SILENCE

I think the first virtue is to restrain the tongue; he approaches nearest to the gods who knows how to be silent, even tho' he is in the right.--_Cato_.

Nothing at times is more expressive than silence.--_George Eliot_.

SIMPLIFIED SPELLING

_See_ Spelling.

SIN

NEW CURATE--"What did you think of the sermon on Sunday, Mrs. Jones?"

PARISHIONER--"Very good indeed, sir. So instructive. We really didn't know what sin was till you came here."

  Know'st thou not all germs of evil     In thy heart await their time?   Not thyself, but God's restraining,     Stays their growth of crime.

  --_Whittier_.

  'Tis fearful building upon any sin;   One mischief enter'd, brings another in:   The second pulls a third, the third draws more,   And they for all the rest set ope the door:   Till custom take away the judging sense,   That to offend we think it no offence.

  --_Smith_.

_See also_ Lies.

SINGERS

A quartette is where all four think the other three can't sing.

SKEPTICS

The heavy black clouds had massed in the east and west, the lightning was flashing fiercely between the heavy incessant rolling of the thunder.

Francis was terribly frightened, and his fond mother had gathered her young hopeful and tried logically to calm his fears.

"Don't be afraid, darling. There's nothing to fear. God sends the thunderstorm to clear the air, water the flowers, and make it cooler for us. Now, don't cry, dear; it won't harm you, and everything will be better when it's over."

The little fellow listened intently, and as his mother finished he looked up at her gravely and said: "No, no, mother; you talk exactly the way you did last week when you took me to the dentist to have the tooth pulled."

  This a sacred rule we find   Among the nicest of mankind,--   To doubt of facts, however true,   Unless they know the causes too.

  --_Churchill_.

SLANG

A Franklin professor says slang has its place, and he might have added that the place seems to be everywhere.

"Do Englishmen understand American slang?"

"Some of them do. Why?"

"My daughter is to be married in London, and the earl has cabled me to come across."

SMILES

Smile! Never let your face look like a funeral; look like a search warrant. The bud that cannot blossom dries up in the stock. Smile, if you have to force it.

When your voice sounds like a benediction, when your face looks like an old lemon, folks are sure to sidestep you.

What you give out you are reasonably sure to take in.

Look for a fight and someone will put a black circle round your left eye.

Remember this: The face is more legible than an open book. You can read the face at a distance and get it all at a glance. The book compels you to thumb the leaves.

Smile, you son-of-a-gun, smile!

             _If I Knew_

  If I knew the box where the smiles are kept,     No matter how large the key,   Or strong the bolt, I would try so hard     'Twould open, I know, for me.   Then over the land and sea, broadcast,     I'd scatter the smiles to play,   That the children's faces might hold them fast     For many and many a day.

  If I knew a box that was large enough     To hold all the frowns I meet,   I would like to gather them, every one,     From nursery, school and street.   Then, folding and holding, I'd pack them in,     And, turning the monster key,   I'd hire a giant to drop the box     To the depths of the deep, deep sea.

"Can you tell me what a smile is?" asked a gentleman of a little girl.

"Yes, sir; it's the whisper of a laugh."

SMOKING

"Have a cigar?"

"No--don't smoke now."

"Sworn off?"

"Nope; stopped entirely."

"Your wife doesn't kick about your smoking up the curtains."

"Nope, she can't have both curtains and coupons."

It was on a passenger train. The conductor in passing through observed a man with a cigar in his mouth. "Hey, you can't smoke in here," he bawled out.

"I'm not smoking," quietly replied the passenger.

"Well, you've got a cigar in your face," shot back the conductor.

"Suppose I have," continued the other good naturedly. "I've got feet in my shoes and I'm not walking."

             _Mark Twain: A Pipe Dream_

  Well I recall how first I met     Mark Twain--an infant barely three   Rolling a tiny cigarette     While cooing on his nurse's knee.

  Since then in every sort of place     I've met with Mark and heard him joke,   Yet how can I describe his face?     I never saw it for the smoke.

  At school he won a smokership,     At Harvard College (Cambridge, Mass.)   His name was soon on every lip,     They made him "smoker" of his class.

  Who will forget his smoking bout     With Mount Vesuvius--our cheers--   When Mount Vesuvius went out     And didn't smoke again for years?

  The news was flashed to England's King,     Who begged Mark Twain to come and stay,   Offered his dukedoms--anything     To smoke the London fog away.

  But Mark was firm. "I bow," said he,     "To no imperial command,   No ducal coronet for me,     My smoke is for my native land!"

  For Mark there waits a brighter crown!     When Peter comes his card to read--   He'll take the sign "No smoking" down,     Then Heaven will be Heaven indeed.

  --_Oliver Herford_.

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