Appealing to a lady for aid, an old darky told her that through the Dayton flood he had lost everything he had in the world, including his wife and six children.
“Why,” said the lady, “I have seen you before and I have helped you. Were you not the colored man who told me you had lost your wife and six children by the sinking of the Titanic?”
“Yeth, ma’am, dat wuz me. Mos’ unfort’nit man dat eber wuz. Kain’t keep a fam’ly nohow.”
An old lady, who was sitting on the porch of a hotel at Asheville, North Carolina, where also there were a number of youngsters, was approached by one of them with this query:
“Can you crack nuts?”
The old lady smiled and said: “No, my dear, I can’t. I lost all my teeth years ago.”
“Then,” said the boy, extending two hands full of walnuts, “please hold these while I go and get some more.”
Governor Capper, of Kansas, recently pointed out what he deemed to be the “matter with Kansas.” The average Kansan, he said, gets up in the morning in a house made in Michigan, at the sound of an alarm clock made in Illinois; puts on his Missouri overalls; washes his hands with Cincinnati soap in a Pennsylvania basin; sits down to a Grand Rapids table; eats Battle Creek breakfast food and Chicago bacon cooked on a Michigan range; puts New York harness on a span of Missouri mules and hitches them to a South Bend wagon, or starts up his Illinois tractor with a Moline plow attached. After the day’s work he rides down town in a Detroit automobile, buys a box of St. Louis candy for his wife, and spins back home, where he listens to music “canned” in New Jersey.
Charles M. Schwab, congratulated in Pittsburgh on a large war order contract which he had just received from one of the warring nations, said:
“Some people call it luck, but they are mistaken. Whatever success I have is due to hard work and not to luck.
“I remember a New York business man who crossed the ocean with me one winter when the whole country was suffering from hard times.
“‘And you. Mr. Schwab,’ the New Yorker said, ’are, like the rest of us, I suppose, hoping for better things?’
“‘No, my friend,’ I replied. ’No, I am not hoping for better things. I’ve got my sleeves rolled up and I’m working for them.’”
Twice as the horse-bus slowly wended its way up the steep hill the door at the rear opened and slammed. At first those inside paid little heed, but the third time they demanded to know why they should be disturbed in this fashion.