surely--they argued to themselves--have been drunk. Hoping to get
favorable particulars, the judge advocate put a further question.
“And why did the major wish to be called early?” he asked.
“Faith, an’ he tould me it was because he was to be Queen of the May,”
came the answer.
That settled it.
* * * * *
A college professor, noted for his concentration of thought, returned
home from a scientific meeting one night, still pondering deeply upon
the subject that had been discussed. As he entered his room he heard a
noise that seemed to come from under the bed.
“Is there some one there?” he asked absently.
“No, professor,” answered the intruder, who knew of his peculiarities.
“That’s strange,” muttered the professor. “I was almost sure I heard
some one under the bed.”
* * * * *
Fond Mother--“Jane, has Johnny come home from school yet?”
Jane--“I think so. I haven’t seen him, but the cat is hiding under the
stove.”
* * * * *
Somebody told Mr. Jenks that red flannel worn next to the skin would
cure the rheumatism from which he suffered. So he purchased several
sets of red flannel undergarments. The clerk assured him that the firm
guaranteed the goods in every particular. About two months later, says
the New York “Times,” Mr. Jenks revisited the shop, sought out the
proprietor and told his woful story.
“The goods are the best in the house,” declared the proprietor. “Of
course,” he said, in a reasonable tone used on unreasonable persons,
“of course the shirts may have shrunk or faded a little--”
“Shrunk! Faded!” bellowed Mr. Jenks. “What do you think my wife said
to me, when I came down to breakfast yesterday with one of them on?”
The proprietor looked bored.
“Well, sir,” said the aggrieved Jenks, “she looked at me a minute, and
then said, ‘What is that little red line round your neck John? It
isn’t the baby’s string of coral beads, is it?’”
* * * * *
“Now, Tommy,” said Mrs. Bull, “I want you to be good while I’m out.”
“I’ll be good for a nickel,” replied Tommy.
“Tommy,” she said, “I want you to remember that you can not be a son
of mine unless you are good for nothing.”
* * * * *
Bill Jones is a country storekeeper down in Louisiana, and last spring
he went to New Orleans to purchase a stock of goods. The goods were
shipped immediately and reached home before he did. When the boxes of
goods were delivered at his store by the drayman his wife happened to
look at the largest; she uttered a loud cry and called for a hammer.
A neighbor, hearing the screams, rushed to her assistance and asked
what was the matter. The wife, pale and faint, pointed to an
inscription on the box which read as follows:
“Bill inside.”
* * * * *
Customer--“Are these five or six wedding rings all you have in stock?
Why, you’ve got a whole trayful of engagement rings.”
Jeweler--“Yes, sir, and it will take that whole trayful of engagement
rings to work off those five or six wedding rings.”
* * * * *
They were newly married and on a honeymoon trip. They put up at a
skyscraper hotel. The bridegroom felt indisposed, and the bride said
she would slip out and do a little shopping.
In due time she returned and tripped blithely up to her room, a little
awed by the number of doors that looked all alike. But she was sure of
her own and tapped gently on the panel.
“I’m back, honey; let me in,” she whispered.
No answer.
“Honey, honey, let me in!” she called again, rapping louder. Still no
answer.
“Honey, honey, it’s Mabel. Let me in.”
There was silence for several seconds; then a man’s voice, cold and
full of dignity, came from the other side of the door:
“Madame, this is not a beehive; it’s a bathroom.”
* * * * *
Leigh Hunt was asked by a lady at dessert if he would not venture on
an orange. “Madam,” he replied, “I should be happy to do so, but I am
afraid I should tumble off.”
* * * * *
Mrs. Prattle looked at her visitor with reproach in her wide blue
eyes. “Talk,” she said eagerly, “our baby talk? Well, I guess he can.
He’s three months younger than my cousin’s boy and he’s a year ahead
of him in language. You know often people tell you their children can
say things, and when you hear them you have to work hard with your
imagination to tell what they’re saying.
