the scavenger man, your
cabbage for cigarette smoke; the umpire is doing the best that he
can--he shouldn't be killed as a joke.

THE TWO MERCHANTS

Methinks that clerics, the whole world through, will do much as their
bosses do, for which they're not to blame; for emulation is a part, in
office, drawing room and mart, of this weird human game.

I often go to Jimpson's store; I blow in twice a day or more to buy my
prunes and things. Old Jimpson is a joyous jay; he hustles around the
livelong day, he whistles and he sings. I like to watch the blamed old
chump; I like to see him on the jump, he is so full of steam; and all
his clerks have caught his style; they hump around with cheerful smile,
and do not loaf or dream.

When I blow into Jimpson's lair they all seem glad to see me there and
anxious for my trade; they give me brisk attention then, and sing the
chorus, "Come again!" when from the shop I fade.

Jim Clinker has another store. Jim Clinker's head seem always sore, he
grumbles and he scowls; and all his clerks have caught that trick; they
gloom around the store like sick or broken-hearted owls. When I go in
to buy some tea, a languid salesman waits on me as though it were a
crime to rouse him from his sour repose, his brooding over secret woes,
and occupy his time.

If Clinker's clerks to Jimpson went, they soon would shake their
discontent, and carol like the birds; if Jimpson's clerks for Clinker
toiled their optimism would be spoiled; they'd hand out doleful words.

And so I say, and say some more, that all the salesmen in a store will
emulate their boss; if he is sour on all the works, you may be sure his
string of clerks will be a total loss.

TODAY'S MOTTO

"Love your neighbor as yourself," was a motto famed of yore; now it's
placed upon the shelf, with about a thousand more; now the child on
mother's knee, sees the lovelight in her eyes, while she says:
"Where'er you be, boil the germs and swat the flies!" In the olden
golden days, preachers told the sacred tale of poor Jonah's erring
ways, and his journey in the whale; of the lions in their den, and of
Daniel, good and wise; now they preach this creed to men: "Boil the
germs and swat the flies!" When my dying eyelids close, and the world
is growing dim, while I'm turning up my toes, I may ask to hear a hymn;
and the people by my bed, they will sing, with streaming eyes, while
each humbly bows his head: "Boil the germs and s