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No Need

"Do you say prayers at your house before dinner?" the preacher asked the little boy.

"No, Sir, we don't need to," said the boy. "My mother's a good cook."

Rhyme'Em

If your custom€rs object to the fees of architect, And you fear they won't erect house or barn on lines correct, Then you must be circumspect. Make your sales talk indirect so they really can't object, So they really can't object, and a flank attack efiect. Thus you'll quickly recollect plan books treated with neglect.

One of them you will select, bring it out with deep respect, Let your customer inspect all the plans and then dissect, Each in turn; the bad reject, finally the best elect, And the estimate subject to your expert intellect. On the lot the house project, then the price in full collect, And you will your trade protect.

Hobson's Ghoice

An eastern man on a business trip through the west stopped at a small hotel in a country town one day. He entered the dining room and a waiter showed &rim to a table.

"Will you have some pork and beans, sir?" asked the waiter, as he brought a glass of water.

"No," said the eastern man. "I never eat pork and beans."

"Dinner is over then sir," said the waiter, as he moved away.

. On Growing Old

Uncle Joe Cannon said on his eig&rty-ninth birthday:

"The way to grow old is to pay no attention to it. Some men retire from business at sixty or so, build bungalows in Los Angeles, and do nothing afterwards but sit on the front porch and listcn to the hardening of their arteries. That's a bad thing.

"A worse thing is to join one of our y€ar-around seashore colonies. There the men all get to be golf cranks, while their wives, never missirlg an auction in the Japanese shops on the board walk, become auction cranks.

"Once I spent a weekend at a seashore cottage where my host and hostess were cranks of this kind. My bedroom was next to theirs, and I trardly got a wink of sleep, for all night long the golf crank kept yelling out in his dreams-'fesg !'and instantly his auction-crank wife would apsqrsl-(fes1 and a half'."

Nqrrow-Minded

Said one man to anotiher: "You didn't laugh at Smith's joke. I thought it was a good one."

"ft was," said the other, "but I cin't stand Smith. I'll laugh w&ren I get home."

Whor Should You Give o Boy?

What shall you give to one small boy?

A glamorous game, a tinseled toy?

A barlow knife, a puzzlepack, A train that runs on a curving track? A picture book, a real live petNo, there's plenty of time for such th.ings yet. Give h,im aday for his very own, Just one small boy with his dad alone. A walk in the woods, a romp in the park, A fishing trip from dawn to dark, Give the gift that only you can: The companionship of his old man. Games are outgrown, and toys decay, But he'll never forget if you give him a day.

She's only ttre dentist's daughter, but she runs around with the worst set in town.

Whot Do Liberol Arts Meon?

President A. Whitney Griswold, of Yale, is quoted as saying that "the liberal arts" means the arts appropriate for a free man. These, in ancient times, meant grammar, rhetoric, logic, music, arithmetic, geometry and astronomy.

"This is the purpose of the liberal arts," says Dr. Griswold. "It is not to turn out mechanics and businessmen for the workaday trades that we all follow when we graduate from college and start out to make a living. It is to season the timber before it is built into the ship; to prepare tlre apprentice before he becomes apprenticed; to give the engineer a humane conception of the society that he is supposed to be serving with his technological devices and practices; to give the lawyer philosophical and &ristorical breadth; to give all of these enlightenment, taste, virtue and imagination. All these subtle qualities are communicated by properly taught courses in the liberal arts. For 2,000 years in western civilization, given the free choice ttrat sheer poverty and loneliness gave Lincoln, these are the courses that have been chosen-not, if you please, chorus and life adjustment, or how to be a frontiersman."

Conscience

A company received an anonymous letter enclosing a $50 bill. The writer said: "This is money f stole from you; haven't had a good night's sleep since." At th€ bottom of the letter was a P.S. that read: "If I still can't sleep, will send you the balance."

The Midnight Worch (Fire)

A rich man in his years of toil, Burnt barrels and barrels of midnight oil; His son now keeps his memory green By burning midnight gasoline.