"Oh! worse than that! Arthur writes me from Carlsbad that he would die with grief at being absent from me, were it not that he gazes at my picture and covers it with a thousand kisses every day."
"That is very nice of him; but surely you are not crying about that? Most woman would give anything to have such a poetic and devoted husband."
"Oh, yes, Arthur is very poetical; but you don't know. Just to try him, I put mother's photo into his traveling bag instead of my own, and the wretch has never found it out. Boo-hoo-hoo!"
—Pick-Me Up.
Another Kind of Habit.
Old Grinder (to seedy applicant for job)—I hope that no bad habits have brought you to this poverty?
Borrowit—One, sir.
"Ah, I am glad you are frank about it. What was it?"