A mighty good sausage stuffer was spoiled when the man became a poet.

Let my temptation be a book, which I shall purchase, hold and keep.

But I, when I undress me Each night, upon my knees Will ask the Lord to bless me With apple-pie and cheese.

What smells so? Has somebody been burning a Rag, or is there a Dead Mule in the Back yard? No, the Man is Smoking a Five-Cent Cigar.

But he who truly loves books loves all books alike, and not only this, but it grieves him that all other men do not share with him this noble passion. Verily, this is the most unselfish of loves!

Let my temptation be a book.

Mr. Clarke played the King all evening as though under constant fear that someone else was about to play the Ace.