Page:The Pacific Monthly vol. 14.djvu/142

 appreciated.

Against the Theory of Evolution.

"No, sir," said the man with the long face, solemn mien and sable garb, "I do not be- lieve in the Darwinian theory. I take no stock in the doctrine of the survival of the fittest. I am one who believes implicitly in the old Biblical idea of life and death. Man, like every other animal, is born, lives his al- lotted days, dies, and is buried. There is no evolution from the lower to the higher or- der, there is no natural selection. I can not see that any selection at all is made, natural or unnatural. Some are good, some are bad, and some indifferent. But in the end — and there always is an end — every one, except such as lie unburied, gets his wooden, stone, or lead enclosure and his six feet of earth. ' '

The auditor listened in surprise to one who in this day and age of the world did not be- lieve in evolution, or at least in the survival of the fittest.

' ' I repeat, ' ' said the speaker emphatically, "1 repeat that I do not believe in any of that stuff, especially in that survival business. My business has convinced me otherwise."

"What is your business, may I ask?" in- quired some one in the crowd.

' ' I am an undertaker, ' ' ne replied with a smile like the yawn of the grave.

Fumes from Uncle Rastus' Pipe.

'Pears ter me dat mos' ob der motes dat we all sees in odder folks' eyes am jes' i^lain spots on owah own sj^ecs.

Mos' men, when dey mek up der min's ter get a helpmeet, has er sneakin' notion dat she '11 furnish de meat.

' ' Mek hay when de sun shines ' ' sounds mighty fine ter der man dat's settin' on der po'ch in der shade, sippin' er mint julep.

What's dat? Gwine chloroform all de men when dey gets ter be sixty yeahs ol'? Lawd- a-massy! When 's a man gwiue get time ter 'pent ob all his sins an'- — an' foolishness? Jes' tell me dat. No, suh, I reckon day ain' gwine do dat, 'caze de debbil got 'bout all he kin tek keer ob now.

As the Twig Is Bent.

The heir apparent disturbed his royal father's afternoon slumbers with his piercing screams of rage.

"What's the matter?" asked the Czar of the Chief Nurse.

"He wants something he shouldn't have," replied the Chief Nurse.

"What is it?"

"Those bombs that were taken from the anarchist to-day. He wants to play with them."

"Oh, let him have them. He might as well get used to them whileyoung,"