GRAVE, GAY, AND EPIGRAMMATIC.
Reading edition
LOVE, THE ILLUSION.
Love is just a cobweb, wet with morning dew; Love is just a fairy spell, invisible to view; A tread—a touch too heavy, and the cobweb is not there! A sigh too long, and lo!—the spell has vanished into air! Love is just a morning-glory, doomed at noon to die; Love is only half a story, told in passing by; Love is gold so delicate, the faintest flame would melt it; Love's—NOTHING; but—God help the man who's never known nor felt it! Helen Rowland in Life.
WON HIS BET.
General Miles, in company with a friend, was walking down Pennsylvania Avenue, when a person, entirely unknown to the veteran soldier, rushed up to him, and grasping his hand, said, warmly, "Well, Nelse, old boy, I'll bet anything you don't remember me!"
"You win!" coldly and laconically replied Miles, as he released himself from the grasp of the stranger and resumed his walk.—Woman's Home Companion.
SORRY HE LEARNED IT.
Attorney William S. Barnes, of San Francisco, has a new office boy. The last boy with whom he was associated resigned a few days ago because the law business did not suit his peculiar temperament.
"How long have you been here?" asked Barnes, when the small boy made known his intention to engage in a different vocation.
"Six months," replied the boy.
"And you don't like the law business?"
"Naw. It's no good, and I tell you straight, I'm mighty sorry I learned it."—Technical World.
WHAT FIELD WANTED.
Eugene Field, sad of countenance and ready of tongue, strayed into a New York restaurant and seated himself at a table. To him there came a swift and voluble waiter, who said:
"Coffee, tea-chocolate, ham 'n' 'ggs—beef-steak—mutton—chop—fishballs—hash'n'—beans," and much more to the same purpose.
Field looked at him long and solemnly, and at last replied:
"Oh, friend, I want none of these things. All I require is an orange and a few kind words."
DECIDEDLY "WILLIN'."
Miss Maude Adams has a favorite story about a certain "Miss Johnsing" and an uncertain "Culpeper Pete."
Pete became enamored of the dusky maiden and not having the courage to "pop" face to face, called up the house where she worked and asked for her over the telephone. When he got her on the line he asked:
"Is dat Miss Johnsing?"
"Ya-as."
"Well, Miss Johnsing, I'se got a most important question to ask you."
"Ya-as."
"Will you marry me?"
"Ya-as! Who is it, please?"—Exchange.
A HEROIC RESCUE.
The following sublime paragraph is from one of the latest fashionable novels:
"With one hand he held her beautiful head above the chilling waves, and with the other called loudly for assistance!"—Exchange.
WHY SHE WAS MADE OF A RIB.
A young woman having asked a surgeon why woman was made from the rib of a man in preference to any other bone, he gave the following gallant answer:
"She was not taken from the head lest she should rule over him; nor from his feet, lest he should trample upon her; but she was taken from his side, that she might be his equal; from under his arm, that he might protect her; from near his heart that he might cherish and love her."—Exchange.
A GRACIOUS JUDGE.
Lord Ellenborough once said to a barrister, upon his asking in the midst of a boring harangue: "Is it the pleasure of the court that I should proceed with my statement?" "Pleasure, Mr. Smith, has been out of the question for a long time, but you may proceed."—Old scrap book.
LIGHT.
The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done. Francis W. Bourdillon.
CURE FOR A NAGGING WIFE.
Having advertised as a widower in search of Wife No. 2, a man of St. Gall, Switzerland, showed the fifty replies and photographs which he had received to his wife, and, stating that if she did not want him there were others who did, he effectively cured her of her "nagging" habits.—Le Petit Parisien.
A RICH RETORT.
It is said of the late Marquis of Townsend that when a young man and engaged in battle, he saw a drummer at his side killed by a cannon ball, which scattered his brains in every direction. His eyes were at once fixed on the ghastly object, which seemed to engross his thoughts.
A superior officer observing him, supposed he was intimidated by the sight, and addressed him in a manner to cheer his spirits.
"Oh," said the young marquis, with calmness but severity, "I am not frightened; I am only puzzled to make out how any man with such a quantity of brains ever came to be here!"—Old scrap book.
GREELEY ON JOURNALISM.
Horace Greeley's favorite poem of his own make was:
Man's a vapor, Full of woes; Starts a paper— Up she goes!
JUST AROUND THE CORNER.
Lloyd Osbourne says that Robert Louis Stevenson once invited a friend to visit him in Samoa. His friend replied that nothing would give him greater pleasure, if he could secure the leisure to do so.
"By the way, Louis," added he, "how do you get to Samoa, anyhow?"
"Oh, easily," responded Stevenson, "you simply go to America, cross the continent to San Francisco, and it's the second turning to the left."—Woman's Home Companion.
THE ANGEL'S KINDNESS.
The recording angel suddenly put his fingers in his ears.
"What was that for?" asked St. Peter, when they had been removed.
"Oh, I saw Brown's new derby hat blow off, just as he was getting on a car," was the explanation of this kind-hearted action.—Smart Set.
DUNBAR'S RESIGNATION.
Paul Laurence Dunbar, the negro poet, is dead. Incomparable in his presentation of his race's language and thoughts, he occupied a unique position in the literary world. W.D. Howells called him the only man of pure African blood and of American civilization to feel the negro life esthetically and express it lyrically. Last year, while he was dying of consumption, he contributed to Lippincott's this verse-sermon of resignation:
Because I had loved so long, God in his great compassion Gave me the gift of song. Because I had loved so vainly And sung with such faltering breath, The Master in infinite mercy Offers the boon of death.
A RETORT TURKISH.
The following we take to be of Turkish origin:
"As a woman was walking, a man looked at and followed her.
"'Why,' said she, 'do you follow me?'
"'Because,' he replied, 'I have fallen in love with you.'
"'Why so? My sister, who is coming after me, is much handsomer than I am. Go and make love to her.'
"The man turned back, and saw a woman with an ugly face, and, being greatly displeased, returned, and said:
"'Why should you tell me a falsehood?'
"The woman answered 'Neither did you tell me the truth; for, if you were in love with me, why did you look back for another woman?'"