“How touching. Then tell him, ‘Pleasant dreams.’”
* * * * *
Representative Tawney, of Minnesota, chairman of the House Committee
on Appropriations, sent out some of his quota of garden seeds to his
constituents not long ago. One man in Winona wrote to Tawney: “Dear
Jim: I received your seeds, but I don’t care much for them. If you
really want to do something for me, please send me up a suit of union
underwear.”
* * * * *
In his younger days Thomas Bailey Aldrich was not a little of a dandy.
This foible led an unusually energetic Boston bluestocking to refer to
him in a caustic style on one occasion as “effeminate.”
When a friend told the poet of her remark he smiled grimly.
“So I am,” he assented, “compared with her.”
* * * * *
Tennyson’s customary manner toward women was one of grave and stately
courtesy. One evening at Aldworth, Sir Edward Hamley, the soldier and
expert writer on the art of war, who had been visiting through the
day, rose to take leave. Tennyson pressed him to stay over night,
adding: “There are three ladies who wish it,” meaning Mrs. Tennyson
and the two guests who were in the house.
“There are three other ladies who oppose it,” Sir Edward answered.
“Who are they?” Tennyson asked.
“The Fates,” Sir Edward replied.
“The Fates may be on one side,” Tennyson rejoined, “but the Graces are
on the other.”
* * * * *
Douglas Jerrold’s genius for repartee is perhaps best shown in his
most famous reply to Albert Smith, whom he disliked and frequently
abused. Smith grew tired of being made the butt of the other’s wit,
and one day plaintively remarked: “After all, Jerrold, we row in the
same boat.” “Yes,” came the answer, “but not with the same skulls.”
* * * * *
Mr. Brown, a Kansas gentleman, is the proprietor of a boarding-house.
Around his table at a recent dinner sat his wife, Mrs. Brown; the
village milliner, Mrs. Andrews; Mr. Black, the baker; Mr. Jordan, a
carpenter; and Mr. Hadley, a flour, feed, and lumber merchant. Mr.
Brown took a ten-dollar bill out of his pocketbook and handed it to
Mrs. Brown, with the remark that there was ten dollars toward the
twenty he had promised her. Mrs. Brown handed the bill to Mrs.
Andrews, the milliner, saying, “That pays for my new bonnet.” Mrs.
Andrews, in turn, passed it on to Mr. Jordan, remarking that it would
pay for the carpentry work he had done for her. Mr. Jordan handed it
to Mr. Hadley, requesting his receipted bill for flour, feed, and
lumber. Mr. Hadley gave the bill back to Mr. Brown, saying, “That pays
ten dollars on my board.” Mr. Brown again passed it to Mrs. Brown,
remarking that he had now paid her the twenty dollars he had promised
her. She, in turn, paid it to Mr. Black to settle her bread and pastry
account. Mr. Black handed it to Mr. Hadley, asking credit for the
amount on his flour bill, Mr. Hadley again returning it to Mr. Brown,
with the remark that it settled for that month’s board; whereupon
Brown put it back into his pocketbook, observing that he had not
supposed a greenback would go so far.
* * * * *
A doctor came up to a patient in an insane asylum, slapped him on the
back, and said: “Well, old man, you’re all right, you can run along
and write your folks that you’ll be back home in two weeks as good as
new.” The patient went off gaily to write his letter. He had it
finished and sealed, but when he was licking the stamp it slipped
through his fingers to the floor, lighted on the back of a cockroach
that was passing and stuck. The patient hadn’t seen the
cockroach--what he did see was his escaped postage stamp zig-zagging
aimlessly across the floor to the baseboard, wavering up over the
baseboard and following a crooked track up the wall and across the
ceiling. In depressed silence he tore up the letter and dropped the
pieces on the floor. “Two weeks! Hell!” he said. “I won’t be out of
here in three years.”
* * * * *
A Bostonian, arriving at the gate of Heaven, asked for admittance.
“Where are you from?” inquired the genial Saint.
“Boston.”
“Well, you can come in, but you won’t like it.”
* * * * *
A well-known bishop, after a long journey to conduct a service in a
distant village, was asked by the spokesman of the reception committee
if he would like a whisky and soda to keep out the cold. “No,” he
replied, “for three reasons. First, because I am chairman of the
Temperance Society; secondly, I am just going to enter a church;
and--thirdly, because--I have just had one.”
* * * * *
A frivolous young English girl, with no love for the Stars and
Stripes, once exclaimed at a celebration where the American flag was
very much in evidence: “Oh, what a silly-looking thing the American
flag is! It suggests nothing but checker-berry candy.”
