“We must surely do something to preserve our neutrality.”

“There is no doubt about it. We must surely do something to preserve neutrality.”

“As we were saying, we must beyond doubt do something to preserve neutrality.”

“Yes, sir! We will notify the Russians that they must leave French waters.”

Her First Pair of Jumpers—“Am I a little boy now, mama?”

Her First Fishing Trip—“I wonder if the fish know I am here.”

“Oh, mamma! Look at the watermelon tree!”

“Did you really think I was a strange little boy, papa?”

Between Two Deadly Perils

The Doctor—“What you need, Mrs. Scadsworth, is lots of outdoor exercise—horseback riding, walking, mountain air.”

Mrs. Scadsworth arrives at the mountain resort and takes some exercise between the breakfast room and the card room.

Where she and her friends start a game of Bridge.

Which continues without interruption during her stay in the mountains.

Professor—“Is there any solitude in the world greater than that of a stranger in a great city?”

“Well, surely, a man need not be lonely with an institution like that close at hand.”

Professor—“I like intellectual ladies, but I’m afraid she’s too intellectual for me. I’ll hire No. 20.”

The Professor and his guide, No. 20, see the sights.

The Popular Novelist—“Now I’m going to write a great novel on American farm life and I think I’ll go out and find the real type—the kind with chin whiskers who says: ‘B’ gosh, I’ll jest swan to Guiney.’”

“Say, Bub, I’m looking for a typical farmer like this. Do you know of any farmers around here?”

“My Pa’s a farmer, but he’s gone over to town to get a new tire for his auto. You might ask Ma, over there. She’s reading about the yacht races.”

“Great Scott! is this the farmer of to-day? I haven’t heard any of them say ‘B’ gosh, I’ll jest swan to Guiney,’ and none of them looks like the jay pictures.”

“Won’t you stay for supper and drive over to the Chautauqua meeting afterward?”

“No, thank you; I’m going back to town.”

Farmers (inspecting corn crop)—“Well, boys, things look mighty blue for a good corn crop unless we get some good, sweltering hot weather pretty soon. The corn looks mighty skimpy. Just look at them ears—they ought to lop over instead of standin’ straight up.”

“Hooray! That’s the stuff, Mr. Sun. You can’t make it too hot for us. Just listen to the corn grow.”

The Sewing-Machine Agent—“Morning, gents. Hain’t this sun fierce? I wish it would blow up a frost or a good heavy rain and cool off things a bit.”

“My Dear Husband—I arrived here last evening, and O, I’m having the loveliest time. It is perfectly grand here—all so quiet and restful, too. This morning I intended to take a long walk before breakfast, but the maid was so slow in hooking me up that breakfast was all over when I got down.”

“After taking a bite or two I put on my riding habit, but by that time it was so near the luncheon hour that I decided to wait until after I had eaten. And besides, I found that I could get no horse. I wore my embroidered grenadine at luncheon. It was really the prettiest gown on the veranda. I’m just having a perfectly lovely time here!”

“We all intended to walk over to the golf links after luncheon, but when I had put on my walking suit it was time to dress for dinner. So we walked a little way and then returned.”

“The big dining-room was perfectly gorgeous. It was all lit up, and so were all the women. I wore my new lace net robe trimmed with Russian applique, and I really was very easy to look at, although the men all strained their eyes. This has been a heavenly day, and I do so wish you were here, but, poor boy, I suppose you must stay at home and work. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy this unconventional life after my long winter of endless dinners and receptions. It is such a relief to be able to do as one pleases. Please have Hester send me the new gowns as soon as they come from the dressmaker’s, as I positively have nothing to wear.”—Your Devoted Wife.

“What is father striking for, mother? Higher wages?”
“No, dear. The wages are satisfactory.”
“Is he striking for shorter hours?”
“No, dear. The hours are satisfactory. It’s a sympathetic strike.”
“Sympathy for us, mother?”
“No, dear.”

Is it This—“Well, Bill, you won’t have to hang to-morrow. The governor has signed your reprieve.”

Or is it This—“There! your last tooth is filled and you won’t have to come again for years.”

Or is it This—“Hooray, Charley! your ticket has won the capital prize in the lottery!”

No, it is this.

Is it that which is experienced by the poor North Pole seeker whose ship is wrecked, leaving him stranded on an iceberg with nothing to eat but candles, and nothing to drink but dew, and no dew at that?

