More Toasts - Various

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      He's just boy—that's all.

      Let him be one while he can: you'll find it pays.

      Jolly little baby brother!

      When the shadows fall

      You'll be wishin' he was back in boyhood days!

      If you'd been in France and seen

      All the things that I have seen—

      Baby faces that will never

      Baby faces be again—

      Say! You wouldn't check that whistle

      For a million iron men!

      Lordy! mother, let him holler!

      He's not hurting anything;

      And he's carefree as a puppy—just that gay.

      Dirty shirt, without a collar—

      Never was a king

      Happy as that baby yonder, yelling at his play.

      Little kiddies over there—

      Solemn eyes and tangled hair—

      Ten years old? That's still a baby!

      What he's doin's baby stuff!

      And the dignity of manhood

      Will be comin' quick enough!

      Let him yell and squeal and whistle,

      Rollin' in the sand;

      Let him have the freedom of the whole back lot.

      Things that hurt like thorn o' thistle

      Workin' in your hand

      You'll be wishin' some time that those things were not!

      When I think of babies—old

      From the things that can't be told—

      And then look at him a-dancin',

      Singin', shoutin', in his joy:

      Don't put out a hand to stop him!

      Mother—let him be a boy!

      William's uncle was a very tall, fine-looking man, while his father was very small. William admired his uncle, and wished to grow up like him. One day he said to his mother:

      "Mama, how did uncle grow so big and tall?"

      His mother said: "Well, when uncle was a small boy he was always a very good boy, and tried to do what was right at all times; so God let him grow up big and tall."

      William thought this over seriously for a few minutes, then said: "Mama, what kind of a boy was papa?"

      See also Office boys.

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      And men relate that Mrs. Newlywed went to the grocery store to do her morning marketing. And she was determined that the grocer should not take advantage of her youth and inexperience.

      "These eggs are dreadfully small," she criticized.

      "I know it," he answered. "But that's the kind the farmer brings me. They are just fresh from the country this morning."

      "Yes," said the bride, "and that's the trouble with those farmers. They are so anxious to get their eggs sold that they take them off the nest too soon!"

      "Hello! Is this you, mother, dear?"

      "Yes, Sue? What is it? Something awful must have happened for you to call me up at this—"

      "It's not so awful. But, John, dear, hasn't been feeling well and the doctor gave him pills to take every four hours. I've been sitting up to give them to him, and now it's about time for the medicine, and John has fallen asleep. Should I wake him?"

      "I wouldn't if I were you. What is he suffering from?"

      "Insomnia."

      WIFE—"Oh, George, do order a rat-trap to be sent home today."

      GEORGE—"But you bought one last week."

      WIFE—"Yes, dear, but there's a rat in that."

      "What kind of coal do you wish, mum?"

      "Dear me, I am so inexperienced in these things. Are there various kinds?"

      "Oh, yes. We have egg coal, chestnut—"

      "I think I'll take egg coal. We have eggs oftener than we have chestnuts."

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      "Where can I find a map of Brooklyn, old man?"

      "There ain't any such thing. No one has ever been able to make one."

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      The brotherhood of man begins with the manhood of the brother.

      To live is not to live for one's self alone; let us help one another.—Menander.

      We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.—Shakespeare.

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      One day Luther Burbank was walking in his garden when he was accosted by an officious acquaintance who said:

      "Well, what are you working on now?"

      "Trying to cross an eggplant and milk-weed," said Mr. Burbank.

      "And what under heaven do you expect from that?"

      Mr. Burbank calmly resumed his walk.

      "Custard pie," he said.

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      There are two reasons why some people don't mind their own business. One is that they haven't any mind, the other that they haven't any business.

      "I'm a very busy man, sir. What is your proposition?"

      "I want to make you rich."

      "Just so. Leave your recipe with me and I'll look it over later. Just now I'm engaged in closing up a little deal by which I expect to make $3.50 in real money."

      A teacher asked those pupils who wanted to go to heaven to raise their hands. All except little Ikey's hands went up. The teacher asked him if he didn't want to go to heaven and Ikey replied that he had heard his father tell his mother that 'Business had all gone to hell' and Ikey wanted to go where the business had gone.

      The vicar's appeal had been a most eloquent one, and had even penetrated the depths of Mr. Blackleigh's granite organ. The latter came forward and offered £50 for the fund.

      The worthy cleric was overjoyed.

      "I don't know your name, sir," he cried; "but I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I thank you! May your business prosper, sir!"

      Then

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