“Yes,” replied a bystander, “the kind of candy that has made everybody
sick who ever tried to lick it.”
* * * * *
A hungry Irishman went into a restaurant on Friday and said to the
waiter:
“Have yez any whale?”
“No.”
“Have yez any shark?”
“No.”
“Have yez any swordfish?”
“No.”
“Have yez any jellyfish?”
“No.”
“All right,” said the Irishman. “Then bring me ham and eggs and a
beefsteak smothered wid onions. The Lord knows I asked for fish.”
* * * * *
Mr. Halloran returned from a political meeting with his interest
aroused. “There’s eight nations represented in this ward of ours,” he
said, as he began to count them off on his fingers. “There’s Irish,
Frinch, Eyetalians, Poles, Germans, Rooshians, Greeks, an’--” Mr.
Halloran stopped and began again: “There’s Irish, Frinch, Eyetalians,
Poles, Germans, Rooshians, Greeks, an‘--I can’t seem to remember the
other wan. There’s Irish, Frinch--” “Maybe ’twas Americans,” suggested
Mrs. Halloran. “Sure, that’s it, I couldn’t think.”
* * * * *
The solemnity of the meeting was somewhat disturbed when the eloquent
young theologian pictured in glowing words the selfishness of men who
spend their evenings at the club, leaving their wives in loneliness at
home at the holiday season. “Think, my hearers,” said he, “of a poor,
neglected wife, all alone in the great, dreary house, rocking the
cradle of her sleeping babe with one foot and wiping away her tears
with the other!”
* * * * *
Two charming girls with Mr. Danvers, who was very shy, were watching
the dancing waves. Conversation was carried on with difficulty.
Finally Maude ventured the remark:
“Don’t you hate the seaside, Mr. Danvers, with its glare and noise and
general vulgarity?”
Mr. Danvers replied fervently with a smile and downcast eyes: “Oh,
d-d-d-don’t I, that’s all!”
Then Miss Lilian followed up the subject and said: “What, hate the
seaside, Mr. Danvers?--with the fresh air and blue waves, and the
delightful lounge after bathing, and the lawn-tennis and the
Cinderella dances! I dote on it, and I should have thought you did,
too!”
Whereupon Mr. Danvers stammered still more fervently: “Oh--I-I-I
should think I did!”
And the waves kept on splashing merrily.
* * * * *
Just before the collection was taken up one Sunday morning a negro
clergyman announced that he regretted to state that a certain brother
had forgotten to lock the door of his chicken-house the night before,
and as a result in the morning he found that most of the fowls had
disappeared. “I doan’ want to be pussonal, bredr’n,” he added, “but I
hab my s’picions as to who stole dem chickens. I also hab reason fo’
b’lievin’ dat if I am right in dose s’picions dat pusson won’t put any
money in de plate which will now be passed around.”
The result was a fine collection; not a single member of the
congregation feigned sleep. After it was counted the old parson came
forward.
“Now, bredr’n,” he said, “I doan’ want your dinners to be spoilt by
wonderin’ where dat brudder lives who doan’ lock his chickens up at
night. Dat brudder doan’ exist, mah friends. He was a parable gotten
up fo’ purpose of finances.”
* * * * *
A minister in a Western town was called upon one afternoon to perform
the marriage ceremony between a negro couple--the negro preacher of
the town being absent from home.
After the ceremony the groom asked the price of the service.
“Oh, well,” said the minister, “you can pay me whatever you think it
is worth to you.”
The negro turned and silently looked his bride over from head to foot,
then slowly rolling up the whites of his eyes, said:
“Lawd, sah, you has done ruined me for life, you has, for shuah.”
* * * * *
A professor of sciences, well known for his absent-mindedness, was
engaged in a deep controversy one day with a fellow-student when his
wife hurriedly entered the room. “Oh, my dear,” she cried, “I’ve
swallowed a pin.”
The Professor smiled. “Don’t worry about it, my dear,” he said in a
soothing tone. “It is of no consequence. Here”--he fumbled at his
lapel--“Here is another pin.”
* * * * *
The late Theodore Thomas was rehearsing the Chicago Orchestra on the
stage of the Auditorium Theater. He was disturbed by the whistling of
Burridge, the well-known scene painter, who was at work in the loft
above the stage. A few minutes later Mr. Thomas’s librarian appeared
on the “bridge,” where Mr. Burridge, merrily whistling, was at work.
“Mr. Thomas’s compliments,” said the librarian, “and he requests me to
say that if Mr. Burridge wishes to whistle he will be glad to
discontinue his rehearsal.” To which Mr. Burridge replied suavely:
“Mr. Burridge’s compliments to Mr. Thomas; and please inform Mr.
