See also Irish bulls; Optimism.

PHILADELPHIA

The city of Philadelphia offers a liberal reward for the most important contribution toward civic improvement.  A fine opportunity for manufacturers of alarm clocks.

PHILANTHROPISTS

WEALTHY BENEFACTRESS (stopping in at the hospital)—­“Well, we’ll bring the car tomorrow, and take some of your patients for a drive.  And, by the bye, nurse, you might pick out some with bandages that show—­the last party might not have been wounded at all, as far as anybody in the streets could see.”—­Punch.

PHILOSOPHY

Rube Wilkins says—­“You can’t get ahead while you’re kickin’ any more than a mule can.”

All philosophy lies in two words, “sustain” and “abstain.” —­Epictetus.

The philosophy of one century is the common sense of the next.—­Henry Ward Beecher.

Philosophy, while it soothes the reason, damps the ambition. —­Bulwer-Lytton.

PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS

See Doctors.

PITTSBURG

PITTSBURG MAN (telephoning to Long Island from New York)—­“Ten cents?  Why, in Pittsburg we can telephone to Hades for a nickel.”

CENTRAL—­“But this is a long-distance call.”

PLEASURE

Pleasures are like liqueurs:  they must be drunk but in small glasses.—­Romainville.

POETRY

EDITOR—­“This isn’t poetry, my dear man; it’s merely an escape of gas.”

WOULD-BE CONTRIBUTOR—­“Ah, I see!  Something wrong with the meter.”

  Your poem must eternal be,
    Dear sir, it can not fail,
  For ’tis incomprehensible,
    And wants both head and tail.

  —­S.T.  Coleridge.

“What is poetry of motion?”

“The kind that’s always going from one editor to another.”

They were dancing the one-step.  The music was heavenly.  The swish of her silken skirts was divine.  The fragrance of the roses upon her bosom was really intoxicating.

“Ah,” she smiled, sweetly, with an arch look up into his face, “you remind me of one of Whitman’s poems.”

A sudden dizziness seemed to seize him.  It was as if he were floating in a dream.  When he had sufficiently gained his breath he spoke: 

“Which one?”

“Oh, any one,” she replied.  “The feet are mixed in all of them.”—­Everybody’s.

POETS

  Sir, I admit your general rule,
  That every poet is a fool,
  But you yourself may serve to show it,
  That every fool is not a poet.