves that perish, exclaimed:
“If I could have my way, I’d blow up all your gods with dynamite.”
“And if I could have mine,” retorted the Heathen in His Blindness, bitterly malevolent but oleaginuously suave, “I’d fan all yours out of the universe.”
The Desperate Object
A Dishonest Gain was driving in its luxurious carriage through its private park, when it saw something which frantically and repeatedly ran against a stone wall, endeavouring to butt out its brains.
“Hold! Hold! thou desperate Object,” cried the Dishonest Gain; “these beautiful private grounds are no place for such work as thine.”
“True,” said the Object, pausing; “I have other and better grounds for it.”
“Then thou art a happy man,” said the Dishonest Gain, “and thy bleeding head is but mere dissembling. Who art thou, great actor?”
“I am known,” said the Object, dashing itself again at the wall, “as the Consciousness of Duty Well Performed.”
The Appropriate Memorial
A High Public Functionary having died, the citizens of his town held a meeting to consider how to honour his memory, and an Other High Public Functionary rose and addressed the meeting.
“Mr. Chairman and Gintlemen,” said the Other, “it sames to me, and I‘m hopin’ yez wull approve the suggistion, that an appropriet way to honour the mimory of the decaised would be to erect an emolument sootably inscribed wid his vartues.”
The soul of the great man looked down from Heaven and wept.
A Needless Labour
After waiting many a weary day to revenge himself upon a Lion for some unconsidered manifestation of contempt, a Skunk finally saw him coming, and posting himself in the path ahead uttered the inaudible discord of his race. Observing that the Lion gave no attention to the matter, the Skunk, keeping carefully out of reach, said:
“Sir, I beg leave to point out that I have set on foot an implacable odour.”
“My dear fellow,” the Lion replied, “you have taken a needless trouble; I already knew that you were a Skunk.”
A Flourishing Industry
“Are the industries of this country in a flourishing condition?” asked a Traveller from a Foreign Land of the first man he met in America.
“Splendid!” said the Man. “I have more orders than I can fill.”
“What is your business?” the Traveller from a Foreign Land inquired.
The Man replied, “I make boxing-gloves for the tongues of pugilists.”
The Self-Made Monkey
A Man of humble birth and no breading, who held a high political office, was passing through a forest, when he met a Monkey.
“I take it you are one of my constituents,” the Man said.
“No,” replied the Monkey; “but I will support you if you can urge a valid claim to my approval.”
“I am a self-made man,” said the other, proudly.
“That is nothing,” the Monkey said. And going to a bigger pine, he rose by his own unaided exertions to the top branch, where he sat, all bedaubed with the pitch which that vegetable exudes. “Now,” he added, “I am a self-made Monkey.”
The Patriot and the Banker
A Patriot who had taken office poor and retired rich was introduced at a bank where he desired to open an account.
“With pleasure,” said the Honest Banker; “we shall be glad to do business with you; but first you must make yourself an honest man by restoring what you stole from the Government.”
“Good heavens!” cried the Patriot; “if I do that, I shall have nothing to deposit with you.”
“I don’t see that,” the Honest Banker replied. “We are not the whole American people.”
“Ah, I understand,” said the Patriot, musing. “At what sum do you estimate this bank’s proportion of the country’s loss by me?”
“About a dollar,” answered the Honest Banker.
And with a proud consciousness of serving his country wisely and well he charged that sum to the account.
The Mourning Brothers
Observing that he was about to die, an Old Man called his two Sons to his bedside and expounded the situation.
“My children,” said he, “you have not shown me many marks of respect during my life, but you will attest your sorrow for my death. To him who the longer wears a weed upon his hat in memory of me shall go my entire fortune. I have made a will to that effect.”
So when the Old Man was dead each of the youths put a weed upon his hat and wore it until he was himself old, when, seeing that neither would give in, they agreed that the younger should leave off his weeds and the elder give him half of the estate. But when the elder applied for the property he found that there had been an Executor!
Thus were hypocrisy and obstinacy fitly punished.
The Disinterested Arbiter