Thomas that, if Mr. Burridge can not whistle with the orchestra, he
won’t whistle at all.”
* * * * *
When trouble was more general and more destructive in Ireland than at
present, an Irish priest, a very good man, was disturbed by the
inroads which strong drink was making on his flock. He preached a
strong sermon against it. “What is it,” he cried, “that keeps you
poor? It’s the drink. What is it keeps your children half-starved? The
drink. What is it keeps your children half-clothed? The drink! The
drink. What is it causes you to shoot at your landlords--and miss
them? The drink.”
* * * * *
Goff, the famous London barrister, has a humor peculiarly his own. He
looks at the world in a half-amused, half-indulgent manner sometimes
very annoying to his friends. One day, when in town, he dropped into a
restaurant for lunch. It was a tidy, although not a pretentious
establishment. After a good meal he called to the waitress and
inquired what kind of pie could be had.
“Apple pie mince pie raisin pie blueberry pie custard pie peach pie
and strawberry shortcake,” the young woman repeated glibly.
“Will you please say that again?” he asked, leaning a trifle forward.
The girl went through the list at lightning rate. “And strawberry
shortcake,” she concluded with emphasis.
“Would you mind doing it once more?” he said.
The waitress looked her disgust, and started in a third time
pronouncing the words in a defiantly clear tone.
“Thank you,” he remarked when she had finished. “For the life of me I
can not see how you do it. But I like to hear it. It’s very
interesting, very. Give me apple pie, please, and thank you very
much.”
* * * * *
An elderly Bishop, a bachelor, who was very fastidious about his
toilet, was especially fond of his bath, and requested particular care
of his tub from the maid.
When about to leave town one day he gave strict orders to the
housemaid about his “bawth-tub” and said that no one was to be allowed
the use of it.
Alas! the temptation grew on the girl and she took a plunge.
The Bishop returned unexpectedly, and finding traces of the recent
stolen bath, questioned the maid so closely that she had to confess
she was the culprit, and was very sorry.
“I hope you do not think it a sin, Bishop?” asked Mary in tears.
Eying her sternly, he said: “Mary your using my tub is not a sin, but
what distresses me most is that you would do anything behind my back
that you would not do before my face.”
* * * * *
Senator Dawes, in his young manhood, was a very poor speaker. One time
he was in an important law case, and for his opponent he had an older
attorney whose eloquence attracted a crowd that packed the courtroom.
The day was very hot and the judge on the bench was freely perspiring.
Finally the judge, drawing off his coat in the midst of the lawyer’s
eloquent address, said:
“Mr. Attorney, excuse me, but suppose you sit down and let Dawes begin
to speak. I want to thin out this crowd.”
* * * * *
A doctor spending a rare and somewhat dull night at his own fireside
received the following message from three fellow practitioners:
“Please step over to the club and join us at a rubber of whist.”
“Jane, dear,” he said to his wife, “I am called away again. It appears
to be a difficult case--there are three other doctors on the spot
already.”
* * * * *
George, the four-year-old grandson of an extremely pious and devout
grandfather, came rushing into the house in a state of wild
excitement. “Grandpa! Grandpa!” he called. “Mr. Barton’s cow is dead!
God called her home!”
* * * * *
Philander C. Knox tells this story of Roosevelt: “Roosevelt,” he said,
“was surprised by a Kansas delegation at Oyster Bay one summer. The
President appeared with his coat and collar off, trousers hitched by
belt, and mopping his forehead. ‘Ah, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘_de_lighted
to see you, _de_lighted. But I am very busy putting in my hay, you
know. Just come down to the barn with me and we’ll talk it over while
I work.’ Down to the barn hustled the delegation and Mr. Roosevelt
seized a pitchfork. But, behold there was no hay on the floor! ‘John,’
shouted the President to sounds in the hayloft; ‘where’s all the hay?’
‘I ain’t had time to throw it back since you threw it up yesterday,
sir.’”
* * * * *
Before the President of a certain Western college had attained his
present high position, a boy entering college was recommended to his
consideration.
“Try to draw the boy out, Professor; criticise him, and tell us what
you think,” the parents said.
To facilitate acquaintance the Professor took the boy for a walk.
After ten minutes’ silence the youth ventured: “Fine day, Professor.”
“Yes,” with a far-away look.
Ten minutes more, and the young man, squirming uncomfortably, said:
“This is a pleasant walk, Professor.”
“Yes.”
Another silence, and then the young man blurted out that he thought
they might have rain.
“Yes,” and this time the Professor went on saying, “Young man, we have
been walking together for half an hour, and you have said nothing
which was not commonplace and stupid.”
