“So, dad, you think I am wasting my time in writing for the local papers and cite Johnson’s saying that the man who writes, except for money, is a fool.  I shall act upon Doctor Johnson’s suggestion and write for money.  Send me fifty dollars.”

The president of an eastern university had just announced in chapel that the freshman class was the largest enrolled in the history of the institution.  Immediately he followed the announcement by reading the text for the morning:  “Lord, how are they increased that trouble me!”

STUDE.—­“Is it possible to confide a secret to you?”

FRIEND—­“Certainly.  I will be as silent as the grave.”

STUDE—­“Well, then, I have a pressing need for two bucks.”

FRIEND—­“Do not worry.  It is as if I had heard nothing.” —­_-Michigan
Gargoyle_.

“Why did you come to college, anyway?  You are not studying,” said the Professor.

“Well,” said Willie, “I don’t know exactly myself.  Mother says it is to fit me for the Presidency; Uncle Bill, to sow my wild oats; Sis, to get a chum for her to marry, and Pa, to bankrupt the family.”

A young Irishman at college in want of twenty-five dollars wrote to his uncle as follows: 

“Dear Uncle.—­If you could see how I blush for shame while I am writing, you would pity me.  Do you know why?  Because I have to ask you for a few dollars, and do not know how to express myself.  It is impossible for me to tell you.  I prefer to die.  I send you this by messenger, who will wait for an answer.  Believe me, my dearest uncle, your most obedient and affectionate nephew.

“P.S.—­Overcome with shame for what I have written, I have been running after the messenger in order to take the letter from him, but I cannot catch him.  Heaven grant that something may happen to stop him, or that this letter may get lost.”

The uncle was naturally touched, but was equal to the emergency.  He replied as follows: 

    “My Dear Jack—­Console yourself and blush no more.  Providence
    has heard your prayers.  The messenger lost your letter.  Your
    affectionate uncle.”

The professor was delivering the final lecture of the term.  He dwelt with much emphasis on the fact that each student should devote all the intervening time preparing for the final examinations.

“The examination papers are now in the hands of the printer.  Are there any questions to be asked?”

Silence prevailed.  Suddenly a voice from the rear inquired: 

“Who’s the printer?”

It was Commencement Day at a well-known woman’s college, and the father of one of the young women came to attend the graduation exercises.  He was presented to the president, who said, “I congratulate you, sir, upon your extremely large and affectionate family.”

“Large and affectionate?” he stammered and looking very much surprised.