LUCK

VICAR—"Nothing to be thankful for! Why, think of poor old Hodge losing his wife through the flu!"

GILES—"Well, that don't do me no good. I ain't Hodge."

Good luck is the gayest of all gay girls;

Long in one place she will not stay:

Back from your brow she strokes the curls,

Kisses you quick and flies away.

But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes

And stays—no fancy has she for flitting;

Snatches of true-love songs she hums,

And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting.

—John Hay.

YOUNG SON—"What is luck, father?"

FATHER—"Luck, my son, is something that enables another fellow to succeed where we have failed."