“Yes,” said the boy, his irritation getting the better of his modesty,
“and you endorsed every word I said.”
Word from the Professor to the parents was to the effect that the boy
was all right.
* * * * *
A dear old citizen went to the cars the other day to see his daughter
off on a journey. Securing her a seat he passed out of the car and
went around to the car window to say a last parting word. While he was
leaving the car the daughter crossed the aisle to speak to a friend,
and at the same time a grim old maid took the seat and moved up to the
window.
Unaware of the change the old gentleman hurriedly put his head up to
the window and said: “One more kiss, pet.”
In another instant the point of a cotton umbrella was thrust from the
window, followed by the wrathful injunction: “Scat, you gray-headed
wretch!”
* * * * *
There is a young physician who has never been able to smoke a cigar.
“Just one poisons me,” says the youthful doctor.
Recently the doctor was invited to a large dinner-party. When the
women had left the table cigars were accepted by all the men except
the physician. Seeing his friend refuse the cigar the host in
astonishment exclaimed:
“What, not smoking? Why, my dear fellow, you lose half your dinner!”
“Yes, I know I do,” meekly replied the doctor, “but if I smoked one I
should lose the whole of it!”
* * * * *
Once, when Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes was at a charitable fair, he was
asked to furnish a letter for the “post-office.” So he placed a
one-dollar note inside a sheet of paper and wrote on the first page:
“Dear lady, whosoe’er thou art,
Turn this poor page with trembling care;
But hush, oh, hush, thy beating heart,
The one thou lov’st best will be there.”
When the page was turned the one-dollar bill was revealed, and on the
second page he wrote this verse:
“Fair lady, lift thine eyes and tell
If this is not a truthful letter;
This is the ‘one’ thou lovest well,
And naught (0) would make thee love it better.”
* * * * *
As several travelers got into the station ’bus one of the men (who was
quite a portly fellow) noticed that a certain young woman had a grip
exactly like his, but that it was placed with the rest of the luggage,
on top. Thinking there might be some mistake made he kept his inside
and placed it at his feet. He was soon engrossed in his paper, and did
not notice the young woman reach over and draw the grip close to her
side. Being of a humorous turn of mind he waited until she was
occupied with a book and then pulled the grip to its former position,
the rest of the travelers looking on with amused expressions.
In turning over a leaf she looked down and suddenly became aware of
the removal of the grip. She was quite indignant, and with some force
in her voice and manner said, “That is _mine_!” and jerked it back
close to her feet.
Touching his hat politely the owner said, with a merry twinkle in his
eye: “All right, madam; but may I please get my pipe and nightshirt
out? You are welcome to the rest of the things!”
* * * * *
President Eliot, of Harvard, is not a believer in spelling reform. Not
long ago there was a student who was a candidate for the degree of
doctor of philosophy. This student had adopted spelling reform as his
particular line of work, and as commencement day drew near he went to
President Eliot with a request. “You know, Mr. President,” he said
“that you are proposing to make me a Ph.D. Now I have made a specialty
of spelling reform and I always spell philosophy with an ‘f.’ I
therefore called to ask you if you could not make my degree F. D.,
instead of Ph.D.”
“Certainly,” replied the President. “In fact, if you insist, we shall
make it a D. F.”
* * * * *
The following letter was received by the Post-office Department. It
came from a Western postmaster at a small office and read: “In
accordance with the rules of the department, I write you to inform you
that on next Saturday I will close the post-office for one day, as I
am going on a bear hunt. I am not asking your permission to close up
and don’t give a damn if you discharge me; but I will advise now, that
I am the only man in the county who can read and write.”
* * * * *
A young lady at a summer hotel asked an artist friend, who was
spending his vacation there, if he would mind doing a small favor for
her.
“Certainly not,” he said eagerly; “what is it?”
“Thank you so much,” she exclaimed gratefully. “I wish you would stop
at Mrs. Gannon’s little shop and get three large bone buttons, the
kind with two small holes in them. They’re for my new bathing suit,
you know. Just tell her who I am and it will be all right. You needn’t
pay for them.”
Now the artist was a bachelor, and had never bought anything but
collar buttons before. So on the way to the store he kept repeating
the instructions that he had received. Eager to relieve his mind he
rushed up to Mrs. Gannon and reeled off this surprising speech: “I
want three bone buttons for a small bathing suit with two large holes
in it. Just tell me who I am and it will be all right.”
* * * * *
There was not even standing room in the six-o’clock crowded car, but
one more passenger, a young woman, wedged her way along just inside
the doorway. Each time the car took a sudden lurch forward she fell
helplessly back, and three times she landed in the arms of a large,
comfortable man on the back platform. The third time it happened he
said quietly: “Hadn’t you better stay here now?”
