Therefore, every May 1st, something Red and about the size of a Caboose backed up to the Jumps’.  Several husky Boys began throwing Things out of the Windows.

Father did a Vanishing Act.  When it came to lifting one corner of a Piano or hanging Pictures he was a sad Bluff and he knew it.

“How about Paradise?” he asked one day.  “I understand that inside of the Pearly Gates, each Family has Permanent Quarters.  There are no Folding Beds to juggle down Back Stairways, no Picture Cords to Shorten, no Curtain Poles to saw off, no Book Cases to get jammed in Stairways.  I am sure there will be no Piano Movers, for I have heard their Language.  Do you think you can be happy in the Promised Land?”

“It will depend entirely on whether or not the Rugs fit,” she replied.

“Let us hope for the Best,” said Mr. Jump.

* * * * *

MORAL:  The Queen of the May is usually a Woman.

* * * * *

THE BATCH OF LETTERS, OR ONE DAY WITH A BUSY MAN

One Morning an energetic little Man who had about a Ton of Work piled up on his Desk came down Town with a Hop, Skip and Jump determined to clean up the whole Lay-Out before Nightfall.

He had taken eight hours of Slumber and a cold Dip in the Porcelain.  After Breakfast he came out into the Spring Sunshine feeling as fit as a Fiddle and as snippy as a young Colt.

“Me to the Office to get that Stack of Letters off my Mind,” said the Hopeful Citizen.

When he dashed into the Office he carried 220 pounds of Steam and was keen for the Attack.

A tall Man with tan Whiskers arose from behind the roll-top Desk and greeted him.

“How are you feeling this Morning?” asked the Stranger.

“Swell and Sassy,” was the Reply.

“And yet, to-morrow you may join the Appendicitis Colony and day after to-morrow you may lie in the darkened Front Room with Floral Offerings on all sides,” said the Stranger.  “What you want is one of our non-reversible, twenty-year, pneumatic Policies with the Reserve Fund Clause.  Kindly glance at this Chart.  Suppose you take the reactionable Endowment with the special Proviso permitting the accumulation of both Premium and Interest.  On a $10,000 Policy for 20 Years you make $8,800 clear, whether you live or die, while the Company loses $3,867.44 as you can see for yourself.”

“This is my—­” began the Man.

“Or, you may prefer the automatic tontine Policy with ball-bearings,” continued the Death Angel.  “In this case, the entire Residue goes into the Sinking Fund and draws Compound Interest.  This is made possible under our new System of reducing Operating Expenses to a Minimum and putting the Executive Department into the Hands of well-known New York Financiers who do not seek Pecuniary Reward but are actuated by a Philanthropic Desire to do good to all Persons living west of the Alleghenies.”