He was a four year old Oklahoma Fountleroy, in knee pants, and with golden curls that would make an angel envious. His face still wore the divine beauty of the cradle, and his large, luminous eyes reflected an innocence unspotted of the world.

But the carpenter on the building did not appreciate his company. He was always in the way. So the carpenter thought he would frighten him away, by a story of horrible danger.

"Do you see that big man coming there?" said the carpenter to him.

The child nodded a.s.sent.

"Well," continued the carpenter; "you would better run away before he gets you. That big man eats a boy for breakfast every morning, and he may eat you."

A look of ineffable scorn slowly penetrated beneath the curls. The large, innocent eyes took on an expression of supreme contempt. Then the angel indifferently said:

"I ate a boy once; he was a n.i.g.g.e.r!"

Caught on the Fly.

A drummer is known by the stories he tells.

Don't be in a hurry to do a mean thing. You'll have plenty of time to get sorry if you put it off until day after tomorrow.

When a man stops to count the cost of a n.o.ble deed, temptation has already stormed and captured the fortifications of his honor.

The $1 bill is a very popular brand among the people, but if history makes no mistake, it takes the $1,000 bill to secure votes in the Missouri legislature.

The Kingbolt Philosopher.

"I notice," said Uncle Ezra Mudge, "Thet the self-made man is always kept so busy tellin' about the fine job of work he turned out, thet he never has time to get the roof on an' the doors an' winders hung. A self-made feller generally shows a rough job put together with dull tools an' in mighty poor taste when you git to lookin' at it real clost, an' it could be mightily improved on by a middlin' sight of polishin', wood-filler an' hard-oil, well rubbed in!"

"What Shall It Matter, Dear?"

I.

What shall it matter, Dear, how goes the weather.-- We with our hands and our hearts linked together,-- We with our faces, till daisies we're under, Set to the skies with their welcomes of wonder.

II.

What shall it matter, Dear, how goes the battle?

Something is greater than all of its rattle, Something that gladdens the heart with the story Telling of Love and Love's infinite glory.

III.

What shall it matter, Dear, how the world use us?

'Tis but a show and its antics amuse us!

World that knows nothing of all our sweet gladness And of the love that dispels every sadness!

IV.

What shall it matter, then, what shall it matter?

Peace still awaits after all of earth's clatter!

Peace still awaits, all our love-dreams adorning, There in the bliss of the Glorified Morning!

Caught on the Fly.

Life's experiences are very much the same as when we go fishing. The biggest fish always gets away. But even then we have a pretty good feast on the minnows.

Yesterday is life's departed king; tomorrow holds all the possibilities of clown and emperor. Only today wears the glittering crown and the purple robes of power.

Don't pray for what you want, and quit with the prayer. Spit on your hands and grab it as it hurries by.

The lawn-mower is quite a play thing for the city-bred man, but in the interest of humanity he ought to be vaccinated against the back ache.

"When the 'Phone Bell Rings."

It's no difference what you're doing, Whether you're asleep or ain't, When the 'phone begins pursuing It will catch you,--no complaint!

For its call is strong and steady, And it always answer brings, For you hurry with your "ready!"

When the 'phone bell rings!

O, it interrupts your vision With its long, unceasing howl; It dispels your dreams elysian With insistence fresh and foul!

O, it summons you at meal-times With a joy that stays and clings, Till you swear it's always de'il-times When the 'phone bell rings!

It's no matter where you're straying,-- In the garden, barn or bed, There's no time to spend in praying.

Or in playing, quick or dead; And if Gabriel "in that morning"

Wants a good old trump that swings, Just let "central" sound his warning While the 'phone bells rings!