e is no respecter of persons. Shameless and unconcerned, he tells
the story of his life over and over again. Outside of the ballot-box he
is the greatest repeater that we have.

Jokes are of three kinds--plain, illustrated and pointless. Frequently
they are all three.

No joke is without honor, except in its own country. Jokes form one of
our staples and employ an army of workers who toil night and day to turn
out the often neatly finished product. The importation of jokes while
considerable is not as great as it might be, as the flavor is lost in
transit.

Jokes are used in the household as an antiseptic. As scenebreakers they
have no equal.--_Life_.

Here's to the joke, the good old joke,
The joke that our fathers told;
It is ready tonight and is jolly and bright
As it was in the days of old.

When Adam was young it was on his tongue,
And Noah got in the swim
By telling the jest as the brightest and best
That ever happened to him.

So here's to the joke, the good old joke--
We'll hear it again tonight.
It's health we will quaff; that will help us to laugh,
And to treat it in manner polite.

--_Lew Dockstader_.

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it.

--_Shakespeare_.

JOURNALISM

A Louisville journalist was excessively proud of his little boy. Turning
to the old black nurse, "Aunty," said he, stroking the little pate,
"this boy seems to have a journalistic head." "Oh," cried the untutored
old aunty, soothingly, "never you mind 'bout dat; dat'll come right in
time."

John R. McLean, owner of the Cincinnati _Enquirer_ and the Washington
_Post_, tells this story of the days when he was actively in charge of
the Cincinnati newspaper: An _Enquirer_ reporter was sent to a town in
southwestern Ohio to get the story of a woman evangelist who had been
greatly talked about. The reporter attended one of her meetings and
occupied a front seat. When those who wished to be saved were asked to
arise, he kept his seat and used his notebook. The evangelist
approached, and, taking him by the hand, said, "Come to Jesus."

"Madam," said the newspaper man, "I'm here solely on business--to report
your work."

"Brother," said she, "there is no business so important as God's."

"Well, may be not," said the reporter; "but you don't know John R.
McLean."

A newspaper man named Fling
Could make