“Now, there’s my cousin’s baby--the one I spoke of. They declare that
child has a vocabulary of fifteen words, but, my dear, if you could
hear him. He says ‘bay’ for bread, and ‘flis’ for fish, and ‘cang’ for
candle, and ‘hort’ for horse, and ‘apa’ for father. Now I’ll try
Harold with those very words, and you’ll see the difference.
“Say bread, Harold--bread--bre-e-ad.”
“Wed,” said the baby.
“Now say fish, fi-sh.”
“Whish,” said the baby.
“And now horse,” said Harold’s mother. “Horse--ho-orse, ho-r-se.”
“Woss,” said the baby.
“And now will precious say father, fa-ather, fa-a-ar-ther?”
“Wahwah,” said the baby.
“There, you see!” cried Mrs. Prattle in triumph. “He seems to catch
the sound of every word. Now say good-by, darling, and then nurse
will take you upstairs. Good-by--goo-ood-by-y-y.”
“Wy wy,” said the baby.
* * * * *
The superintendent of a Sunday-school class in Philadelphia recently
called upon a visitor to “say a few words” to the class, the members
of which are mostly children of tender age.
The visitor, a speaker well known for his verbose and circumlocutory
mode of speech, began his address as follows:
“This morning, children, I purpose to offer you an epitome of the life
of St. Paul. It may be perhaps that there are among you some too young
to grasp the meaning of the word ‘epitome.’
“‘Epitome,’ children, is in its signification synonymous with
synopsis.”
* * * * *
A milliner endeavored to sell to a colored woman one of the last
season’s hats at a very moderate price. It was a big white
picture-hat.
“Law, no, honey!” exclaimed the woman. “I could nevah wear that. I’d
look jes’ like a blueberry in a pan of milk.”
* * * * *
A few years ago the celebrated Potter family, of which Bishop Potter
was a member, held a reunion the chief feature of which was a banquet.
During the banquet the various heads of the different families of
Potters arose and gave a short account of the pedigrees and deeds of
their ancestors and each head seemed to be able to demonstrate that
their branch was the oldest and most renowned. After all the speakers
had finished, Honorable William M. Evarts, who was present as the
legal adviser of the New York branch, was called upon for a speech and
responded by saying that he felt there was little left for him to say,
but after listening to the ancestry and history of the family he felt
he could cast his eyes toward heaven and say, “Oh, Lord! thou art the
clay and we are the Potters.”
* * * * *
A Massachusetts minister was making his first visit to Kentucky
several years ago. He had to spend the night in a small mountain town
where feuds and moonshine still abounded. Engaging in conversation
with one of the natives, he said:
“My friend, this is a very bibulous State, I hear.”
“Lord!” replied the man, “there hain’t twenty-five Bibles in all
Kentucky.”
* * * * *
An elderly gentleman opposed to the use of tobacco approached a young
man who stood on a street corner smoking a cigar, and asked him
severely, “How many cigars a day do you smoke?” “Three,” was the
reply. “How much do you pay for them?” he went on. “Fifteen cents
each,” replied the young man patiently. “Do you realize,” went on his
inquisitor, “that if you would save that money, by the time you are as
old as I am you would own that big building on the corner?” “Do _you_
own it?” inquired the smoker. “No,” was the response. “Well, I do,”
said the young man.
* * * * *
EVERYBODY’S FRIEND IN NOVA SCOTIA
J. R. FULLER,
Dealer in
Soft and Hard Coal, Ice Cream,
Wood, Lime, Cement, Perfumery, Nails,
Putty, Spectacles, and Horse Radish.
Chocolate Caramels and Tar Roofing,
Gas-Fitting and Undertaking in all
its Branches.
Hides, Tallow, and Maple Sirup, Fine Gold
Jewelry, Silverware, and Salt, Glue,
Codfish, and Gents’ Neckwear.
Undertaker and Confectioner.
