The left-hand lower waistcoat pocket contains what the ignorant will esteem scraps of paper. This, however, is the hub and nerve center of my mnemonic system. When I want to remember anything I write it down on a small slip of paper and stick it in that pocket. Before going to bed I clean out the pocket and see how many things I have forgotten during the day. This promotes tranquil rest. The right-hand upper waistcoat pocket is used for wall-paper samples. Here I keep clippings of all the wallpapers at home, so that when buying shirts, ties, socks or books I can be sure to get something that will harmonize. My taste in these matters has sometimes been aspersed, so I am playing safe. The right-hand lower waistcoat pocket is used for small change. This is a one-way pocket; exit only. The inner pocket of my coat is used for railroad timetables, most of which have since been changed. Also a selected assortment of unanswered letters and slips of paper saying, "Call Mr. So-and-so before noon." The first thing to be done by my heirs after collecting the remains must be to communicate with the writers of those letters, to assure them that I was struck down in the fullness of my powers while on the way to the post office to mail an answer. My right-hand coat pocket is for pipes. Left-hand coat pocket for tobacco and matches. The little tin cup strapped in my left armpit is for Swedish matches that failed to ignite. It is an invention of my own. I once intended to allocate a pocket especially for greenbacks, but found it unnecessary. LETTERS TO CYNTHIA I. IN PRAISE OF BOOBS _Dear Sir--What is a Boob? Will you please discuss the subject a little? Perhaps I'm a boob for asking--but I'd like to know_. CYNTHIA. [Illustration] BE FRIENDLY WITH BOOBS The Boob, my dear Cynthia, is Nature's device for mitigating the quaintly blended infelicities of existence. Never be too bitter about the Boob. The Boob is you and me and the man in the elevator. THE BOOB IS HUMANITY'S HOPE As long as the Boob ratio remains high, humanity is safe. The Boob is the last repository of the stalwart virtues. The Boob is faith, hope and charity. The Boob is the hope of conservatives, the terror of radicals and the meal check of cynics. If you are run over on Market Street and left groaning under the mailed fist of a flivver, the Bolsheviki and I.W.W. will be watching the shop windows. It will be the Boob who will come to your aid, even before the cop gets there. 1653 BOOBS If you were to dig a deep and terrible pit in the middle of Chestnut Street, and illuminate it with signs and red lights and placards reading, _DO NOT WALK INTO THIS PIT_, 1653 Boobs would tumble into it during the course of the day. Boobs have faith. They are eager to plunge in where an angel wouldn't even show his periscope. THE BOOB RATIO