single line of it this morning."

"Well," said the editor, "what further proof do you want?"

Many of the best and most effective stories are serious in character.
One that has been used successfully is this: Some gentlemen from the
West were excited and troubled about the commissions or omissions of the
administration. President Lincoln heard them patiently, and then
replied: "Gentlemen, suppose all the property you were worth was in
gold, and you had put it in the hands of Blondin to carry across the
Niagara River on a rope; would you shake the cable, or keep shouting out
to him--'Blondin, stand up a little straighter--Blondin, stoop a little
more--go a little faster--lean a little more to the north--lean a little
more to the south?' No, you would hold your breath as well as your
tongue, and keep your hands off until he was safe over. The Government
is carrying an immense weight. Untold treasures are in our hands. We are
doing the very best we can. Don't badger us. Keep silence, and we'll get
you safe across."

Punning is of course out of fashion. The best pun in the English
language is Tom Hood's:

"He went and told the sexton,
And the sexton tolled the bell."

Dr. Johnson said that the pun was the lowest order of wit. Newspapers
formerly indulged in it freely. One editor would say: "We don't care a
straw what Shakespeare said--a rose by any other name would not smell as
wheat." Then another paper would answer: "Such puns are barley
tolerable, they amaize us, they arouse our righteous corn, and they turn