Diseases of Horses and Children a
Specialty.
Five Islands, N. S.
* * * * *
A Lady going out for the day locked everything up carefully, and for
the grocer’s benefit left a card on the back door.
“All out. Don’t leave anything,” it read.
On her return she found her house ransacked and all her choicest
possessions gone. To the card on the door was added, “Thanks. We
haven’t left much.”
* * * * *
“Edward Everett Hale,” said a lawyer, “was one of the guests at a
millionaire’s dinner.
“The millionaire was a free spender, but he wanted full credit for
every dollar put out.
“And as the dinner progressed, he told his guests what the more
expensive dishes had cost.
“‘This terrapin,’ he would say, ‘was shipped direct from Baltimore. A
Baltimore cook came on to prepare it. The dish actually cost one
dollar a teaspoonful.’
“So he talked of the fresh peas, the hot-house asparagus, the Covent
Garden peaches, and the other courses. He dwelt especially on the
expense of the large and beautiful grapes, each bunch a foot long,
each grape bigger than a plum. He told down to a penny what he had
figured it out that the grapes had cost him apiece.
“The guests looked annoyed. They ate the expensive grapes charily. But
Dr. Hale, smiling, extended his plate and said:
“‘Would you mind cutting me off about $1.87 worth more, please?’”
* * * * *
Joe Jefferson had but one person with him who did not reverence the
man and the name.
This individual, one Bagley by name, was the property man and annoyed
the great comedian with undue familiarity. He had called Mr. Jefferson
“Joey” during his entire thirty years’ service.
Just previous to an auspicious opening in one of the big cities, Mr.
Jefferson discharged Bagley for humiliating him before a number of
friends. Bagley got drunk right away, and that night paid his way to
the gallery to see Mr. Jefferson present “Rip Van Winkle.” The angry
Frau has just driven poor, destitute Rip from the cottage when Rip
turns and, with a world of pathos, asks: “Den haf I no interest in
dis house?” The house is deathly still, the audience half in tears,
when Bagley’s cracked voice responds: “Only eighty per cent,
Joey--only eighty per cent.”
* * * * *
Dean Hole, the noted English clergyman who died recently, was the
leading figure in many humorous stories. On one occasion he was
crossing the Channel after a visit to the Continent, the voyage being
very stormy.
The Dean was a bad sailor and had suffered a great deal on the trip.
At Dover he was looking over the railway company’s rules on the
station wall as a passenger came up. Said the Dean: “After that stormy
voyage we have at least one advantage in making the subsequent trip to
London. I see the company carries returning empties at reduced rates.”
* * * * *
Gilbert Stuart, though a celebrated artist, was likewise a great
braggart. On one occasion a great public dinner was given to Isaac
Hull by the town of Boston, and he was asked to sit for his picture to
the artist.
When Hull visited the studio Stuart took great delight in entertaining
him with anecdotes of his English success, stories of the marquis of
this and the baroness of that, which showed how elegant was the
society to which he had been accustomed.
Unfortunately, in the midst of this grandeur, Mrs. Stuart, who did not
know that there was a sitter, came in with apron on and her head tied
up with some handkerchiefs, from the kitchen, and cried out: “Do you
mean to have that leg of mutton boiled or roasted?” to which Stuart
replied, with great presence of mind, “Ask your mistress.”
* * * * *
This story is related of an old-time Judge in Sullivan County, N. Y.:
During a session of court there was so much talking and laughter going
on that the Judge, becoming angry and confused, shouted in great
wrath:
“Silence, here! We have decided half a dozen cases this morning, and I
have not heard a word of one of them.”
* * * * *
Irving Bacheller, the author of “Eben Holden,” went a little farther
north than usual one summer while on his vacation, and penetrated
Newfoundland. He caught a good many fish, but this did not prevent his
keeping an eye on the natives. He was particularly impressed by the
men who spent the day lounging about the village stores.
