I have thought some of Nature’s journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.—­Shakespeare.

    Men are four: 
  He who knows and knows not that he knows,—­
    He is asleep—­wake him;
  He who knows not and knows not that he knows not,—­
    He is a fool—­shun him;
  He who knows not and knows that he knows not,—­
    He is a child—­teach him;
  He who knows and knows that He knows,—­
    He is a king—­follow him.

See also Dogs; Husbands.

MESSAGES

“Have you the rent ready?”

“No, sir; mother’s gone out washing and forgot to put it out for you.”

“Did she tell you she’d forgotten?”

“Yes, sir.”

One of the passengers on a wreck was an exceedingly nervous man, who, while floating in the water, imagined how his friends would acquaint his wife of his fate.  Saved at last, he rushed to the telegraph office and sent this message:  “Dear Pat, I am saved.  Break it gently to my wife.”

METAPHOR

It was a Washington woman, angry because the authorities had closed the woman’s rest-room in the Senate office building, who burst out: 

“It is almost as if the Senate had hurled its glove into the teeth of the advancing wave that is sounding the clarion of equal rights.”

A water consumer in Los Angeles, California, whose supply had been turned off because he wouldn’t pay, wrote to the department as follows: 

“In the matter of shutting off the water on unpaid bills, your company is fast becoming a regular crystallized Russian bureaucracy, running in a groove and deaf to the appeals of reform.  There is no use of your trying to impugn the verity of this indictment by shaking your official heads in the teeth of your own deeds.

“If you will persist in this kind of thing, a widespread conflagration of the populace will be so imminent that it will require only a spark to let loose the dogs of war in our midst.  Will you persist in hurling the corner stone of our personal liberty to your wolfish hounds of collectors, thirsting for its blood?  If you persist, the first thing you know you will have the chariot of a justly indignant revolution rolling along in our midst and gnashing its teeth as it rolls.

“If your rascally collectors are permitted to continue coming to our doors with unblushing footsteps, with cloaks of hypocritical compunction in their mouths, and compel payment from your patrons, this policy will result in cutting the wool off the sheep that lays the golden egg, until you have pumped it dry—­and then farewell, a long farewell, to our vaunted prosperity.”

MICE

“What’s the matter with Briggs?”

“He was getting shaved by a lady barber when a mouse ran across the floor.”—­Life.