Don’t forget the umpire.  Don’t forget him for one little moment.  He will notice it if you do, and become miserably unhappy.  Tell him what you think of him unceasingly.  There is nothing so pleasing to an umpire’s ears as the sweet strains of a whiskey-trimmed voice ringing softly on the evening air:  “Hey, red-light, youse is a robber an’ a thief!” Umpires love to be criticised in this manner.  With every criticism they brace up wonderfully, and their straying sense of justice returns.  You’ve noticed this fact, of course.

Don’t hesitate to insult a player on the field.  Remember, it is very hard for him to pick you out of the crowd.  Besides, if he does, and jumps over the rail for the purpose of putting his imprint on your slats, you can scream for help.  The police will probably wake up and come to your assistance.

Don’t forget to use the most blood-curdling and decorative style of language now on the market when you engage in the pleasing duty of hurting a player’s feelings.  This will attract attention to you from all quarters, and will stamp you as a gentleman of the aber-nit style of architecture.

Don’t pay any attention to the uneasiness displayed by those about you who came out for the selfish purpose of enjoying the game.  If they cannot enjoy you and your lung-power exhibit, they should stay at home.  Keep right on utilizing your vocal chords.  Chatter on incessantly.  Be a consistent ass until the last man is out and the umpire crawls into his cyclone cellar.  Then go home and bathe what’s left of your voice in witch hazel, and get ready for the morrow.

BURSTS OF CONFIDENCE.

A trouble-hunter always makes a success of his job.

The girl who hesitates is left at the hitching post.

The world has a poor memory for many who believe themselves famous.

The wise man saves up for a rainy day, and always stays in the house when it storms.

It keeps many a good man down to keep up appearances.

Some men are like a phonograph—­they talk when you start them, but they have no originality.

THE POOR MAN’S COOK BOOK.

(Presented by the President of the Food Trust.)

This Cook Book was invented by the President of the Food Trust with the hope that the poor man will find therein much to comfort him since meat and other luxuries have gone out of his life, because the Trust needs the money.

The beauty about the dishes mentioned here is their cheapness.  Let us begin with the soup: 

MOCK CHICKEN SOUP.—­Take a piece of white paper and a lead pencil and draw from memory the outlines of a hen.  Then carefully remove the feathers.  Pour one gallon of boiling water into a saucepan and sprinkle a pinch of salt on the hen’s tail.  Now let it simper.  If the soup has a blonde appearance stir it with a lead pencil which will make it more of a brunette.  Let it boil two hours.  Then coax the hen away from the saucepan and serve the soup hot, with a glass of ice-water on the side.