“When I was a young man,” said Mr. Cumrox, “I thought nothing of working twelve or fourteen hours a day.”

“Father,” replied the young man with sporty clothes, “I wish you wouldn’t mention it.  Those non-union sentiments are liable to make you unpopular.”

No good man ever became suddenly rich.—­Syrus.

  And all to leave what with his toil he won,
  To that unfeather’d two-legged thing, a son.

  —­Dryden.

See also Capitalists.

MINORITIES

Stepping out between the acts at the first production of one of his plays, Bernard Shaw said to the audience: 

“What do you think of it?”

This startled everybody for the time being, but presently a man in the pit assembled his scattered wits and cried: 

“Rotten!”

Shaw made a curtsey and melted the house with one of his Irish smiles.

“My friend,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and indicating the crowd in front, “I quite agree with you, but what are we two against so many?”

MISERS

  There was an old man of Nantucket
  Who kept all his cash in a bucket;
    But his daughter, named Nan,
    Ran away with a man—­
  And as for the bucket, Nantucket.

A mere madness, to live like a wretch, and die rich.—­Robert Burton.

MISSIONARIES

SHE—­“Poor cousin Jack!  And to be eaten by those wretched cannibals!”

HE—­“Yes, my dear child; but he gave them their first taste in religion!”

At a meeting of the Women’s Foreign Missionary Society in a large city church a discussion arose among the members present as to the race of people that inhabited a far-away land.  Some insisted that they were not a man-eating people; others that they were known to be cannibals.  However, the question was finally decided by a minister’s widow, who said: 

“I beg pardon for interrupting, Mrs. Chairman, but I can assure you that they are cannibals.  My husband was a missionary there and they ate him.”

MISSIONS

“What in the world are you up to, Hilda?” exclaimed Mrs. Bale, as she entered the nursery where her six-year-old daughter was stuffing broken toys, headless dolls, ragged clothes and general debris into an open box.

“Why, mother,” cried Hilda, “can’t you see?  I’m packing a missionary box just the way the ladies do; and it’s all right,” she added reassuringly, “I haven’t put in a single thing that’s any good at all!”

MISTAKEN IDENTITY

  There was a young fellow named Paul,
  Who went to a fancy dress ball;
    They say, just for fun
    He dressed up like a bun,
  And was “et” by a dog in the hall.