“What do you fellows do when you sit around the store like this?” he
asked of the crowd arranged in a circle of tilted chairs and empty
boxes and maintaining a profound silence.
“Well,” drawled one of the oldest, “sometimes we set and think, and
then again other times we jest set.”
* * * * *
Not long before his death Thomas B. Reed visited some friends at their
summer residence at Watch Hill, R. I. Late in the afternoon he was
driven up to Westerly to take the 7 o’clock train for Boston. It was
a warm evening, the horses lagged and he missed the train, the last
Boston-bound train stopping at Westerly that night.
As Mr. Reed had an important engagement in Boston early the next day,
he seemed worried until he learned that there was a Boston express
which passed Westerly at 9 o’clock. Then he smiled.
Going to the telegraph office, he directed a telegram to the
superintendent of the road in Boston, and sent the following message:
“Will you stop the 9 o’clock express at Westerly to-night for a large
party for Boston.”
The answer came: “Yes. Will stop train.”
Mr. Reed read the message, and smiled. When the train pulled in Mr.
Reed quietly started to board it, when the conductor said: “Where is
that large party we were to stop for?”
“I am the large party,” replied Mr. Reed, and he boarded the train.
* * * * *
Wilfred was sitting upon his father’s knee watching his mother
arranging her hair.
“Papa hasn’t any Marcel waves like that,” said the father, laughingly.
Wilfred, looking up at his father’s bald pate, replied, “Nope; no
waves; it’s all beach.”
* * * * *
The Prince of Wales is fond of telling a good story to his friends in
connection with his visit to Ottawa some few years ago. The
Prince--then Duke of York--stole away for a quiet bicycle spin early
one morning, and in his ramblings met a farmer, heading marketward,
his wagon temporarily stalled by the loss of a nut belonging to the
whiffletree bolt. His Royal Highness, with his usual democratic
kindness, assisted him in putting things right. On parting, the farmer
expressed his rough thanks and asked if he might know the name of the
person to whom he was indebted. The royal cyclist replied modestly: “I
am the Duke of York. And may I ask whom I have the pleasure of
addressing?” A broad, amused smile beamed from the farmer’s face as he
said: “Me! Me! Why, I’m your uncle, the Czar of Russia!”
* * * * *
“All right on behind there?” called the conductor from the front of
the car.
“Hold on,” cried a shrill voice. “Wait till I get my clothes on!”
The passengers craned their necks expectantly. A small boy was
struggling to get a basket of laundry aboard.
* * * * *
One of the jokes of which Kentuckians never grow weary concerns
Senator Blackburn and his loyal appreciation of the liquid products of
his native State. The Senator had gone to pay a visit to a friend of
his who lived many miles distant. His friend met the Senator as he
alighted at the station.
“How are you Joe?” his friend asked.
“I’m up against it,” was the reply. “I lost the best part of my
baggage en route.”
“Did you misplace it, or was it stolen?” his friend inquired
solicitously.
“Neither,” said the Senator. “The cork came out.”
* * * * *
Kentucky Tailor--“What size shall I make your hip pockets, Colonel,
pint or quart?”
* * * * *
Once, during his second term, Grover Cleveland was asked to speak at a
function in a certain town, and when he arrived at the depot the wind
was blowing a gale, sleet was driving, and hailstones nearly as large
as marbles were fiercely falling. Of course, the inevitable brass band
was there, and at the sight of the President the performers struck up
with all the strenuosity at their command.
“That is the most realistic music I ever heard,” remarked Cleveland.
“What are they trying to play?” asked Secretary Olney, who accompanied
him.
“‘Hail to the Chief’!” replied the President, with a cheerful smile.
* * * * *
The chaplain of one of his Majesty’s ships was giving a magic-lantern
lecture, the subject of which was “Scenes from the Bible.” He arranged
with a sailor who possessed a gramophone to discourse appropriate
music between the slides. The first picture shown was Adam and Eve in
the Garden of Eden. The sailor cudgeled his brain but could think of
nothing suitable. “Play up,” whispered the chaplain. Suddenly a large
idea struck the jolly tar and to the great consternation of the
chaplain and the delight of the audience the gramophone burst forth
with the strains of “There’s only one girl in the world for me.”
