MAUDE—­“His creditors.”

RICH MAN—­“Would you love my daughter just as much if she had no money?”

SUITOR—­“Why, certainly!”

RICH MAN—­“That’s sufficient.  I don’t want any idiots in this family.”

  ’Tis better to have lived and loved
  Than never to have lived at all.

  —­Judge.

May we have those in our arms that we love in our hearts.

Here’s to love, the only fire against which there is no insurance.

  Here’s to those that I love;
  Here’s to those who love me;
  Here’s to those who love those that I love. 
  Here’s to those who love those who love me.

It is best to love wisely, no doubt; but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.—­Thackeray.

Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, Hast thou more of pain or pleasure! * * * * * * * * * Endless torments dwell about thee:  Yet who would live, and live without thee!

  —­Addison.

    O, love, love, love! 
    Love is like a dizziness;
  It winna let a poor body
      Gang about his biziness!

  —­Hogg.

Let the man who does not wish to be idle, fall in love.—­Ovid.

LOYALTY

Jenkins, a newly wedded suburbanite, kissed his wife goodby the other morning, and, telling her he would be home at six o’clock that evening, got into his auto and started for town.

At six o’clock no hubby had appeared, and the little wife began to get nervous.  When the hour of midnight arrived she could bear the suspense no longer, so she aroused her father and sent him off to the telegraph office with six telegrams to as many brother Elks living in town, asking each if her husband was stopping with him overnight.

Morning came, and the frantic wife had received no intelligence of the missing man.  As dawn appeared, a farm wagon containing a farmer and the derelict husband drove up to the house, while behind the wagon trailed the broken-down auto.  Almost simultaneously came a messenger boy with an answer to one of the telegrams, followed at intervals by five others.  All of them read: 

“Yes, John is spending the night with me.”—­Bush Phillips.

BOY—­“Come quick, there’s a man been fighting my father more’n half an hour.”

POLICEMAN—­“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

BOY—­“’Cause father was getting the best of it till a few minutes ago.”

LUCK

Some people are so fond of ill-luck that they run half-way to meet it.—­Douglas Jerrold.

  O, once in each man’s life, at least,
    Good luck knocks at his door;
  And wit to seize the flitting guest
    Need never hunger more. 
  But while the loitering idler waits
    Good luck beside his fire,
  The bold heart storms at fortunes gates,
    And conquers its desire.