Memory and Imagination had a discussion as to which was the greater. “Without me,” said Memory, “your buildings, your fine castles, would all go down. I alone give you power to retain them.”
“Without me,” said Imagination, “there would be no use of retaining them, for, indeed, they wouldn’t be there. I am the great builder.”
“And I the great recorder.”
“It appears, then, that no one of us is greater than the other. Yet I would not change places with you.”
“Why not?” said Memory.
“Because,” replied Imagination, “without you I can still keep on creating over and over.”
At the end of a year Memory came back.
“What have you done?” asked Memory.
“Nothing,” said Imagination.
“And you were wrong when you said that without me you could still go on creating.”
“Yes. I did not realize how dependent I was upon you. What have you been doing during the year?”
“Reviewing some old friends. That was all I could do.”
“Then we are practically equal.”
“Yes. Let us live together hereafter in harmony, carrying on our door this legend:
There is no Memory without
And no Imagination without
Speaking at a political gathering, Congressman Frederick W. Dallinger, of Massachusetts, referred to the many amusing incidents of the schoolrooms, and related a little incident along that line.
A teacher in a public school was instructing a youthful class in English when she paused and turned to a small boy named Jimmy Brown.
“James,” said she, “write on the board, ’Richard can ride the mule if he wants to,’”
This Jimmie proceeded to do to the satisfaction of all concerned.
“Now, then,” continued the teacher when Jimmy had returned to his place, “can you find a better form for that sentence?”
“Yes, ma’am,” was the prompt response of Jimmy. “’Richard can ride the mule if the mule wants him to.’”
Some years before the war the German Crown Prince got a very neat call-down from Miss Bernice Willard, a Philadelphia girl. It was during the Emperor’s regatta, and the two mentioned were sitting with others on the deck of a yacht. A whiff of smoke from the Prince’s cigarette blowing into the young lady’s face, a lieutenant near by remarked:
“Smoke withers flowers.”
“It is no flower,” said the prince, jocularly, “it is a thistle.”
Miss Willard raised her eyes a trifle.
“In that case,” she said, “I had better retire or I shall be devoured”