trouble you. That wig will never fool anybody for one moment.”
* * * * *
A young man had been calling now and then on a young lady, when one
night as he sat in the parlor waiting for her to come down, her mother
entered the room instead and asked in a grave, stern way what his
intentions were. He was about to stammer a reply, when suddenly the
young lady called down from the head of the stairs, “Oh, mama, that
isn’t the one.”
* * * * *
A woman hurried up to a policeman at the corner of Twenty-third Street
in New York City.
“Does this crosstown car take you down to the Bridge toward Brooklyn?”
she demanded.
“Why, madam,” returned the policeman, “do you want to go to Brooklyn?”
“No, I don’t want to,” the woman replied, “but I have to.”
* * * * *
Walter Appleton Clark, whose artistic career was cut short by an
untimely death, had a strong sense of humor. In going through a
millionaire’s stables, where the floors and walls were of white tiles,
drinking fountains of marble, mahogany mangers, silver trimmings, and
so forth and so on, “Well,” said the millionaire proudly, “is there
anything lacking?” “I can think of nothing,” said Clark, “except a
sofa for each horse.”
* * * * *
Oliver Herford, equally famous as poet, illustrator, and brilliant
wit, was entertaining four magazine editors at luncheon when the bell
rang, and a maid entered with the mail.
“Oh,” said an editor, “an epistle.”
“No,” said Mr. Herford, tearing open the envelope, “not an epistle, a
collect.”
* * * * *
An old gentleman on board one of the numerous steamers which ply
between Holyhead and the Irish coast missed his handkerchief, and
accused a soldier standing by his side of stealing it, which the
soldier, an Irishman, denied. Some few minutes afterward the gentleman
found the missing article in his hat; he was then most profuse in his
apologies to the soldier.
“Not another wurrd,” said Pat; “it was a misthake on both sides--ye
took me for a thafe, and I took ye for a gintlemon.”
* * * * *
The family were gathered in the library enjoying a magnificent
thunder-storm when the mother thought of Dorothy alone in the nursery.
Fearing lest the little daughter should be awakened and feel afraid,
she slipped away to quiet her. Pausing at the door, however, in a
vivid flash of lightning that illuminated the whole room, she saw the
little girl sitting up in bed clapping her hands in excitement and
shouting, “Bang it again, God! Bang it again!”
* * * * *
A little girl ate at a feast a great quantity of chocolate eggs and
bananas and cakes and peanuts and things of that sort, and finally the
time came for her to go.
“But you will have a little more cake before you go?” her hostess said
politely.
“No, thank you, ma’am. I’m full,” said the little girl.
“Then,” said the hostess, “you’ll put some nuts and candies in your
pockets, won’t you?”
The little girl shook her head regretfully.
“They’re full, too,” she said.
* * * * *
“My dear, I couldn’t match that dress goods.”
“You couldn’t?”
“No, and after what the various clerks said to me, I can’t see why a
person in tolerable circumstances should want to match it.”
* * * * *
A boy in a certain school would persist in saying “have went.” One day
the teacher kept him in, saying, “While I am out of the room you may
write ‘have gone’ fifty times.” When the teacher returned she found he
had dutifully performed the task, but on the other side of the paper
was a message from the absent one: “I have went. John White.”
* * * * *
On one of his trips abroad Mr. Evarts landed at Liverpool. The steamer
was proceeding slowly up the river to the wharf, and Mr. Evarts, after
looking at the muddy waters of the Mersey, said to his companion,
“Evidently the quality of mercy is not strained.”
* * * * *
Once, at breakfast at a friend’s, Phillips Brooks noticed the
diminutive but amusingly dignified daughter of the house having
constant trouble with the large fork that she was vainly trying to
handle properly with her tiny fingers. In a spirit of kindness,
mingled with mischief, the Bishop said:
“Why don’t you give up the fork, my dear, and use your fingers? You
know, fingers were made before forks.”
Quick as a flash came the crushing retort: “Mine weren’t.”
* * * * *
Two stout old Germans were enjoying their pipes and placidly listening
to the strains of the summer-garden orchestra. One of them in tipping
his chair back stepped on a parlor match, which exploded with a bang.
“Dot vas not on de program,” he said, turning to his companion.
“Vat was not?”
“Vy, dot match.”
“Vat match?”
“De match I valked on.”
“Vell, I didn’t see no match; vat aboud it?”
“Vy, I valked on a match and it vent bang, and I said it vas not on de
program.”
The other picked up his program and read it through very carefully. “I
don’t see it on de program,” he said.
“Vell, I said it vas not on the program, didn’t I?”
