I wonder just what kind of guy
Am I? 
I guess it’s time I took
A look inside of me
To see—­
But, gee,
I cuss
I’m envious of what the other fellow’s got,
I loaf a lot,
And foolish pleasures often buy—­
That is the kind of sham
I am. 
When things go wrong
I growl along
And take it out
On some good scout
Who’s not to blame,
Whatever came—­
In fact
The luck I lacked
(Or luck I had,
If mine was bad)
Was mostly my
Own fault.  Why. 
I
Am not a very pleasant guy,
The poorest on the human shelf—­
And, now that I
Size up myself,
Whatever other folks may see,
I do not make a hit with Me.

  —­Douglas Malloch.

EINSTEIN

“Max has sent me an interesting book, ‘Relativity,’ by Einstein.  Have you read it?”

“No.  I am waiting for it to be filmed.”

EMBARRASSING SITUATIONS

The wife of a Dorchester man who had the traditional failing—­he forgot to mail letters—­has cured him.  The mail is delivered at their home before the breakfast hour—­which is comparatively late.  One morning she said to her husband: 

“Did you have any mail this morning, dear?”

“Only a circular,” he answered as he bit into a fine brown slice of toast.

“Huh,” said the wife.  “By the way, did you mail the letters I gave you yesterday?”

“Sure I did,” was the righteously indignant reply.

“Well,” answered wifie, with an eloquent smile, “it’s funny, then, you had no letters this morning, because one of those I gave you to mail was addressed to you—­just as a sort of key.”

Callers were at the door and Bobbie was told to show them into the parlor.  He did so, and while his mother was fixing herself up, he sat there rather embarrassed.  Presently, seeing the visitors glancing around the room, he said: 

“Well, what do you think of our stuff, anyway?”

KIND FRIEND (to composer who has just played his newly written revue masterpiece)—­“Yes, I’ve always liked that little thing.  Now play one of your own, won’t you?”

Evelyn is very cowardly, and her father decided to have a serious talk with his little daughter.

“Father,” she said at the close of his lecture, “when you see a cow, ain’t you ’fraid?”

“No, certainly not, Evelyn.”

“When you see a bumblebee, ain’t you ’fraid?”

“No!” with scorn.

“Ain’t you ’fraid when it thunders?”

“No,” with laughter.  “Oh, you silly, silly child!”

“Papa,” said Evelyn, solemnly, “ain’t you ’fraid of nothing in the world but mama?”

Afraid to breathe, almost, the returned reveller crept quietly into his bedchamber as the gray dawn was breaking.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he cautiously undid his boots.  But, with all his care, his wife stirred in bed, and he presently was all too well aware of a pair of sleepy eyes regarding him over the edge of the sheet.