the Congregational Church last Sunday, and the church will now be
closed three weeks for repairs.”
* * * * *
A Certain Ohio lady with a large sense of religious duty was recently
importuned by a tramp. The good religionist, after considerable
hesitation, produced a piece of dry bread which she delivered with the
following formula, evidently prepared for such occasion:
“Now, sir, not for your sake, nor for my sake, but for God’s sake, I
give you this bread.”
The tramp accepted the offering and had got as far as the gate when he
suddenly turned and came back where his benefactress was waiting to
see him safely out.
“Say, miss,” he drawled, “not for your sake, nor for my sake, but for
God’s sake put some butter on it.”
* * * * *
“Mother, mother, mother, turn the hose on me!” sang little Willie, as
his mama was dressing him one morning.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You’ve put my stockin’s on wrong side out,” he said.
* * * * *
The will of Stephen Girard provided that no clergyman should ever be
allowed to enter the splendid Girard College at Philadelphia.
One day a very clerical looking man, with immaculate white cravat and
choker, approached the entrance.
“You can’t come in here,” said the janitor.
“The ---- I can’t!” said the stranger.
“Oh,” said the janitor, “excuse me. Step right in.”
It is said that the visitor was the late State Senator Sessions, of
Western New York.
* * * * *
The following anecdote of ex-President Roosevelt’s youth is told:
When Roosevelt was a student at Harvard he was required to recite a
poem in public declamation. He got as far as a line which read:
“When Greece her knees in suppliance bent,” when he stuck there.
Again he tried:
“When Greece her knees...,” but could get no farther.
The teacher waited patiently, finally remarking:
“Grease her knees again, Roosevelt, then perhaps she’ll go.”
* * * * *
A Young graduate in law, who had had some experience in New York City,
wrote to a prominent practitioner in Arkansas to inquire what chance
there was in that section for such a one as he described himself to
be. He said: “I am a Republican in politics, and an honest young
lawyer.” The reply that came seemed encouraging in its interest: “If
you are a Republican the game laws here will protect you, and if you
are an honest lawyer you will have no competition.”
* * * * *
Brown--“Ah! they’ve just dropped the anchor.”
Mrs. B.--“And served ’em right! It’s been dangling outside all the
morning!”
* * * * *
As the immaculate young woman and the tired but happy-looking young
man entered the Pullman, followed by a grinning porter, the other
passengers became “wise” in a moment. The stout drummer leaned over to
the man behind him and remarked:
“Bride and groom--100 to 1.”
Every one turned to view the newcomers, who had deposited themselves
vis-à-vis in No. 4. As if unconscious of any scrutiny, the young man
said, in a high, nasal voice:
“Well, do as you like about it; either increase the margin or let it
go. You didn’t follow my advice in the first place, but if you want to
pull out, you’d better do it now.”
“Oh, I know,” the woman replied. “What’s the use of going all over it
again?”
“Huh!” said the stout man’s companion. “Guess you lose. Been playing
the market. Not much bride and groom talk in that.”
The rest of the passengers sniffed and then turned their backs on the
new couple. Whereat the young man smiled at the young woman, and they
softly joined hands as he whispered:
“Millicent, dear, my shoes are full of rice.”
* * * * *
A Short time ago an old lady went on board Nelson’s flag-ship, the
_Victory_. The different objects of interest were duly shown her, and
on reaching the spot where the great naval hero was wounded (which is
marked by a raised brass plate), the officer remarked: “Here Nelson
fell.” “And no wonder!” exclaimed the old lady; “I nearly fell there
myself.”
* * * * *
A Good Samaritan, passing an apartment-house in the small hours of the
morning, noticed a man leaning limply against the doorway.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Drunk?”
“Yep.”
“Do you live in this house?”
“Yep.”
“Do you want me to help you upstairs?”
“Yep.”
With much difficulty he half dragged, half carried the drooping figure
up the stairway to the second floor.
“What floor do you live on?” he asked. “Is this it?”
“Yep.”
Rather than face an irate wife who might, perhaps, take him for a
companion more at fault than her spouse, he opened the first door he
came to and pushed the limp figure in.
The good Samaritan groped his way downstairs again. As he was passing
through the vestibule he was able to make out the dim outlines of
another man, apparently in worse condition than the first one.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Are you drunk, too?”
“Yep,” was the feeble reply.
“Do you live in this house, too?”
“Yep.”
“Shall I help you upstairs?”
“Yep.”