“Vell, vat has it got to do mit de program, anyvay? Egsplain
yourself.”
* * * * *
Charles Dana Gibson, the creator of the “Gibson girl,” is one of the
tallest men in his profession, standing six feet two inches tall and
weighing two hundred pounds.
A fellow-illustrator, called upon Mr. Gibson in his studio one day and
found him working at a specially constructed table accommodated to his
height and breadth. He shook hands cordially with his visitor, but his
frank face revealed deep discontent. His visitor expressed the fear
that his visit was untimely.
“Not at all, my dear fellow,” Mr. Gibson responded. “But I was just
looking at this as you came in,” and he showed him a very small pen,
called a crow-quill, with which illustrators make their sketches. The
crow-quill is smaller than the ordinary pen and holder, a fragile,
perishable, and insignificant instrument.
“Just look at it,” complained Mr. Gibson, “and think of a man of my
size earning his living with a thing like that!”
* * * * *
Going into a port where the water was very deep--Rio de Janeiro, I
believe--relates Captain A. T. Mahan, the chain cables “got away,” as
the expression is, control was lost, and shackle after shackle tore
out of the hawse-holes with tremendous rattling and roaring. The
admiral was on deck at the moment, and when the chain had been stopped
and secured he said to the captain: “Alfred, send for the young man in
charge of those chains and give him a good setting-down. Ask him what
he means by letting such things happen.” Alfred was a mild person, and
clearly did not like his job; he could not have come up to the
admiral’s standard. The latter saw it, and said: “Perhaps you had
better leave it to me. I’ll settle him.” Fixing his eyes on the
offender, he said, sternly: “What do you mean by this, sir? Why the
hell didn’t you stop that chain?” The culprit looked quietly at him
and said: “How the hell could I?” After a moment the admiral turned to
the captain and said meekly: “That’s true, Alfred; how the hell could
he?”
* * * * *
An old darky of the Blue Grass State was looking at the high steppers
belonging to his new master, who said, “I suppose your master down
South had a good many horses?” “’Deed we did, sah, dat we did; an’ ole
massa had ’em all name’ Bible names. Faith, Hope, and Charity, Bustle,
Stays, and Crinoline was all one spring’s colts!”
* * * * *
The wife of a well-known judge lost her cook, and since she had no
other recourse she rolled up her sleeves and for a week provided such
meals as the judge had not enjoyed since those happy days when they
didn’t keep a cook. The judge’s delight was so great that by way of
acknowledgment he presented his wife with a beautiful ermine coat.
Naturally the incident was noised about among their acquaintances and
a spirit of envious emulation was developed in certain quarters. Mrs.
Jerome, after reciting the story to her husband, asked, “What do I
get, Jerry, if I will do the cooking for a week?”
“At the end of the week, dear, you’ll get one of those long crêpe
veils.”
* * * * *
Perhaps one of Lord Beaconsfield’s brightest flings was at the wife of
his bitterest political foe. Mrs. Gladstone passed the Prime Minister
one day, and he cast a glance at her over his shoulder, saying: “There
goes a woman without one redeeming fault.”
* * * * *
A private, anxious to secure leave of absence, sought his captain with
a most convincing tale about a sick wife breaking her heart for his
presence.
The officer, familiar with the soldier’s ways, replied:
“I am afraid you are not telling the truth. I have just received a
letter from your wife urging me not to let you come home because you
get drunk, and mistreat her shamefully.”
The private saluted and started to leave the room. He paused at the
door, asking: “Sor, may I spake to you, not as an officer, but as mon
to mon?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“You and I are two of the most illigant liars the Lord ever made. I’m
not married at all.”
* * * * *
A very prosy gentleman, who was in the habit of waylaying Douglas
Jerrold, met his victim and, planting himself in the way, said: “Well,
Jerrold, what is going on to-day?”
Jerrold replied, darting past the inquirer, “I am!”
* * * * *
Foote, the English actor, was once praising the hospitality of the
Irish, after one of his trips to Ireland. A gentleman in his audience
asked him whether he had ever been at Cork. “No, sir,” replied Foote;
“but I have seen many drawings of it.”
* * * * *
A lady one day meeting a girl who had formerly been in her employ
inquired, “Well Mary, where do you live now?” “Please ma’am, I don’t
live nowhere now,” rejoined the girl; “I am married.”
* * * * *
When a Mr. Wilberforce was a candidate for election in Hull, England,
his sister, an amiable and witty young lady offered to make a present
of a new gown to each of the wives of the men who voted for her
brother. Upon hearing this, the crowd whom she was addressing broke
out into cries of “Miss Wilberforce forever.” “I thank you gentlemen,”
the young lady replied, “but I do not wish to be Miss Wilberforce
forever!”
* * * * *
“How do you define ‘black as your hat?’” said a schoolmaster to one of
his pupils.
“Darkness that may be felt,” replied the budding genius.
* * * * *
She--“He married her for her money. Wasn’t that awful?”
He--“Did he get it?”
She--“No.”
He--“It was.”
* * * * *
“My, but it is hot in your office,” said a client to his lawyer.
“It ought to be,” replied the lawyer, “I make my bread here.”
* * * * *
The town council of a small German community met to inspect a new site
for a cemetery. They assembled at a chapel, and as it was a warm day
some one suggested they leave their coats there.
“Some one can stay behind and watch them,” suggested Herr Botteles.
“What for?” demanded Herr Ehrlich. “If we are all going out together
what need is there for any one to watch the clothes?”
* * * * *
After a brief two weeks’ acquaintance he invited her to go to the
ball-game with him.
“There’s Jarvis! He’s a good one. He’s a pitcher for your life. And
that’s Johnson, over there. He’s going to be our best man in a few
weeks.”
“Oh, Walter! He’ll do, all right,” she lisped hurriedly, “but it is so
sudden, dear.”
* * * * *
Dr. Edward Waldo Emerson, of Concord, is fond of telling of an old
servant whose heart was exceedingly kind, and in whom the qualities of
pity and compassion were developed nearly to perfection. He was once
driving his master and Emerson through the country. As they approached
a new house that the master was building, they saw an old woman
sneaking away with a bundle of wood. “Jabez, Jabez,” cried the
master, “do you see that old woman taking my wood?” Jabez looked with
pity at the old woman, then with scorn at his master. “No, sir,” he
said stoutly, “I don’t see her, and I didn’t think that you would see
her either.”
* * * * *
“They said that we would never be happy,” moaned the young bride.
“But you _are_ happy.”
“But now they say it won’t last.”
* * * * *
“That fellow,” said Alfred Henry Lewis, the other day, when a certain
well-known Tammany man was mentioned, “puts up a good bluff, but there
is nothing to him. Open the front door and you are in his back yard.”
* * * * *
Little Paul trying on his grandmother’s glasses--“Grandma, what is it
between my eyes and the glasses, I can’t see anything.”
“Eighty years, my dear.”
* * * * *
To Richard Mansfield an enthusiastic woman admirer had paid tribute of
praise, adding: “I suppose, sir, that when in the spirit of those
great rôles you forget your real self for days.”
“Yes, madam, for days, as well as nights. It is then I do those
dreadful things--trample on the upturned features of my leading lady
and hurl tenderloin steaks at waiters.”
“And you do not know of it at all?”
“Not a solitary thing, until I read the papers the next day,” said Mr.
Mansfield solemnly.
* * * * *
When Marquis Ito was in the United States, in 1901, an inexperienced
St. Paul reporter sought an interview with him. He met Ito’s
secretary, and made known his mission. “Me newspaper man. Me writee
news. Me heardee marquis velly ill. He better to-day? You savve?”
began the reporter, to the secretary’s amazement. But the latter was
equal to the occasion. “Me savve,” he said gravely. “Marquis he no
better. Belly blad. Catchee cold. Doctor him no lettee him leave bled
to-day. You savve?” The interview proceeded in this way, but at its
termination the secretary, with a twinkle in his eye, remarked: “The
marquis is greatly fatigued by his arduous journey, but--” But the
reporter had fled.
* * * * *
Professor Phelps, who disliked mathematics, was once walking with
Professor Newton, who began discussing a problem so deep that his
companion could not follow it. He fell into a brown study, from which
he was aroused by Newton’s emphatic assertion, “And that, you see,
gives us _x_!” “Does it?” asked Mr. Phelps, politely. “Why, doesn’t
it?” exclaimed the professor, excitedly, alarmed at the possibility of
a flaw in his calculations. Quickly his mind ran back and detected a
mistake. “You are right, Mr. Phelps. You are right!” shouted the
professor. “It doesn’t give us _x_; it gives us _y_.” And from that
time Professor Phelps was looked upon as a mathematical prodigy, the
first man who ever tripped Newton.
* * * * *
Ambassador Choate and his daughter visited the restaurant made famous
by Dr. Samuel Johnson. It is the custom there to give the guests lark
pie, such as Johnson used to eat, and the Choates were served with one
of the pasties. Choate was in the chair that Johnson was wont to
occupy, and had just begun his meal, when his daughter exclaimed:
“Isn’t it funny, papa? You are in Johnson’s chair and eating a
tradition.” “Eating a tradition!” retorted the ambassador struggling
valiantly; “I have got hold of one of Johnson’s larks.”