* * * * *
The craze for giving and accepting coupons for purchases of
merchandise, to be redeemed by prizes, was given a more or less
merited rebuke by Nat C. Goodwin. He bought a bill of goods, and the
salesman offered him the coupons that the amount of the purchase
called for. Mr. Goodwin shook his head. “I don’t want ’em,” he said.
“You had better take them, sir,” persisted the clerk; “we redeem them
with very handsome prizes. If you can save up a thousand coupons we
give a grand piano.”
“Say, look here,” replied Mr. Goodwin, “if I ever drank enough of your
whisky or smoked enough of your cigars to get a thousand of those
coupons I wouldn’t want a piano. I’d want a harp.”
* * * * *
He--“You’ve got to have a pull to get ahead.”
She--“Yes, and you’ve got to have a head to get a pull.”
* * * * *
A Southern lawyer tells of a case that came to him at the outset of
his career, wherein his principal witness was a darky named Jackson,
supposed to have knowledge of certain transactions not at all to the
credit of his employer, the defendant.
“Now, Jackson,” said the lawyer, “I want you to understand the
importance of telling the truth when you are put on the stand. You
know what will happen, don’t you, if you don’t tell the truth?”
“Yassir,” was Jackson’s reply; “in dat case I expects our side will
win de case.”
* * * * *
The Suitor--“They say that Love is blind.”
The Heiress--“But nowadays he has a marvelous sense of touch.”
* * * * *
A small boy who had recently passed his fifth birthday was riding in a
suburban car with his mother, when they were asked the customary
question, “How old is the boy?” After being told the correct age,
which did not require a fare, the conductor passed on to the next
person.
The boy sat quite still as if pondering over some question, and then,
concluding that full information had not been given, called loudly to
the conductor, then at the other end of the car: “And mother’s
thirty-one!”
* * * * *
One of the uptown banks, on a conspicuous corner, gained a bad name
with the daily crowd of New York pedestrians. Its financial standing
was of course beyond question, but its clock ran on a very eccentric
and confusing system. The timepiece stood in a spot easily observable
and was consulted for years in spite of its tendency to wander from
strict accuracy. A woman excusing her lateness for luncheon said she
thought she was on time by the clock in the bank.
“Oh, nobody can go by that,” said her companion contemptuously. “We
call that the bank where the wild time grows.”
* * * * *
In a certain home where the stork recently visited there is a
six-year-old son of inquiring mind. When he was first taken in to see
the new arrival he exclaimed: “Oh, mamma, it hasn’t any teeth! And no
hair!” Then, clasping his hands in despair, he cried: “Somebody has
done us! It’s an old baby.”
* * * * *
A prominent railroad man hurried down the lobby of a Binghamton hotel
and up to the desk. He had just ten minutes in which to pay his bill
and reach the station. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had
forgotten something.
“Here, boy,” he called to a negro bellboy, “run up to 48 and see if I
left a box on the bureau. And be quick about it, will you?”
The boy rushed up the stairs. The ten minutes dwindled to seven and
the railroad man paced the office. At length the boy appeared.
“Yas, suh,” he panted breathlessly. “Yas, suh, yo’ left it, suh!”
* * * * *
A Boston minister tells of a little girl friend of his who, one day,
proudly displayed for his admiration a candy cat.
“Are you going to eat it?” the minister asked.
“No, sir; it’s too pretty to eat. I’m going to keep it,” the little
girl replied, as she stroked it with a moist little hand.
Several days later the minister saw her again, and inquired about the
cat.
A regretful look came into her eyes.
“It’s gone,” she sighed. “You see, I saved it and saved it, till it
got so dirty that I just _had_ to eat it.”