Stopping on the second floor, where this man also said he lived, he
opened the door and pushed him in. As he again reached the front door
he discerned the shadow of a third man, evidently worse off than
either of the other two. He was about to approach him when the object
of his solicitude lurched out into the street and threw himself into
the arms of a passing policeman. “For Heaven’s sake, off’cer,” he
gasped, “protect me from that man. He’s done nothin’ all night long
but carry me upstairs ’n’ throw me down th’ elevator shaf’.”
* * * * *
Husband comes in to find his wife turning everything topsy-turvy.
“Good gracious! Isabel, what are you doing?”
“I just received a telegram from Aunt Jane saying she’ll be here at
6.30 and I can’t find her photograph anywhere.”
* * * * *
At the school at which the writer was educated there was a certain
assistant master who invariably “put his foot in it” when he got the
chance. On one occasion, being exasperated by the conduct of a boy, he
turned to him and said, “Look here, X., I’ll take care that you won’t
be the biggest fool in the class as long as I’m here.”
* * * * *
Mrs. Barron was one of the new “summer folk,” and not acquainted with
the vernacular. Consequently, she was somewhat surprised, upon sending
an order for a roast of lamb to the nearest butcher, to receive the
following note in reply: “Dear Mam. I am sorry I have not killed
myself this week, but I can get you a leg off my brother (the butcher
at the farther end of the town). He’s full up of what you want. I seen
him last night with five legs. Yours respectful. George Gunton.”
* * * * *
An artist employed in repairing the properties of an old church in
Belgium, being refused payment in a lump sum, was asked for details,
and sent in his bill as follows:-
1. Corrected the Ten Commandments, £1 10 0
2. Embellished Pontius Pilate and put a ribbon in
his bonnet, 0 8 1
3. Put a New Tail on the Rooster of St. Peter
and mended his Comb, 0 12 0
4. Re-plumed and Gilded the Left Wing of the
Guardian Angel, 0 15 6
5. Washed the Servant of the High Priest and
put carmine on his cheek, 0 1 0
6. Renewed Heaven, adjusted two Stars, and
cleaned the Moon, 1 16 0
7. Re-animated the Flames of Purgatory and restored
Souls, 6 7 0
8. Revived the Flames of Hell, put a New Tail
on the Devil, mended his left hoof, and did
several jobs for the damned, 1 16 6
9. Re-bordering the Robe of Herod and re-adjusting
his Wig, 0 17 3
10. Put new Spotted Dashes on the Son of Tobias
and dressing on his sack 0 7 6
11. Cleaned the Ears of Balaam’s Ass and shod
him, 0 9 0
12. Put Earrings in the Ears of Sarah, 0 9 2
13. Put a New Stone in David’s Sling, enlarged
the Head of Goliath, and extended his Legs, 0 8 8
14. Decorated Noah’s Ark, 0 17 6
15. Mended the Shirt of the Prodigal Son and
cleaned his ears, 0 15 3
--_P. Sylvester, Summerfield, Warham_ --------
_Road, Croydon._ £17 10 5
* * * * *
Shortly after two o’clock one bitter winter morning a physician drove
four miles in answer to a telephone call. On his arrival the man who
had summoned him said:
“Doctor, I ain’t in any particular pain, but somehow or other I’ve got
a feeling that death is nigh.”
The doctor felt the man’s pulse and listened to his heart.
“Have you made your will?”
The man turned pale.
“Why, no, doctor, at my age--oh, Doc, it ain’t true is it? It can’t be
true!”
“Who’s your lawyer?”
“Higginbotham.”
“Well, you’d better send for him at once.”
The patient, white and trembling, went to the ’phone.
“Who’s your pastor?” continued the doctor.
“The Rev. Kellogg M. Brown,” mumbled the patient. “But, doctor, do you
think--”
“Send for him immediately. Your father, too, should be summoned; also
your--”
“Say, doctor, do you really think I’m going to die?” The man began to
blubber softly.
The doctor looked at him hard.
“No, I don’t,” he replied grimly. “There’s nothing at all the matter
with you. But I’d hate to be the only man you’ve made a fool of on a
night like this.”
* * * * *
Dr. L. E. Wilson, a wealthy young Baltimore physician, was awakened
one stormy night by a man who declared the doctor’s services were
wanted three miles out in the country. Just before the doctor called
up the stable for his horse, the visitor asked what the charge would
be. “Three dollars,” was the reply. When the house containing the
supposed patient was reached, the man alighted first, and, handing the
doctor three dollars, remarked: “That will be all, doctor. I couldn’t
find a hackman who would do it for less than six dollars.”
* * * * *
A certain prosy preacher recently gave an endless discourse on the
prophets. First he dwelt at length on the minor prophets. At last he
finished them, and the congregation gave a sigh of relief. He took a
long breath and continued: “Now I shall proceed to the major
prophets.”
