At the table I chanced to sit next to a learned professor, head of a
famous college. And during the meal some fiendish spirit induced me to
turn toward him and say:
"Professor, can you tell me who that uncommonly ugly lady is, opposite
to you?"
He looked at me with a wicked smile.
"Sir," he said, "she chances to be my wife."
[Illustration]
Of course I was overwhelmed with confusion, and to crawl out of the hole
I did what any other person would have done under the same
circumstances.
"Pardon me, professor, but I mean the lady on the right."
"And that, sir, is my daughter," he said, solemnly.
Then I flew the coop.
When I was strolling along the Bowery this evening I saw a man come
jumping out of a museum that boasts of more freaks than Barnum's show.
[Illustration]
"Where's the nearest doctor?" he cried, and from his frightened
appearance I felt positive the human snake had gulped down the bearded
lady, or the living skeleton with the ossified bones wanted a tough
joint pulled, or had got stuck in the wastepipe of the sink.
"What's the matter--anything wrong?" I asked.
"Wrong," he yelled, "I should say there was. Why, the sword swallower
has got a pin down his gullet! Show me a doctor, quick!"
A little further along I saw an Irishman being run out of a clothing
store by an irate Jew, who certainly looked as though he couldn't take a
joke.
[Illustration]
The Celt was laughing when I caught up with him.
"What's up?" I asked.
He pointed to the sign that read:
"Great Slaughter in Clothing."
"Sure," said he, "the gossoon was mad clane through because I wint in
and asked to see one av thim kilt suits," and he laughed so hard that he
choked half to death over a set of false teeth.
Speaking of teeth, that was pretty tough on Snyder when his little son
and heir took to giving away family secrets so recklessly.
It seems that Snyder had been treating himself to a new set of teeth.
The youngster thought the event of sufficient importance to be related
to the minister when he called.
And quite naturally the good dominie, much amused, asked what would
become of the old ones.
"Oh, I suppose," replied little James, with a look of resignation;
"they'll cut 'em down and make me wear 'em."
[Illustration]
Snyder's wife is a good general.
She was riding in the car with her little daughter Edith, when the
conductor, thinking perhaps of a half fare, asked:
"How old are you, little girl?"
"You must ask ma," she immediately replied, "'cause she always takes
care of my age in a street car."
Now that was pretty cute, don't you think so?
And my youngest came up smiling recently.
Really, I am worried about that little chap, because I never know
whether he is going to be a fool or a humorist.
Perhaps it doesn't matter much.
On this occasion he had had his first ride in an automobile.
A fellow around the corner bought one recently, and as he wants to get
in my good graces for some reason or other, he asked Harold to go
through the park with him.
That evening I heard my wife, who is very circumspect in all such
matters of etiquette, say:
"Harold, did you thank Mr. Gaycrank for that lovely ride he gave you?"
Harold was reading but did not answer.
So she asked him again.
I knew he heard from the way he looked up, but was surprised that he
made no reply.
"Harold!" she spoke sharply, now.
"Yes, ma," he replied.
"Did you thank Mr. Gaycrank for taking you riding? Why don't you answer
me?"
"I did thank him, ma," whispered Harold, "but he told me not to mention
it."
[Illustration]
Harold was studying geography.