The principal characters are an Irishman, with red whiskers, and a Hebrew with black whiskers. They fall into an argument over the relative glories of the two great races they severally represent. It is finally proposed by the Semitic debater that for every great Jew he names he shall be permitted to pluck one hair from his adversary’s face. For every famous Irishman listed the other man may claim the tribute of a hair from the Jew’s beard. The first to cry enough, or the first to be entirely denuded will be the loser. A chosen referee gives the signal for the start. It is the Jew’s turn. “Moses,” he cries, and yanks a hair from the Irishman’s chin. “Brian Boru,” shouts his opponent. “Abraham.” “St. Patrick.” “Baron Hirsch.” “Daniel O’Connell.” “Rothschild.” “Jawn L. Sullivan.” Inspiration seizes the Hebrew. “The Twelve Apostles,” he whoops exultingly, and snatches an even dozen of auburn hairs from where they grew. With a triumphant whooroo the Irishman fixes both his hands in the Hebrew’s beard: “The A.O.H.!” he bellows, and brings away the entire crop. § 268 Filling a Long-Felt Want An amateur investigator made a trip to a state lunatic asylum. While strolling about the grounds he happened upon an old man of a benign aspect sitting under a tree. “Good evening,” said the venerable gentleman. “A stranger here I assume?” “Yes,” said the caller. “I am. I take it that you, too, are a visitor.” “Unfortunately,” said the old gentleman, “I am an inmate.” “But—pardon me—but you don’t look like——” began the astonished stranger. “I’m not, either,” said the old gentleman. “My son, I am the victim of circumstances. Members of my family coveted my property. On trumped up charges they had me declared of unsound mind, and I was railroaded off from my home and brought to this place where I have ever since been in confinement. And yet, if only the truth were known, I am engaged in a great scientific literary work—an undertaking which has busied me for many years and which, if justice is ever done, will some day make my name famous throughout the English-speaking world.” “And what, may I ask, is this work?” “I am engaged,” said the old gentleman, “in compiling a complete index to The Unabridged Dictionary.” § 269 Spoken from the Heart Out In an effort to link practice with preaching, the Sunday-school teacher asked her class of small boys to recite appropriate quotations from the Scriptures as they added their free will offerings to the regular collection. The youngsters had a week in which to find and memorize suitable texts. On the following Sunday the scholars advanced, one by one, each with a coin ready and his brow furrowed by the effort of trying to remember the quotation he meant to deliver. First, as was fitting, came the brag pupil and, as he deposited a dime in the plate, he said: “The Lord loveth a cheerful giver.”