AMBITION


Oliver Herford sat next to a soulful poetess at dinner one night, and
that dreamy one turned her sad eyes upon him. "Have you no other
ambition, Mr. Herford," she demanded, "than to force people to degrade
themselves by laughter?"

Yes, Herford had an ambition. A whale of an ambition. Some day he hoped
to gratify it.

The woman rested her elbows on the table and propped her face in her
long, sad hands, and glowed into Mr. Herford's eyes. "Oh, Mr. Herford,"
she said, "Oliver! Tell me about it."

"I want to throw an egg into an electric fan," said Herford, simply.


"Hubby," said the observant wife, "the janitor of these flats is a
bachelor."

"What of it?"

"I really think he is becoming interested in our oldest daughter."

"There you go again with your pipe dreams! Last week it was a duke."


The chief end of a man in New York is dissipation; in Boston,