“Is water beneficent? I ask of the rolling tides which, in obedience to the command of the Almighty, ebb and flow at their ordained times, now retreating, now advancing, upon the wave-kissed beach. I ask of the oceans which bring to us the freighted argosies of other climes. I ask of the rivers which bear upon their currents the commerce of nations, making possible communication and intercourse between peoples. Yea, verily, water is beneficent.
“Is water benign? Consider the dews which freshen the flowers of the field and make glad and glorious the summer morn. Consider the rains which descend upon the parched and arid desert, causing fragrant blossom to burgeon where before there was but sand and waste. Consider the harnessed power of dashing streams which turns the wheels and gives impetus to applied industry. Consider these things and then dare to say water is not benign!
“Is water beautiful? The answer is found in impetuous Niagara. It is found in the roaring cataract, in the purling brook, in the racing mountain torrent, and upon the bosom of the sheltered lake illumined with the glorious colors of the sinking sun, and reflecting, as a mirror, every shifting play of radiance from the skies, every dancing frond of the lofty evergreens caressed by the breezes of the evening. It is found in the teardrop of the mother as she bids her son go forth to fight for his imperiled country.
“Never, while man has speech, is it to be gainsaid that water is beneficent, that it is benign, that it is beautiful. But, gentlemen, as a beverage it is a dadburned failure!”
§ 365 Staving Off the Fatal Blow
“Rabin,” said Mr. Moscovitz to his friend, “I think I have lost a pocketbook with two hundred dollars in it.”
“Have you looked for it good?” asked Mr. Rabin.
“Sure I have looked,” said the desolated one. “I have looked in all my coat pockets, in all my vest pockets, in my front pants pockets and in one of my hip pockets—and nowheres it ain’t there.”
“Why don’t you look in the other hip pocket?” asked Mr. Rabin.
“Because,” said the stricken Mr. Moscovitz, “that’s the last pocket I got.”