After the major prophets had received more than ample attention the
congregation gave another sigh of relief.
“Now that I have finished with the minor prophets and the major
prophets, what about Jeremiah? Where is Jeremiah’s place?”
At this point a tall man arose in the back of the church. “Jeremiah
can have my place,” he said; “I’m going home.”
* * * * *
Any one who has traveled on the New York subway in rush hours can
easily appreciate the following:
A little man, wedged into the middle of a car, suddenly thought of
pickpockets, and quite as suddenly remembered that he had some money
in his overcoat. He plunged his hand into his pocket and was somewhat
shocked upon encountering the fist of a fat fellow-passenger.
“Aha” snorted the latter. “I caught you that time!”
“Leggo!” snarled the little man. “Leggo my hand!”
“Pickpocket!” hissed the fat man.
“Scoundrel!” retorted the little one.
Just then a tall man in their vicinity glanced up from his paper.
“I’d like to get off here,” he drawled, “if you fellows don’t mind
taking your hands out of my pocket.”
* * * * *
Aunt Mahaly, an old negress with a worthless husband, was relating her
troubles to her minister. The usual condolences were offered by the
latter and remedies suggested, but at each one Aunt Mahaly shook a
doubting head--she had tried them all without avail.
The minister sighed and pondered, and at last had an inspiration. He
leaned to Aunt Mahaly, who brightened visibly.
“Sis’ Mahaly,” he said, “hab you eber tried heapin’ coals er fire on
his haid?”
The gleam of hope faded from Aunt Mahaly’s face.
“No, Bre’r Jackson, I ain’t never done dat, but I’s tried po’in’ hot
water ovuh him.”
* * * * *
A barber in South Bend, having been out late the night before, had a
shaky hand the next morning and cut a patron’s cheek four times. After
each accident the barber said, as he sponged away the blood: “Oh, dear
me, how careless!”
The patron took all these gashes in grave silence. But when the shave
was over he filled a glass at the water-cooler, took a mouthful of
water, and, with compressed lips, proceeded to shake his head from
side to side.
“What is the matter?” the barber asked. “You ain’t got the toothache,
have you?”
“No,” said the customer; “I only wanted to see if my mouth would still
hold water without leaking.”
* * * * *
At one of the lectures by Professor George Kirchwey, dean of Columbia
Law College, New York, the students were uneasy. There was something
wrong in the air. Books were dropped, chairs were pushed along the
floor. There were various interruptions. The nerves of all were on
edge. The members of the class kept their eyes on the clock and
awaited the conclusion of the hour of the lecture. The clock beat
Professor Kirchwey by perhaps a minute, but at the expiration of the
schedule time the students started to their feet and prepared to
leave. “Wait a minute,” objected Professor Kirchwey; “don’t go just
yet. I have a few more pearls to cast.”
* * * * *
Mrs. Flint _always_ demanded instant and unquestioning obedience from
her children. One afternoon a storm came up and she sent her son John
to close the trapdoor leading to the roof.
“But mother--” said John.
“John, I told you to shut the trapdoor.”
“Yes, but, Mother--”
“John, shut that trapdoor.”
“All right, Mother, if you say so, but--”
“John!”
John slowly climbed the stairs and shut the trapdoor. The storm howled
and raged. Two hours later the family gathered for tea. When the meal
was half over Aunt Mary had not appeared, and Mrs. Flint started an
investigation. She did not have to ask many questions; John answered
the first one:
“Please, Mother, she is up on the roof.”
* * * * *
An absent-minded scientist, in the employ of the government at
Washington, recently met his physician in the street.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me, Doctor,” said the man of
science. “I am limping badly to-day. Do you think it’s locomotor
ataxia?”
“Scarcely that,” replied the physician. “You are walking with one foot
on the curb and the other in the gutter.”
* * * * *
One Sunday John Wanamaker visited the Sunday-school classes in which
he was greatly interested, and after talking the lesson over told the
pupils he would try to answer any questions the boys or girls wanted
to ask him.
One little girl raised her hand, and spoke out timidly: “Will you
please tell me, Mr. Wanamaker, how much those large French dolls are
that you have in your show-window?”
* * * * *
Judge--“Have you been arrested before?”
Prisoner--“No, sir.”
Judge--“Have you been in this court before?”
Prisoner--“No, sir.”
Judge--“Are you certain?”
Prisoner--“I am, sir.”
Judge--“But your face looks decidedly familiar. Where have I seen it
before?”
Prisoner--“I’m the bartender in the saloon across the way, sir.”
