Jenkins was always trying to borrow money, and his friends had begun to avoid him.
One morning he tackled an acquaintance in the street before the latter had a chance to escape.
"I say, old man," began Jenkins, "I'm in a terrible fix. I want some money badly, and I haven't the slightest idea where on earth I'm going to get it from."
"Glad to hear it, my boy," returned the other promptly. "I was afraid that you might have an idea you could borrow it from me."
One of the shrewd lairds of Lanarkshire had evidently experienced the difficulties of collecting money lent to friends.
"Laird," a neighbor accosted him one morning, "I need twenty poonds. If ye'll be guid enough to tak ma note, ye'll hae yere money back agin in three months frae the day."
"Nae, Donald," replied the laird, "I canna do it."
"But, laird, ye hae often done the like fer yere friends."