* * * * *
“Only fools are certain, Tommy; wise men hesitate.”
“Are you sure, uncle?”
“Yes, my boy; certain of it.”
* * * * *
“My rubber,” said Nat Goodwin, describing a Turkish bath that he once
had in Mexico, “was a very strong man. He laid me on a slab and
kneaded me and punched me and banged me in a most emphatic way. When
it was over and I had gotten up, he came up behind me before my sheet
was adjusted, and gave me three resounding slaps on the bare back with
the palm of his enormous hand.
“‘What in blazes are you doing?’ I gasped, staggering.
“‘No offense, sir,’ said the man. ‘It was only to let the office know
that I was ready for the next bather. You see, sir, the bell’s out of
order in this room.’”
* * * * *
“I want to know,” said the irate matron, “how much money my husband
drew out of this bank last week.” “I can’t give you that information,
ma’am,” answered the man in the cage. “You’re the paying teller,
aren’t you?” “Yes, but I’m not the telling payer.”
* * * * *
A lady once showed her little girl a beautiful new silk dress which
had just arrived from the dressmaker, and by way of improving the
occasion she said: “You know, dear, all this was given us by a poor
worm.” The little girl looked puzzled for a minute or two and then
said: “Do you mean dad, mama?”
* * * * *
When Blaine was a young lawyer, and cases were few, he was asked to
defend a poverty-stricken tramp accused of stealing a watch. He
pleaded with all the ardor at his command, drawing so pathetic a
picture with such convincing energy that at the close of his argument
the court was in tears and even the tramp wept. The jury deliberated
but a few minutes and returned the verdict “not guilty.” Then the
tramp drew himself up, tears streaming down his face as he looked at
the future “Plumed Knight,” and said: “Sir, I have never heard so
grand a plea, I have not cried before since I was a child. I have no
money with which to reward you, but (drawing a package from the depths
of his ragged clothes), here’s that watch; take it and welcome.”
* * * * *
The other day an ingenious-looking person called with the message to
the housewife that her husband had sent him for his dress suit, which
was to be pressed and redone by the tailor.
“Dear me,” said the housewife, “he said nothing to me about it. Did he
look quite well?”
“Yes, mum; he wuz in good health and spirits.”
“And he seemed quite as if he knew what he was about?”
“He did that, mum.”
“And did he look as if he were quite content with things about him?”
“He was all that, mum.”
“Well,” said the lady, “it seems strange that he should only think of
that dress suit now, because it’s ten years since he’s dead and
buried, and I’ve often wondered how he’s been getting on.”
* * * * *
Two friends were walking down Bond Street, London. A man came up and
saluted the elder: “How do you do, Lord ----?”
“Ah! how-do? Glad to see you. How’s the old complaint?”
The stranger’s face clouded over and he shook his head. “No better.”
“Dear me; so sorry. Glad to have met you. Good-by.”
“Who’s your friend?” asked the other, when the stranger was gone.
“No idea.”
“Why, you asked him about his old complaint!”
“Pooh, pooh!” replied the nobleman, unconcernedly. “The old fellow’s
well over sixty; bound to have something the matter with him.”
* * * * *
“Did you tip the waiter?”
“Yes, so to speak. I turned him down.”
* * * * *
Dr. Jowett of Oxford was a formidable wit. At a gathering at which he
was present the talk ran upon the comparative gifts of two Balliol men
who had been made respectively a judge and a bishop. Prof. Henry
Smith, famous in his day for his brilliancy, pronounced the bishop to
be the greater man of the two for this reason: “A judge, at the most,
can only say, ‘You be hanged,’ whereas a bishop can say, ‘You be
damned!’”
“Yes,” said Dr. Jowett, but if the judge says, “‘You be hanged,’ you
_are_ hanged.”
* * * * *
“I’m so glad you’ve come. We’re going to have a young married couple
for dinner.”
“I’m glad too. They ought to be tender.”
* * * * *