"Then he hasn't given up all jokes," she retorted, with fine scorn.

"Tee-he-hee!" laughed the School-master. "Pretty good, Mrs.
Smithers--pretty good."

"Yes," said the Idiot. "That is good, and, by Jove! it differs from your
butter, Mrs. Smithers, because it's entirely fresh. It's good enough to
print, and I don't think the butter is."

"What did your friend do next?" asked Mr. Whitechoker.

"He was employed by a funeral director in Philadelphia to write obituary
verses for memorial cards."

"And was he successful?"

"For a time; but he lost his position because of an error made by a
careless compositor in a marble-yard. He had written,

"'Here lies the hero of a hundred fights--
Approximated he a perfect man;
He fought for country and his country's rights,
And in the hottest battles led the van.'"

"Fine in sentiment and in execution!" observed Mr. Whitechoker.

"Truly so," returned the Idiot. "But when the compositor in the
marble-yard got it engraved on the monument, my friend was away, and
when the army post that was to pay the bill received the monument, the
quatrain read,