* * * * *
Henry Guy Carleton, wit, journalist, and playwright, has an impediment
in his speech about which he is not in the least sensitive. Meeting
Nat Goodwin one day he asked:
“G-g-goodwin, c-c-an you g-g-give m-m-me f-f-fifteen m-m-minutes?”
“Certainly,” replied the comedian, “what is it?”
“I w-w-want to have f-f-five m-m-minutes’ c-c-conversation with you.”
* * * * *
A German pedler rapped timidly at the kitchen entrance. Mrs. Kelly,
angry at being interrupted in her washing, flung open the door and
glowered at him.
“Did yez wish to see me?” she demanded in threatening tones.
The pedler backed off a few steps.
“Vell, if I did,” he assured her with an apologetic grin, “I got my
vish, thank you.”
* * * * *
A lady from South America possessed of a decidedly quick temper came
to New York with a very incomplete knowledge of the English language.
At her hotel she rang for the chambermaid. But a waiter came instead.
Having ascertained that the name of the chambermaid was Susan, the
lady marshaled her meager knowledge of English in a desperate effort
to make the waiter understand that he should call the chambermaid.
What she said to him, however, was:
“Call me Susan!”
The waiter leaned against the wall much alarmed.
“Call me Susan!” shouted the South American.
The waiter became appalled.
“Call me Susan!” roared the lady, her eyes flashing furiously.
“Susan, then--if you will have it!” exclaimed the poor waiter. Then he
fled precipitately.
* * * * *
“Please, mum,” began the aged hero in appealing tones, as he stood at
the kitchen-door on washday, “I’ve lost my leg--”
“Well, I ain’t got it,” snapped the woman, slamming the door.
* * * * *
In the absence of the regularly appointed spokesman, Mr. Makinbrakes
had reluctantly consented to make a presentation speech.
“Miss Higham,” he said, “unfortunately it is my--er--fortunate lot to
fulfill the embarrassing--the pleasant duty of--of inflicting a few
remarks upon this occasion--which is highly appreciated, I assure you,
and by none more so than myself, for the reason that--in short, as I
may say, it falls to my lot to convey, so to speak, the assurances
of--that is, with the assurances of those to whom--to whom I have
occasion to refer to--more or less--in this connection, together with
the best wishes, if I may so express myself, of those who have clubbed
together--who have associated themselves--not that you need anything
of the kind, of course, but as a token of--as a token of--of--with
which few remarks, Miss Higham, it is my--my pleasant surprise to hand
you this gold watch and chain. I--I thank you.”
* * * * *
The reputed affinity between the Southern negro and unguarded poultry
is the subject of a story told by Senator Bacon, of Georgia. An old
colored man, notorious for his evil ways, after attending a revival
meeting, desired to lead a better life. At a later meeting he was
called up to be questioned.
“Well, Rastus,” said the revivalist, “I hope you are now trying to
live a Christian life in accordance with the rules of the Church. Have
you been stealing any chickens lately?”
“No, sah! I ain’t stole no chicken ob late.”
“Any turkeys or pigs?”
Rastus, grieved, replied: “No, sah!”
“I am very glad to hear that you have been doing better lately,”
replied the evangelist. “Continue to lead a holy and Christian life,
Rastus.”
After the meeting was over, Rastus drew a long breath of relief, and
turning to his wife exclaimed:
“Mandy, if he’d said ducks I’d been a lost nigger, suah!”
* * * * *
The late Moses Coit Tyler, so long Professor of History in Cornell,
was at one time a popular professor in the University of Michigan. One
raw February morning as he was calling the roll of an 8 o’clock class
in English, he called “Mr. Robbins,” and receiving no answer called
again: “Mr. Robbins?” Still no reply. “Ah,” said Professor Tyler,
looking around upon the class in his inimitable manner, “it is rather
early for robins.”
* * * * *
He--“Isn’t dinner ready yet?”
She--“No, dear. I got it according to the time you set the clock when
you came in last night, and dinner will be ready in four hours.”
* * * * *
A foreigner, meeting an American friend, said to him, “How are you?”
The latter replied, “Out of sight.”
The man considered this very clever, and decided to use the expression
on the next occasion. Shortly after he was met by a friend, who asked,
“How are you?” With visible pride he answered, “You don’t see me.”
* * * * *
There is a clerk in the employ of a Philadelphia business man who,
while a fair worker, is yet an individual of pronounced eccentricity.
One day a wire basket fell off the top of the clerk’s desk and
scratched his cheek. Not having any court plaster at hand, he slapped
on three two-cent postage stamps and continued his work.
A few minutes later he had occasion to take some papers to his
employer’s private office. When he entered, the “old man” observing
the postage stamps on his cheek fixed him with an astonished stare.
