PERSPIRING TEACHER—­“Well it might come in handy in case of fire or shipwreck.”—­Cornell Widow.

  The devil hath not, in all his quiver’s choice,
  An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

  —­Byron.

WAGES

“Me gotta da good job,” said Pictro, as he gave the monkey a little more line after grinding out on his organ a selection from “Santa Lucia.”  “Getta forty dollar da month and eata myself; thirty da month if da boss eata me.”

Commenting on the comparatively small salaries allowed by Congress for services rendered in the executive branch of the Government and the more liberal pay of some of the officials, a man in public life said: 

“It reminds me of the way a gang of laborers used to be paid down my way.  The money was thrown at a ladder, and what stuck to the rungs went to the workers, while that which fell through went to the bosses.”

A certain prominent lawyer of Toronto is in the habit of lecturing his office staff from the junior partner down, and Tommy, the office boy, comes in for his full share of the admonition.  That his words were appreciated was made evident to the lawyer by a conversation between Tommy and another office boy on the same floor which he recently overheard.

“Wotcher wages?” asked the other boy.

“Ten thousand a year,” replied Tommy.

“Aw, g’wan!”

“Sure,” insisted Tommy, unabashed.  “Four dollars a week in cash, an’ de rest in legal advice.”

While an Irishman was gazing in the window of a Washington bookstore the following sign caught his eye: 

  DICKENS’ WORKS
  ALL THIS WEEK FOR
  ONLY $4.OO

“The divvle he does!” exclaimed Pat in disgust.  “The dirty scab!”

The difference between wages and salary is—­when you receive wages you save two dollars a month, when you receive salary you borrow two dollars a month.

He is well paid that is well satisfied.—­Shakespeare.

The ideal social state is not that in which each gets an equal amount of wealth, but in which each gets in proportion to his contribution to the general stock.—­Henry George.

WAITERS

Recipe for a waiter: 

  Stuff a hired dress-suit case with an effort to please,
    Add a half-dozen stumbles and trips;
  Remove his right thumb from the cranberry sauce,
    Roll in crumbs, melted butter and tips.

  —­Life.

WAR

“Flag of truce, Excellency.”

“Well, what do the revolutionists want?”

“They would like to exchange a couple of Generals for a can of condensed milk.”

If you favor war, dig a trench in your backyard, fill it half full of water, crawl into it, and stay there for a day or two without anything to eat, get a lunatic to shoot at you with a brace of revolvers and a machine gun, and you will have something just as good, and you will save your country a great deal of expense.