STATISTICS

“If a man had put a hundred dollars in a savings bank twenty years ago,” said the statistician after dinner, “it would amount to over two hundred now, and he could buy almost as much for it now as he could have got for the original hundred at the time he began to save.”

STENOGRAPHERS

“How many stenographers have you?”

“Two.”

“I’ve seen only one of them.”

“Well, I’ve got a worse looking one to show my wife.”

“I met your husband today and he was telling me that he is in love with his work.”

“Was he, indeed?  I must take a look in at the office.”

A Long-Merited Toast

I used to toast the royal queens
And queens of beauty rare;
I drained my glass to lovely lass
And to her eyes and hair;
But in these day of sober drinks
There’s one whose health to me
Means vastly more than beauty or
The blood of royalty: 

  Here’s to my stenographer! 
    Long faithful to her duty. 
  She’d win no prize for vampish eyes;
    Her freckles mar her beauty. 
  Here’s to her!  Her specs!  Her brain! 
    I pledge her health in water! 
  Cool, sober, staid, a precious maid;
    I love her—­like a daughter!

  She keeps my creditors at bay,
    Admitting only debtors;
  Collects the rent when she is sent,
    Or writes dry business letters;
  She always puts her fingers on
    The paper I require;
  Sums I can’t add she’s always glad
    To do, and doesn’t tire.

  Here’s to her bonny, busy hands! 
    They never are erratic. 
  I hope that they will type away
    For years, nor grow rheumatic! 
  Here’s to her modest salary! 
    (I’d blush if I should tell it!)
  But for her grit I’d have to quit
    My business—­couldn’t sell it.

  _—­Stanley R. Hofflund_.

A Chicago banker dictating a letter to his stenographer.  “Tell Mr. Soandso,” he ordered, “that I will meet him in Schenectady.”

“How do you spell Schenectady?” asked the stenographer.

“S-c, S-c—­er—­er—­er—–­ Tell him I’ll meet him in Albany.”

Stenographers can nod sometimes, even with the accuracy of the dictating machine.  Recently a merchant dictating into one of these machines said: 

“The gentleman in question has sold our products in Hayti for a period of over two years, and we have always found him satisfactory in every detail.”

All came out all right in the transcription except one word, and that word was the change from Hayti to Hades!  And the letter, being “dictated but not read,” went!

“I seem to remember that girl.  Who is she?”

“She was my typewriter last year.”

“She’s charming!  Why did she leave you?”

“She was too conscientious for me.  One day I proposed marriage to her, and what do you think she did?  She took all that I said down in shorthand and brought it, nicely type-written, for me to sign!”