by Dorothy Dix.
Illustration by Wm. J. Steinigans.
HERE was once a Sagacious Youth, with a High Brow, who Opined that the World owed him a Living.
“It is all very well,” he reflected, “for Ordinary Dubs who have not been blessed with a Superabundance of Gray Matter as I have, to Strain on the Collar in the Tread Mill of Business, but the very thought of Work makes me Tired, and I apprehend that there are Easier ways of getting the Pelf than by Earning it.
“It is, of course, a Good Thing that not every one is as Brilliant as I am, for if they were the world would blow up with Spontaneous Combustion. It really pains me to see others toiling along day after day for Measly Salaries, when they might have money coming to them on Wings if they only used their Wits instead of their Paws.”
With that the Sagacious Youth worked out a system that was a Sure Thing on paper for Divorcing the Public from its Long Green.
“There was once a Sagacious Youth with a High Brow.”