* * * * *
A New England school-teacher recited “The Landing of the Pilgrims” to
her pupils, then asked each of them to draw from their imagination a
picture of Plymouth Rock. One little fellow hesitated and then raised
his hand. “Well, Willie, what is it?” asked the teacher. “Please
teacher, do you want us to draw a hen or a rooster?”
* * * * *
An English gentleman had sent a private note to a marquis, on a
personal matter, by hand, and on the return of the man questioned him
as to his reception. “Ah, sir,” said the man, “there’s no use writing
him any letter, he can’t see to read them. He’s blind.”
“Blind!”
“Yes, sir. He asked me twice where my hat was, and I had it on my head
all the time.”
* * * * *
A magician was performing in a Kentucky town, and during the evening
announced that in his next trick he would need a pint flask of whisky.
No move was made to supply the liquor. “Perhaps you did not understand
me. Will some gentleman kindly loan me a pint flask of whisky?” Then a
lank man in the rear of the hall arose. “Mistah,” said he, “will a
quart flask do?” “Just as well, sir,” replied the magician, and every
gentleman in the hall arose with flask extended.
* * * * *
“Phoebe,” said a mistress in reproof to her colored servant whom she
found smoking a short pipe after having repeatedly threatened to
discharge her if again caught in the act, “if you won’t stop that bad
habit for any other reason do so because it is right. You are a good
church member--and, don’t you know that smoking makes the breath
unpleasant, and that nothing unclean can enter Heaven?” “’Deed,
missie, I does,” said the woman, “but bress’ yo’ heart, when I go to
Heaben I’ll leave my bref behin’.”
* * * * *
It was the custom of a certain deacon, when dining at the home of one
of his best friends, to drink a glass of milk, as a prelude to his
dinner. One day when the minister was scheduled to appear, instead of
the rich, foamy glass of milk, his friend placed beside his plate a
glass of milk punch. After the blessing, the deacon seized his glass
and drank to the last drop, and then exclaimed as he closed his eyes
and smacked his lips, “_Oh_, what a cow!”
* * * * *
Dean Hole of Rochester, England, told of a very innocent and obliging
curate who went to a Yorkshire parish where many of the parishioners
bred horses and sometimes raced them. A few Sundays after his arrival
he was asked to invite the prayers of the congregation for Lucy Grey.
He did so. They prayed for three Sundays for her. On the fourth, the
church clerk told the curate that he need not do it any more. “Why,”
he asked, “is she dead?” “No,” said the clerk, “she’s won the
steeplechase.”
* * * * *
The late Richard Henry Stoddard while endeavoring to procure an
impromptu luncheon for a number of his friends after his wife and the
servants had retired, found a box of sardines. His vigorous remarks,
inspired by the sardine-can’s objections to the “open sesame” of a
dull jack-knife, attracted the attention of Mrs. Stoddard on the floor
above.
“What _are_ you doing?” she called down.
“Opening a can of sardines.”
“With what?”
“A dashed old jack-knife,” cried the exasperated poet; “what did you
think I was opening it with?”
“Well, dear,” she answered, “I didn’t think you were opening it with
prayer.”
* * * * *
“What is the matter with your father, Gladys?” asked the child’s aunt.
“He’s awful sick with a headache,” the little girl answered, “an’ he’s
hurt, too, ’cause mama said he’s broke his resolution.”
* * * * *
Colored people are proverbially fond of funerals, and Mrs. Walker’s
cook was trying to make her mistress realize what she had missed by
not attending the funeral of a prominent citizen of their village.
“Mis’ Fanny,” she said, “you sholy orto hev been thar. I ain’ nevvah
seen sech a big funril in dis heah town. Dey had all de kerridges fum
bofe liberty stables, ’mos’ all de private conveniences, an’ dat new
fambly fum de North was dere in a two-hoss syringe!”
* * * * *
William Bourke Cochran took his seat in Congress on the day that the
House went into turmoil over the special report on post-office
affairs. “I suppose it looks like old times to you, Cochran,” said a
friend, who, with others, had crowded around to welcome him back. Just
then such epithets as “coward,” “knave,” “scoundrel,” and “liar,”
hurtled across the chamber. “Well, I can’t say it looks much like old
times,” replied Cochran, “too many new faces for that. But it
certainly sounds like old times.”
