Poems are made by fools like me,
  But only God can make a tree.

  —­Joyce Kilmer.

TRENCHES

CHEERFUL ONE (to newcomer, on being asked what the trenches are like)—­“If yer stands up yer get sniped; if yer keeps down yer gets drowned; if yer moves about yer gets shelled; and if yer stands still yer gets court-martialed for frost-bite.”—­Punch.

TROUBLE

The cheery caller tried to persuade old Aunt Martha not to dwell upon her troubles, telling her she would feel happier if she ignored them.  “Well, honey,” said the old lady, “I dunno ’bout dat.  I allus ’lowed when de Lord send me tribulation he done spec’ me to tribulate.”

TRUTH

Many truths expressed are never claimed at their destination.

Truth is elastic.  Don’t stretch it unless you want it to fly back and sting you.

FIRST STUDENT (wearily)—­“I suppose I’ll be up all night tonight; I have to make out my expense account.”

SECOND (more hopefully)—­“Why don’t you tell the truth and get a good night’s rest?”

The two village trouble-makers had gotten into a row and the matter was up in court.  Uncle Wash, an old gentleman of color, was a witness.

“Now, uncle,” said the lawyer, “tell me just what conversation occurred.”

“I kain’t jes’ remember it all,” replied the candid Wash, “excep’ dat each one was callin’ de other what dey is.”

“Truth crushed to earth will rise again” said the hopeful person.

“Yes,” replied the cynic; “but it’s liable to have to go with a crutch for some time after.”

UMBRELLAS

“It says here that a Missouri man boasts that he has an umbrella that has been in his possession for twenty years,” said Smith.

“Well,” replied Jones, “that’s long enough.  He ought to return it.”

FIRST ARTIST—­“The umbrella you lent me?  I have lent it to a friend.”

SECOND ARTIST—­“That is very awkward.  The man who lent it to my friend tells him that the owner wants it.”

“Little girl, why aren’t you provided with an umbrella?” “Because father hasn’t been to church this year.”—­Puck.

“Young man,” said the fond father, “in giving you my daughter, I have entrusted you with the dearest treasure of my life.”

The young man was duly impressed and made no endeavor to conceal his emotion and his gratitude.  Then, during the few moments of impressive silence that followed, he heard the patter, patter of rain against the window.

“Goodness me!” he exclaimed, “it’s raining and I haven’t my umbrella!  May I borrow yours, sir, to keep me dry while I run to the station?”

“Young man,” said the fond parent, “I do not trust anyone with my umbrella!”