* * * * *
The principal of one of Washington’s high schools relates an incident
in connection with the last commencement day. A clever girl had taken
one of the principal prizes. At the close of the exercises her friends
crowded about her to offer congratulations.
“Weren’t you awfully afraid you wouldn’t get it, Hattie?” asked one,
“when there were so many contestants?”
“Oh, no!” cheerily exclaimed Hattie. “Because I knew when it came to
English composition I had ’em all skinned.”
* * * * *
The Guards’ Band was playing on the terrace at Windsor Castle during
luncheon, and the Queen was so pleased with a lively march that she
sent a maid of honor to inquire what it was. The maid of honor blushed
deeply as she answered on her return: “‘Come where the Booze is
Cheaper,’ your Majesty.”
* * * * *
Mark Twain once wrote to Andrew Carnegie as follows:
“_My dear Mr. Carnegie:_ I see by the papers that you are very
prosperous. I want to get a hymn-book. It costs two dollars. I will
bless you, God will bless you, and it will do a great deal of good.
Yours truly, Mark Twain.”
“P. S.--Don’t send the hymn-book; send me the two dollars.”
* * * * *
A physician started a model insane asylum, says the New York “Sun,”
and set apart one ward especially for crazy motorists and chauffeurs.
Taking a friend through the building he pointed out with particular
pride the automobile ward and called attention to its elegant
furnishings and equipment.
“But,” said the friend, “the place is empty; I don’t see any
patients.”
“Oh, they are all under the cots fixing the slats,” explained the
physician.
* * * * *
An aged, gray-haired and very wrinkled old woman, arrayed in the
outlandish calico costume of the mountains, was summoned as a witness
in court to tell what she knew about a fight in her house. She took
the witness-stand with evidences of backwardness and proverbial
Bourbon verdancy. The Judge asked her in a kindly voice what took
place. She insisted it did not amount to much, but the Judge by his
persistency finally got her to tell the story of the bloody fracas.
“Now, I tell ye, Jedge, it didn’t amount to nuthn’. The fust I knowed
about it was when Bill Saunder called Tom Smith a liar, en Tom knocked
him down with a stick o’ wood. One o’ Bill’s friends then cut Tom with
a knife, slicin’ a big chunk out o’ him. Then Sam Jones, who was a
friend of Tom’s, shot the other feller and two more shot him, en
three or four others got cut right smart by somebody. That nachly
caused some excitement, Jedge, en then they commenced fightin’.”
* * * * *
One morning, as Mr. Clemens returned from a neighborhood call, sans
necktie, his wife met him at the door with the exclamation: “There,
Sam, you have been over to the Stowes’s again without a necktie! It’s
really disgraceful the way you neglect your dress!”
Her husband said nothing, but went up to his room.
A few minutes later his neighbor--Mrs. S.--was summoned to the door by
a messenger, who presented her with a small box neatly done up. She
opened it and found a black silk necktie, accompanied by the following
note: “Here is a necktie. Take it out and look at it. I think I stayed
half an hour this morning. At the end of that time will you kindly
return it, as it is the only one I have?--MARK TWAIN.”
* * * * *
The teacher was teaching a class in the infant Sabbath-school room and
was making her pupils finish each sentence to show that they
understood her.
“The idol had eyes,” the teacher said, “but it could not--”
“See,” cried the children.
“It had ears, but it could not--”
“Hear,” was the answer.
“It had lips,” she said, “but it could not--”
“Speak,” once more replied the children.
“It had a nose, but it could not--”
“Wipe it,” shouted the children; and the lesson had to stop a moment.
* * * * *
She was the dearest and most affectionate little woman in the world,
and so thoughtful of her husband’s comfort and his needs. One evening,
when company was expected, she inquired solicitously:
“Aren’t you going to wear that necktie I gave you on Christmas,
dearie?”
“Of course I am, Henrietta,” responded dearie. “I was saving it up. I
am going to wear that red necktie, and my Nile-green smoking-jacket,
and my purple and yellow socks, and open that box of cigars you gave
me, all at once--to-night.”
* * * * *
When J. M. Barrie addressed an audience of one thousand girls at Smith
College during an American visit, a friend asked him how he had found
the experience.
“Well,” replied Mr. Barrie, “to tell you the truth I’d much rather
talk one thousand times to one girl than to talk one time to a
thousand girls.”
* * * * *
The Rev. Mr. Goodman (inspecting himself in mirror)--“Caroline, I
don’t really believe I ought to wear this wig. It looks like living a
lie.”