Don’t fail to dispute the count after every hand has been played.  It draws attention to the fact that you are anxious to win.  It also draws uncomplimentary remarks from your opponents and sometimes occasions the use of a club.

Don’t fall off the chair in horrified dismay when your opponent puts your ace to sleep with a little trump.  Trumps were invented for that purpose, and horrified dismay is not becoming to every style of beauty.

A FEW HARMLESS GERMS.

How the rest of the world does hate the people who have a good time.

A Miss is as good as a mile of Misses—­if you love the girl.

The horseshoe is always lucky—­when the horse wins.

A hard worker will never be arrested for killing time.

One half the world doesn’t know why the other half doesn’t get off the earth.

Be good and you’ll be happy, but you won’t get your name in the papers so often.

BASEBALL.

Being a Guide for the Grouchy Grandstandee.

These “do nots” have been arranged, compiled and hammered together with a view to rendering assistance to the spectator whose thinking machinery climbs out over his collar, and who shows symptoms of being dazed and disorderly during the progress of a game.

Don’t have any regard for the feelings of your neighbors.  Get up on the slightest provocation and yell.  To make matters more exciting you had better get up on the back of the seat also.

Don’t stop to make a careful selection of the English language before addressing the universe at large when the play is not to your liking.  Say the first thing that comes into your mind.  Doubtless, it will be glad to get out.

Don’t pay any attention to the fact that ladies are in the immediate neighborhood.  Your money is just as good as theirs.  Besides, it’s a man’s privilege to swear and make a howling idiot of himself.

Don’t fail to keep up a running comment on the general inefficiency of the visiting club.  The majority of those who sit near you came out to the game especially to hear your views on this subject.

Don’t neglect to call him a fat-headed renegade every time one of the home players makes an error.  The home players need to be reproved at times, and nothing is quite so reproving as the term fat-headed renegade hurled at them by a bibulous gentleman with a subterbeerean voice.

Don’t hesitate to tell all who are listening—­and, if your voice is as convalescent as usual, everybody in your section of the Western Hemisphere will have to listen—­that you know more about the game than Pop Anson and Pop Anson’s younger brother, Methuselah.  Under certain circumstances modesty is a crime; therefore, you should not commit a crime by withholding this information.