"The shortest after-dinner speech I ever heard," said Cy Warman, the poet, "was at a dinner in Providence."
"A man was assigned to the topic, 'The Christian in Politics.' When he was called upon he arose, bowed and said: 'Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen: The Christian in Politics—he ain't.'"
Politics is but the common pulse-beat of which revolution is the fever spasm.—Wendell Phillips.
POVERTY
Poverty is no disgrace, but that's about all that can be said in its favor.
A traveler passing through the Broad Top Mountain district in northern Bedford County, Pennsylvania, last summer, came across a lad of sixteen cultivating a patch of miserable potatoes. He remarked upon their unpromising appearance and expressed pity for anyone who had to dig a living out of such soil.
"I don't need no pity," said the boy resentfully.