Or is it the shipwrecked mariner who has drifted for many days on the face of the deep with no place to land but on the shores of an island inhabited by anti-vegetarians?

Or is it the poor Christian who is on the eve of playing an important part in a Turkish massacre?

No! The only real misery is that felt by the small boy who has to go to school this fine circus weather.

“Well, which story shall I tell you—the one about the time I was wounded, or the time I swam the river after the chickens?”

Nice Old Gentleman—“Well, my young friend, I suppose you know what this glorious holiday means?”
Young Gentleman, Celebrating—“Sure, but I don’t care. My pa’s a doctor.”

“I s’pose they’re just sitting down to dinner now.”

“We’re gunna have ice-cream for supper.”

“Me brudder said to give ut to youse.”

“Ah, this is very sad. What caused your poor
grandmother’s untimely end?”

“Sir?”

“What did she die of?”

“Don’t it say in de letter?”

“No, Jimmy has not mentioned the disease. Was
it pneumonia?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was she sick long?”

“Sir?”

“How long was she sick? A couple of years?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So Jimmy’s home with his grandmother now?”

“No, sir.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s waitin’ outside.”

“You bet I’m goin’ to be a soldier, too, like my Uncle David, when I grow up.”

“Gee! I wonder how soon recess is?”

“Ma says mebbe if we’re good we can eat at the first table to-morrow.”

Mamma—“Don’t come in here, children! Run out and play like a good little girl and boy.”

Papa—“Don’t come in here! Run out and play, kids. Run along now.”

“I wonder why everybody always wants us to run out and play. I wonder why.”

“I s’pose that R.S.V.P. means ‘Remember to Send Valuable Presents.’”

“We want to go to the Sunday-school. Where is it at?”

“And now is it Christmas, mamma?”
“Yes, dear, this is Christmas morning at last.”
“Why it looks just like any other day. I thought it was gunna be bigger. It looks bigger on the calendar.”

Extract from “London Times,” August 18, 1911—In the war maneuvres yesterday, Honorary Colonel Roosevelt, of the Brixton Rough Riders, led his regiment in an extraordinarily fine charge up Ludgate Hill, arriving at the top some hours before his regiment. The king witnessed the charge from a safe position on the obelisk. There was quite a panic in Lombard Street, many of the leading financiers hastily retiring to Hyde Park upon hearing that the gallant colonel was to make the charge. Some of them are still missing, but doubtless will soon be found. One hundred and sixty women fainted, nineteen horses ran away, and one unfortunate man had his leg broken while trying to climb Trafalgar Monument. The dome of St. Paul’s will be repaired within the next fortnight.

The President Receives a few Delegations of Visitors in the State Dining-Room at the White House.

Mr. Cleveland’s Picture of Himself and Miss Democracy.

President Roosevelt, by Vox Populi

On the Eve of the Republican Convention

The Delegate—“They say the night of June 21 is the shortest of the year, but, by geminy, it seems the longest to me.”

The editor of the “Anaconda Avalanche” finds that they have not made provision for his staff.

The Lay of the Delegate—“I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls.”

News From the Firing Line

“Gentlemen of the convention, I rise to nominate for Vice-President that peerless statesman, that grand old Jeffersonian Democrat, that wealthy patriot, Mr.—Mr.—ahem—Mr.—”

“—that wealthy patriot, Mr. Davis, whose name is a household word in Elkins, West Virginia. It is moved and seconded that the nomination be made unanimous.”

“He is therefore nominated and the convention is adjourned.”

Late Wednesday night a dark figure was seen to emerge from the neighboring gloom and deposit a mysterious bundle in the middle of a vast and lonely prairie. Plaintive cries were heard to issue from the bundle.

The figure then stealthily departed, leaving the bundle in the midst of the prairie.

No important clues were left by which the identity of the dark figure could be traced. A close search developed several slight clues, which, though slight, may lead to detection. A copy of the Kansas City platform was found nearby; also a copy of “The Commoner”; also a card marked “W.J.B.”; also a well-thumbed photograph of Grover Cleveland; and also several bound volumes of speeches, entitled “Free Silver Speeches, by W. J. Bryan.” The child that was deserted had its name artistically worked on a bib and was very weak from long exposure.

Mayor Harrison to Judge Parker—“Judge Parker, I promise you the electoral vote of Illinois. And more than that—”

“I promise you the electoral vote of Wisconsin! And that is not all—”

“I promise you the electoral vote of Indiana! And while I’m at it—”