—­Martial; tr. by Paul Nixon.

ETIQUET

A Boston girl the other day said to a southern friend who was visiting her, as two men rose in a car to give them seats:  “Oh, I wish they would not do it.”

“Why not?  I think it is very nice of them,” said her friend, settling herself comfortably.

“Yes, but one can’t thank them, you know, and it is so awkward.”

“Can’t thank them!  Why not?”

“Why, you would not speak to a strange man, would you?” said the Boston maiden, to the astonishment of her southern friend.

A little girl on the train to Pittsburgh was chewing gum.  Not only that, but she insisted on pulling it out in long strings and letting it fall back into her mouth again.

“Mabel!” said her mother in a horrified whisper.  “Mabel, don’t do that.  Chew your gum like a little lady.”

LITTLE BROTHER—­“What’s etiquet?”

LITTLE BIGGER BROTHER—­“It’s saying ‘No, thank you,’ when you want to holler ‘Gimme!’”—­Judge.

  A Lady there was of Antigua,
  Who said to her spouse, “What a pig you are!”
    He answered, “My queen,
    Is it manners you mean,
  Or do you refer to my figure?”

  —­Gilbert K. Chesterton.

They were at dinner and the dainties were on the table.

“Will you take tart or pudding?” asked Papa of Tommy.

“Tart,” said Tommy promptly.

His father sighed as he recalled the many lessons on manners he had given the boy.

“Tart, what?” he queried kindly.

But Tommy’s eyes were glued on the pastry.

“Tart, what?” asked the father again, sharply this time.

“Tart, first,” answered Tommy triumphantly.

TOMMY’S AUNT—­“Won’t you have another piece of cake, Tommy?”

TOMMY (on a visit)—­“No, I thank you.”

TOMMY’S AUNT—­“You seem to be suffering from loss of appetite.”

TOMMY—­“That ain’t loss of appetite.  What I’m sufferin’ from is politeness.”

  There was a young man so benighted,
  He never knew when he was slighted;
    He would go to a party,
    And eat just as hearty,
  As if he’d been really invited.

EUROPEAN WAR

OFFICER (as Private Atkins worms his way toward the enemy)—­“You fool! 
Come back at once!”

TOMMY—­“No bally fear, sir!  There’s a hornet in the trench.”—­Punch.

“You can tell an Englishman nowadays by the way he holds his head up.”

“Pride, eh?”

“No, Zeppelin neck.”

LITTLE GIRL (who has been sitting very still with a seraphic expression)—­“I wish I was an angel, mother!”

MOTHER—­“What makes you say that, darling?”

LITTLE GIRL—­“Because then I could drop bombs on the Germans!”—­Punch.

From a sailor’s letter to his wife: