Camp life is just one canned thing after another.
CANDIDATES
"When I first decided to allow the people of Tupelo to use my name as a candidate for Congress, I went out to a neighboring parish to speak,"
said Private John Allen recently to some friends at the old Metropolitan Hotel in Washington.
"An old darky came up to greet me after the meeting. 'Marse Allen,' he said, 'I's powerful glad to see you. I's known ob you sense you was a babby. Knew yoh pappy long befo' you-all wuz bohn, too. He used to hold de same office you got now. I 'members how he held dat same office fo'
years an' years.'
"'What office do you mean, uncle?' I asked, as I never knew pop held any office.
"'Why, de office ob candidate, Marse John; yoh pappy was candidate fo'
many years.'"
A good story is told on the later Senator Vance. He was traveling down in North Carolina, when he met an old darky one Sunday morning. He had known the old man for many years, so he took the liberty of inquiring where he was going.
"I am, sah, pedestrianin' my appointed way to de tabernacle of de Lord."
"Are you an Episcopalian?" inquired Vance.
"No, sah, I can't say dat I am an Epispokapillian."
"Maybe you are a Baptist?"
"No, sah, I can't say dat I's ever been buried wid de Lord in de waters of baptism."
"Oh, I see you are a Methodist."
"No, sah, I can't say dat I's one of dose who hold to argyments of de faith of de Medodists."
"What are you, then, uncle?"
"I's a Presbyterian, Marse Zeb, just de same as you is."
"Oh nonsense, uncle, you don't mean to say that you subscribe to all the articles of the Presbyterian faith?"
"'Deed I do sah."
"Do you believe in the doctrine of election to be saved?"
"Yas, sah, I b'lieve in the doctrine of 'lection most firmly and un'quivactin'ly."
"Well then tell me do you believe that I am elected to be saved?"
The old darky hesitated. There was undoubtedly a terrific struggle going on in his mind between his veracity and his desire to be polite to the Senator. Finally he compromised by saying:
"Well, I'll tell you how it is, Marse Zeb. You see I's never heard of anybody bein' 'lected to anything for what they wasn't a candidate. Has you, sah?"
A political office in a small town was vacant. The office paid $250 a year and there was keen competition for it. One of the candidates, Ezekiel Hicks, was a shrewd old fellow, and a neat campaign fund was turned over to him. To the astonishment of all, however, he was defeated.
"I can't account for it," said one of the leaders of Hicks' party, gloomily.
"With that money we should have won. How did you lay it out, Ezekiel."
"Well," said Ezekiel, slowly pulling his whiskers, "yer see that office only pays $250 a year salary, an' I didn't see no sense in paying $900 out to get the office, so I bought a little truck farm instead."
The little daughter of a Democratic candidate for a local office in Saratoga County, New York, when told that her father had got the nomination, cried out, "Oh, mama, do they ever die of it?"
"I am willing," said the candidate, after he had hit the table a terrible blow with his fist, "to trust the people."
"Gee!" yelled a little man in the audience. "I wish you'd open a grocery."
"Now, Mr. Blank," said a temperance advocate to a candidate for municipal honors, "I want to ask you a question. Do you ever take alcoholic drinks?"
"Before I answer the question," responded the wary candidate,
"I want to know whether it is put as an inquiry or as an invitation!"
_See also_ Politicians.
CANNING AND PRESERVING
A canner, exceedingly canny, One morning remarked to his granny, "A canner can can Anything that he can; But a canner can't can a can, can he?"
--Carolyn Wells.
CAPITALISTS
Of the late Bishop Charles G. Grafton a Fond du Lac man said: "Bishop Grafton was remarkable for the neatness and point of his pulpit utterances. Once, during a disastrous strike, a capitalist of Fond du Lac arose in a church meeting and asked leave to speak. The bishop gave him the floor, and the man delivered himself of a long panegyric upon captains of industry, upon the good they do by giving men work, by booming the country, by reducing the cost of production, and so forth.
When the capitalist had finished his self-praise and, flushed and satisfied, had sat down again, Bishop Grafton rose and said with quiet significance: 'Is there any other sinner that would like to say a word?'"