“Look here, Jenkins!” he exclaimed. “You are carrying too much postage
for second-class matter!”
* * * * *
“I suppose,” said the facetious stranger, watching a workman spread a
carpet from the church door to the curb, “that’s the high road to
heaven you’re fixing there?”
“No,” replied the man; “this is merely a bridal path.”
* * * * *
“I hope my little Tommy has taken to heart mama’s talk of last night
about charity and usefulness,” said a fond mother. “How many acts of
kindness has he done? How many hearts has my Tommy made grateful and
glad?”
Her Tommy replied:
“I’ve done a lot of good, ma; I gave your new hat to a beggar woman,
and I gave the cook’s shoes to a little girl in busted rubbers what I
seen on the street, and I gave a poor, lame shoe-string seller pa’s
black suit, the open front one that he hardly ever wears.”
* * * * *
Charles Francis Adams was escorting a literary friend about Boston.
They were viewing the different objects of attraction and finally came
to Bunker Hill. They stood looking at the splendid monument when
Adams remarked: “This is the place, sir, where Warren fell.”
“Ah!” replied the Englishman, evidently not very familiar with
American history. “Was he seriously hurt by his fall?”
Mr. Adams looked at his friend. “Hurt!” said he. “He was killed, sir.”
“Ah, indeed,” the Englishman replied, still eying the monument and
commencing to compute its height in his own mind. “Well, I should
think he might have been--falling so far.”
* * * * *
“Darling,” said his bride, “I had a terrible feeling of sadness come
over me this afternoon--a sort of feeling that you were doing
something that would break my heart if I knew of it. Think, sweet,
what were you doing this afternoon at four o’clock?”
“Dearest,” replied her husband, tenderly and reassuringly, “at that
hour I was licking stamps and pasting them on envelopes.”
* * * * *
A few years ago a dear old lady, who formerly lived in Ipswich, and
was a relative of the poet Whittier, had occasion to go on a journey
which necessitated a night’s ride in a sleeping car. Being subject to
attacks of acute indigestion, she took the precaution to place a few
leaves of the commercial mustard plaster in her hand bag.
During the night, pains, either real or imaginary, warned her of
trouble and prevented sleep. Deciding upon the application of a
plaster, she reached in the dark for the hand bag, and, having
secured it, proceeded to put one of the leaves where it would do the
most good, and immediately felt comforted and enjoyed a refreshing
sleep until morning.
Upon removing the plaster, what was her astonishment to find that it
was a $10 bank note that had brought such speedy relief.
* * * * *
Beerbohm Tree was once endeavoring to get a well-known actor back into
his company. He invited the man to call and received him in his
dressing room as he was making-up. “How much would you want to come
back to me?” inquired Mr. Tree, busy with his paint pots. The other
named an exorbitant salary to which Tree merely retorted as he went on
making up: “Don’t slam the door when you go out, will you?”
* * * * *
“Oh, mama,” she cried, rushing into her mother’s room, and flinging
her arms around her mother’s neck, “He loves me! He loves me!”
“My dear child, I’m so glad! Has he told you? Has he asked you to be
his wife?”
“No, but he’s down in the library learning to play chess with papa.”
* * * * *
“If I had only known that this pleasure was in store for me,” said the
doctor, as he shook hands cordially with his wife’s cousins, “I should
certainly have arranged my business so as to be home earlier.”
“Why, pa,” piped up little Tommy, “don’t you remember that ma told
you they were coming, and you said, ‘Oh, the devil!’”
* * * * *
A minister of a fashionable church had always left the greeting of
strangers to be attended to by the ushers until he read some newspaper
articles in reference to the matter.
“Suppose a representative should visit our church,” said his wife.
“Wouldn’t it be awful?”
“It would,” the minister admitted.
The following Sunday evening he noticed a plainly dressed woman in one
of the free pews. She sat alone and was clearly not a member of the
flock. After the benediction the minister hastened and intercepted her
at the door.
“How do you do?” he said, offering his hand. “I am very glad to have
you with us.”
“Thank you,” replied the young woman.
“I hope we may see you often in our church home,” he went on. “We are
always glad to welcome new faces.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you live in this parish?” he asked.
The girl looked blank.
“If you will give me your address my wife and I will call on you some
evening.”
“You wouldn’t need to go far, sir,” said the young woman. “I’m your
cook.”
* * * * *
The mission-workers on the East Side frequently see the humorous as
well as the sadder side of life. A man prominent in reform work in
New York City recounts the experience of a certain young woman, new to
the task, who set about posting herself as to conditions in a
neighborhood near Avenue A.