"Not in all things, my boy. A man will always put up a sign 'Look out for paint,' but did you ever know a woman to do it? Not on your sweet life."
I never realized before how forgetful sailors are as a class, until the fact was brought to my attention last summer down at the Long Island resort we patronized.
Why, they had to weigh their anchor every time they left port—you'd think they could remember the weight easy enough.
And speaking about sailors reminds me of a queer old character I once knew down at the docks.
For more than thirty years he had labored faithfully at the same job, and stepped up to be paid every Saturday night.
But at last there came a ruler "who knew not Joseph," and the order went out that the old man be discharged to make room for some younger favorite.
His son brought the sad news to him.
It seemed to stupefy the old fellow.