" It was now their Turn to do the Forgetful Business.
The Tablets of his Memory read as clear as Type-Writing. Upon meeting
any Friend of his Boyhood he did the Shoulder-Slap, and rang in the Auld
Lang Syne Gag. He was so Democratic he was ready to Borrow from the
Humblest. The same Acquaintances who had tried to Stand In with him when
Things were coming his Way, were cutting off Street-Corners and getting
down behind their Newspapers to escape the Affectionate Massage,
beginning at the Hand and extending to the Shoulder-Blade. It was No
Use. He remembered them all, and no one got Past him.
MORAL: _Don't begin to Forget until you have it in Government Bonds._
_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ HE-GOSSIP _AND THE_ MAN'S WIFE _AND THE_ MAN
Once upon a time there was a He-Gossip named Cyrenius Bizzy. Mr. Bizzy
was Middle-Aged and had a Set of dark Chinchillas. He carried a
Gold-Headed Cane on Sunday. His Job on this Earth was to put on a pair
of Pneumatic Sneakers every Morning and go out and Investigate Other
People's Affairs.
He called himself a Reformer, and he did all his Sleuthing in the line
of Duty.
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