"Another petition!" exclaimed the banker. "No, I
never sign them offhand—not any more. I used to
do so—once to my sorrow and to the amusement of my
friends. Leave yours with me till day after to-morrow and
I'll consider it. I have at least four more now on the waiting 5
list, ranging in subject from the Removal of a Soap Factory
to a Bridge Across the Pacific. Every business man is
hounded week in and week out with petitions."

I reluctantly surrendered my long scroll with its formidable
list of signatures. "But the one that you once signed—what 10
of that?"

"Oh, that one? Well, there was a bright newsboy down
on the square whose booth had been removed from a street
corner because of a petition to the Police Commissioner.
Of course everybody had signed the petition; for signing 15
petitions was considered the proper thing if certain names
headed the list. It came to be a roster of the best families
in town. This newsboy retaliated—in kind. He drafted
and circulated a petition that was in due form. Everybody,
including myself, signed it. Next day it was published in20
full with the names of its signers, by all our city papers, and
by night everybody in the state was laughing at us.

"The petition recited that a sundial in Central Park, the
gift of a wealthy citizen, was weathering badly. It should
be protected. That sounded reasonable, so everybody 25
signed just below the name of everybody else. And what
had we petitioned for? A roof to cover that sundial!

"You'll get no hasty signatures to a petition in this
city—we remember the sundial!"