his passenger: "'Scuse me, boss; whar
d' you say you wanter go?"

"To a haberdasher's."

"Yaas, suh; yaas, suh." After another block there was the same
performance: "'Scuse me, boss, but whar d' you say you wanter go?"

"To a haberdasher's," was the somewhat impatient reply.

Then came the final appeal: "Now, look-a-here, boss, I be'n drivin'
in dis town twenty year', an' I ain't never give nobody away yit. Now,
you jes tell dis nigger whar't is you wanter go."

CONGRESS

"How is the law made?" asked the instructor in United States history.

"Oh," replied the maiden, cheerfully, "the Senate has to ratify it;
and then the President has to--has to veto it; and then the House
of Representatives has to"--she hesitated for a moment, and knit her
pretty forehead.

"Oh, yes! I remember now," she said. "The House of Representatives has
to adjourn until the next session!"

"Has this bill been endorsed by the Prohibition party?"

"Yes."

"And met with the approval of the I.W.W. and the Bolsheviki?"

"Yes."

"And O.K.'d by Mr. Hearst?"

"Certainly."

"Then instruct Congress to pass it as another great measure restoring
the rights of the people."

CONSCIENCE

Wilson and Wilton were discussing the moralities when the first put
this question: "Well, what is conscience, anyhow?"

"Conscience," said Wilton, who prides himself upon being a bit of a
pessimist, "is the thing we always believe should bother the other
fellow."

A young fellow who was the crack sprinter of his town--somewhere in
the South--was unfortunate enough to have a very dilatory laundress.
One evening, when he was out for a practice run in his rather airy and
abbreviated track costume, he chanced to dash past the house of that
dusky lady, who at the time was a couple of weeks in arrears with his
washing.

He had scarcely reached home again when the bell rang furiously and an
excited voice was wafted in from the porch:

"Foh de Lawd's sake! won't you-all tell Marse Bob please not to go out
no moh till I kin git his clo'es round to him?"

Many a man feels that he could be quite comfortable if his conscience
would meet him halfway.

CONSCRIPTION

He was a homesick colored soldier in a labor battalion, and he saw no
chance of a discharge.

"De nex' wah dey has," he announced to a friend, "dey's two men dat
ain't goin'--me an' de man dey sends to git me."

A negro registrant from a farming district was ca