A young man entered the jeweler’s store and bought a ring, which he ordered engraved.  The jeweler asked what name.

“George Osborne to Harriet Lewis, but I prefer only the initials, G.O. to H.L.”

For it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him.—­Shakespeare.

PROHIBITION

“Talking about dry towns, have you ever been in Leavenworth, Kansas?” asked the commercial traveler in the smoking-car.  “No?  Well, that’s a dry town for you, all right.”

“They can’t sell liquor at all there?” asked one of the men.

“Only if you had been bitten by a snake,” said the drummer.  “They have only one snake in town, and when I got to it the other day after standing in line for nearly half a day it was too tired to bite.”

It was prohibition country.  As soon as the train pulled up, a seedy little man with a covered basket on his arm hurried to the open windows of the smoker and exhibited a quart bottle filled with rich, dark fluid.

“Want to buy some nice cold tea?” he asked, with just the suspicion of a wink.

Two thirsty-looking cattlemen brightened visibly, and each paid a dollar for a bottle.

“Wait until you get outer the station before you take a drink,” the little man cautioned them.  “I don’t wanter get in trouble.”

He found three other customers before the train pulled out, in each case repeating his warning.

“You seem to be doing a pretty good business,” remarked a man who had watched it all.  “But I don’t see why you’d run any more risk of getting in trouble if they took a drink before the train started.”

“Ye don’t, hey?  Well, what them bottles had in ’em, pardner, was real cold tea.”

PROMOTING

Mr. Harcourt, the Secretary of State for the Colonies, at the British North Borneo dinner, said that a City friend of his was approached with a view to floating a rubber company.  His friend was quite ready.  “How many trees have you?” he asked.  “We have not got any trees,” was the answer.  “How much land have you?” “We have no land.”  “What then have you got?” “I have a bag of seeds!”

There are many tales about the caution of Russell Sage and the cleverness with which he outwitted those who sought to get some of his money from him.  Two brilliant promoters went to him one time and presented a scheme.  The financier listened for an hour, and when they departed they were told that Mr. Sage’s decision would be mailed to them in a few days.

“I think we have got Uncle Russell,” said one of the promoters.  “I really believe we have won his confidence.”

“I fear not,” observed the other doubtfully.  “He is too suspicious.”

“Suspicious?  I didn’t observe any sign of it.”