A hustling free-lance in the white goods business thought he saw a magnificent opening to buy up a stock of underwear and by a quick turnover among the jobbers to realize a handsome profit. He succeeded in inducing a Bowery bank to let him have a hundred thousand dollars in order to swing the deal. The deal was swung but for some reason or other the enterprising speculator was not able to move his newly acquired stocks as rapidly as he figured on. One morning the president of the bank sent word to the borrower that he desired to see him immediately and the latter promptly answered the summons. “Look here, Mr. Jacobson,” said the banker, “I’ll have to call your loan and I’ll have to call it immediately.” “But Mr. Slocum,” protested Jacobson, “you couldn’t do that. Still I am all tied up with them goods und I must have more time.” “I’m sorry for you if you’re going to be embarrassed,” said Mr. Slocum, “but I can’t help myself. The state bank examiner was in here yesterday going over our books and he tells me we must clean up a lot of our accounts. Now, your note for a hundred thousand dollars is a demand note, as you will recall, and not a time note, so I must ask you to be able to take up that note not later than Wednesday, the fifteenth of next month.” “Vell,” said Mr. Jacobson resignedly, “that’s the vay things go. Vot has to be has to be, I guess.” He thought for a moment. “Mr. Slocum,” he said, “maybe you have yourself looked into the ins and out of underwear, eh?” “Mr. Jacobson,” said the banker, “I’m not interested in the underwear business.” “Vell,” said Mr. Jacobson softly, “you should be. Because Venesday, the fifteenth, you’re going to be in it.” § 114 Me Lady’s One Weak Point Martin Green, one of the best-known newspaper men in New York, has remarkable memory for faces. Twenty odd years ago he was a reporter in St. Louis. At a summer park he became acquainted with a vaudeville team consisting of a brawny Irishman and the Irishman’s equally brawny Swedish wife. The team had an act which was simple, and yet thrilling. Their stage props consisted of a sledge-hammer and a collection of paving-stones. The pair would come forth from the wings, and the lady would station herself in the centre of the stage and upon her head the gentleman would balance a large, jagged lump of limestone. Then, stepping back, he would swing his sledge-hammer aloft and bring it down with all the force of his mighty arms upon the stone, dashing it into scores of fragments. The lady would blink slightly, take her bow and the couple would back from sight to reappear an hour or so later and repeat the performance.