* * * * *
This happened in Scotland: The last edition of the newspapers had been
sold out and the newsboys were calculating their takings. “Hallo,”
said Jimmy, in alarm, “I’m a ’a’penny short!” “Well, wats the use of
’arpin’ on it?” growled Dick, as he calmly cracked a nut; “you don’t
think I took it, do you?” “I don’t say you ’ave. But there it is, I’m
a ’a’penny short, and you’re eatin’ nuts.”
* * * * *
In _the_ “Diary of a Frenchman” by Flandrau, he makes a student say to
his chum: “I’ve an idea that we’re going to have ‘je suis bon’ in
French to-day. I wish you would write out a few tenses for me.”
Whereupon his friend wrote:
“Je suis bon.
Tu es bones,
Il est beans,
Nous sommes bon bons,
Vous êtes bonbonnières,
Ils sont bon-ton.”
* * * * *
Tolstoy told Isabel Habgard, who has translated many of his books, a
good story of one of his ancestors, an army officer, who was an
excellent mimic. One day he was impersonating the Emperor Paul to a
group of his friends, when Paul himself entered, and for some moments
looked on, unperceived, at the antics of the young man. Tolstoy
finally turned, and beholding the emperor, bowed his head and was
silent. “Go on, sir,” said Paul; “continue the performance.” The young
man hesitated a moment, and then, folding his arms and imitating every
gesture and intonation of his sovereign, he said: “Tolstoy, you
deserve to be degraded, but I remember the thoughtlessness of youth,
and you are pardoned.” The czar smiling, said, “Well, be it so.”
* * * * *
When President Nicholas Murray Butler was at college, certain freshmen
of his time made no scruple of stealing a pail of milk which a
dairyman daily placed outside the door of Mr. Butler’s room while the
occupant was in class. In order to foil the boys, Mr. Butler printed a
sign in big letters, “I have poisoned this milk with arsenic.” Upon
his return he found the milk intact, but added to the notice were
these words: “So have we.”
* * * * *
There is an amusing story told of a clergyman, who, upon one of his
trips through the West, observed that almost every man he met and
spoke with used profanity. Finally he found one man who talked to him
for twenty minutes without using an oath. The clergyman shook hands
with him at parting and said: “You don’t know how glad I am to have a
chance to have a talk with a man like you. You are the first man I
have met for three days who could talk for five minutes without
swearing.” The stranger, shocked, instantly and innocently ejaculated:
“Well, I’ll be d----d!”
* * * * *
The other day, while shopping, a lady accidentally picked up another
lady’s umbrella from the counter, and had the mistake pointed out to
her in a rather frigid manner. She returned the umbrella with
apologies, and then remembered that she had no umbrella with her.
As it had begun to rain, she bought one, as well as one for a birthday
present for a friend. With the two umbrellas in her hand, she boarded
a car and, as luck would have it, sat down opposite the lady whose
umbrella she had picked up earlier in the store. As the latter swept
out of the car she smiled again frigidly, and remarked to the lady of
the umbrellas, “I see you have had a successful day.”
* * * * *
“If a fairy should appear to you and offer you three wishes,” said the
imaginative young woman, “what would you do?” “I’d sign the pledge,”
answered the matter-of-fact young man.
* * * * *
A summer tourist was passing through a German village in the West
recently, when a stout German girl came to the front door and called
to a small girl playing in front. “Gusty! Gusty!” she said, “come in
and eat yourself. Ma’s on the table, and pa’s half et!”
* * * * *
A university of Illinois professor is very popular among the students.
He was entertaining a group of them at his residence one night. Taking
down a magnificent sword that hung over the fireplace, he brandished
it about, exclaiming, “Never will I forget the day I drew this blade
for the first time.” “Where did you draw it, sir?” an awe-struck
freshman asked. “At a raffle,” said the professor.
* * * * *
In the vicinity of Germantown there lived a worthy old lady and her
son John, who were once called upon to entertain a number of ladies at
dinner during Quarterly meeting. As John began to carve the broiled
chickens, he entered upon a flowery speech of welcome, but in the
midst of his flattering utterances his mother, who was somewhat deaf,
piped up from the other end of the table: “You needn’t be praisin’ of
’em up, John, I’m afraid they’re a lot of tough old hens, every one of
’em.”
* * * * *
One of Père Ollivier’s flock, a very beautiful and handsomely dressed
woman, coming very late to church one Sunday morning, caused some
disturbance and stir among the worshipers by her entrance and
interrupted the flow of eloquence of the worthy father, who, very
irritable and easily put out, said: “Madame perhaps waited to take her
chocolate before coming to church?” To this, madame, unabashed,
graciously replied: “Yes, mon père; and two rolls with it.”
* * * * *