“Well, then, why don’t they trade back?”

“I reckon they are both afraid of getting skinned again.”

MOTHER—­“Joan, darling, run and call Fido, will you?”

JOAN—­“I don’t see how I can, mummy, ‘cos I aren’t speakin’ to Fido since he broke my doll!”

“It was mighty nice of you to give up your seat to that stout old lady, Mr. Blinks.  It is pleasant to see that there are still some polite men left in the world.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Jabbers, but it wasn’t politeness at all.  The man who sat next to me was quarrelsome because he said I crowded him too much, and all I did was to use that stout old lady as a sort of retort courteous.”—­Judge.  “All sorts and conditions of men have excellent explanations for their position in life,” said the Senator.  “A tramp, however, came under my observation who had no illusions about the cause of his own condition.

“A fine looking and fashionably dressed woman had just alighted from her limousine at the hotel entrance, and was suddenly approached by this shabbily dressed man who requested a dime.

“’No, I have no money to spare for you.  I do not see why an able-bodied man like you should go about begging.’”

“‘I s’ppose, ma’am,’ replied the lazy tramp, ’it’s fer about the same reason that a healthy woman like you boards at a hotel instead of keepin’ house.’”—­Harper’s.

Apropos of foreign honesty, Dr. Nicholas Butler tells this story: 

“On a foreign railroad,” he said, “a commuter had a row with the conductor.  At the end of the row the commuter turned to a friend and said: 

“’Well, the P.D.R. will never see another cent of my money after this.’

“The conductor, who was departing, looked back and snarled: 

“‘What’ll you do?  Walk?’

“‘Oh, no,’ said the commuter, ’I’ll stop buying tickets and pay my fare to you.’”

ROADS

“How are the roads in this section?” “Fine,” replied Farmer Corntossel.  “We’ve abolished bad roads.”  “Big job, wasn’t it?” “Not at all.  Wherever the going is ’specially hard we don’t call it a ‘road.’  We call it a ‘detour.’”

ROOSEVELT, THEODORE

“One beautiful autumn day,” said the teacher, telling a story, “Little Red Riding Hood was walking along a path in the woods when she came to a sharp turn; and whom do you think she saw standing there, with a row of shining white teeth gleaming at her?”

Up went a little hand.

“Who was it, Willie?”

“Mister Roosevelt.”

RUINS

An English nobleman was about to set out for India, and, fearing that in his absence vandals might destroy a picturesque ruin on his estate, he said to his steward:  “I want you to build a wall here”—­he drew a tiny furrow with his stick around the ruin—­“a stone wall five feet high.”