plenipotentiary from Persia, was one of the favorites in Washington
society while there. He was very fond of going out and calling on the
ladies, and was always most hospitably received wherever he went. That
is, almost always, for an experience he had one Sunday afternoon proved
that he was not as cordially received at one house as had been his wont.
Ghooly Khan started out with the purpose of making a round of calls. It
is his custom to pay his respects to the ladies of the fashionable world
on Sunday the same as on the week days. The day being an extremely
pleasant one, his landau was not brought into use. He walked from his
residence on M street, to Massachusetts avenue, in the neighborhood of
Fourteenth street, where the subjects of his first call resided. Walking
up the stone steps in an indolent fashion, he reached the door and
rather timidly touched the electric bell. After lingering some moments
the servant appeared, and before Ghooly Khan could utter a word she
shouted out: "The ladies are all busy and cannot be bothered with you
now."
"Well," said the minister, completely nonplussed, "there must be a
mistake; take in my card."
"Oh! don't worry them now," answered the servant, not allowing him to
finish his sentence. "They are all about going to dinner and don't care
for any one to see them at this time--you'd better come again in the
morning; and the side door is always the handiest place for such as yez
to call."
The minister waited for no more. The rebuff he had received at the hands
of the unruly servant completely paralyzed him. He concluded that he had
a sufficient dose of American society.
The ladies of the house soon learned of the "horrible" manner in which
their distinguished caller had been received, and they at once made
heroic and happily successful efforts to have the affair settled on a
basis satisfactory not only to themselves but to the distinguished envoy
from Teheran.
--_New York Tribune._
"I want the library," said Mr. Gaswell to the architect, "to be the
largest and airiest room in the house." "I don't see what you want with
a library," interposed Mrs. Gaswell, "you know very well you don't
smoke."
--_Boston Transcript._
The Difference.
The following anecdote, which we have received as authentic from the
lips of a clergyman, sets forth in a very pleasant way the folly of
reproaching preachers as hirelings, merely because they receive temporal
support from their congregations.
At the meeting of a presbytery in an eastern state, it fell to the lot
of one of the ministers to be quartered with a man belonging to a
denomination which does not allow of salaried preachers. He was accosted
by his host as follows:
"What is thy name, friend? I mean the name thy parents gave thee."
"John."
"Has thee any objections that I should call thee by that name?"
"Certainly not; my mother always calls me John."
"Well, John, I understand thee belongs to the class of hireling
preachers."
"You are greatly mistaken, sir; I do not belong to that class."
"I mean thee is one of those preachers who receive pay for preaching."
"No, sir; I receive nothing for preaching to my people."
"How then," said the interrogator, evidently surprised and disconcerted,
"does thee manage to live?"
"Why, I work for my people six days, and then I preach for them on
Sundays for nothing."
--_Yankee Blade._
Sir Wilfred Lawson's Story.
Sir Wilfred Lawson told the following story the other evening: A student
at college was sent for by the Don, who said--"Sir, I am told you have a
barrel of beer in your room, which is contrary to all orders." And the
young man said: "Well, sir, that is true; but the fact is the doctors
told me that if I drank this beer I should get stronger." The Don said:
"Are you stronger?" "Yes, sir, indeed I am," was the reply, "for when
the barrel came in I could scarcely move it, and now I can roll it round
the room."
--_Glasgow Weekly Mail._
Expected It.
"I'm in a pickle," remarked a young employe at the store.
"I've been expecting for some time that you'd get into a pickle," was
the rather forbidding reply.
"Why, sir?"
"Because you are so confoundedly fresh."
--_Albany Argus._
[Illustration]
ANCIENT MARINER--Holy smoke, where's that young feller gone to? Didn't
'pear quite natral like anyhow.
Truth in Absence.
"Charlotte, my dear, how is it I find you weeping? Have you bad news
from your husband?"
"Oh! worse than that! Arthur writes me from Carlsbad that he would die
with grief at being absent from me, were it not that he gazes at my
picture and covers it with a thousand kisses every day."
"That is very nice of him; but surely you are not crying about that?
Most woman would give anything to have such a poetic and devoted
husband."
"Oh, yes, Arthur is very poetical; but you don't know. Just to try him,
I put mother's photo into his traveling bag instead of my own, and the
wretch has never found it out. Boo-hoo-hoo!"
--_Pick-Me Up._
Another Kind of Habit.
Old Grinder (to seedy applicant for job)--I hope that no bad habits have
brought you to this poverty?
Borrowit--One, sir.
"Ah, I am glad you are frank about it. What was it?"
"This played-out old suit of mine. It has ruined my chances everywhere."
--_Texas Siftings._
Family Loyalty.
A Stevens avenue young lady was much pained and shocked as she walked
down the street yesterday to see her young brother sitting astride the
prostrate body of another boy and raining down blows upon his struggling
victim.
"Johnny!" she almost screamed, "what are you doing? Come here this
minute. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, fighting this way in the
street?"
The boy reluctantly arose from his vanquished antagonist and faced his
indignant sister. Then he explained:
"Well, I don't care. He said you wasn't good looking. I don't think you
are either; but it ain't none o' his funeral. So I licked him."
--_Minneapolis Journal._
Not Related.
Magistrate--O'Rally, you are charged with assaulting and brutally
beating Michael McDooly at the reunion of the O'Rally family yesterday.
Have you anything to say?
O'Rally--Yes, yer Honor. The bloke's an imposthor, sorr, and hasn't wan
dhrop of the O'Rally blood in his skin, begorra, an' he dhrank oop all
av the beer.
Magistrate--How is this, McDooly? Are you a kinsman of the prisoner?
McDooly--Faix, an' sure it is that I am, yer Honor; his grandfather wor
Pathrick O'Rally av Belfast, an'----
O'Rally--An' bedad, phwat do that prove, yer Worship?
McDooly--An' Pathrick O'Rally's dochter marrit me own----
O'Rally--He's lyin', yer Honor; he's lyin'. Me grandfather never had any
cheeldren at all, at all, sorr.
--_Life._
One of Chauncey's Latest.
Chauncey M. Depew tells the following story of another of the many
interesting characters he encountered last Fall while addressing his
fellow citizens on the vital issues of the campaign. It doesn't sound so
much like a true story as some that are extant, but it is getting pretty
late in the day to doubt his word:
One night, after the meeting was over and while the hall was clearing, a
weather-beaten man buttonholed me and said:
"I'm postmaster out here at Shingle Corners. Blaze away and elect your
man if you want to."
"You don't care for the office, then?" I said.
"No, that ain't it," he replied. "It don't pay but $14 a year, or mebbe
good years, when I boom 'er a little, $15, but it's powerful handy to
have in the house. No, my idee is that we can keep it in the fam'ly
anyhow."
"How's that?"
"The old woman, you see, she's a rip-snortin' Republican, powerful so,
reg'lar uncompromisin'. If Cleveland gets it I stay; if Harrison slides
in the old woman comes to the front for her reward. Nobody else wants
it, so there we be."
"Well, you're all right then."
"You bet we are. If we get tired of it or too old for it, or anything
ever, there's my boy, a red-hot Republican, and my oldest gal, Democrat
from 'way back. Oh, we're hustlers in our fam'ly when it comes to
politics."
"But suppose the Mugwumps should develop power some day and carry
things?" I asked.
"Well," he replied, "we will soon be fixed for that, too. The baby is a
Mugwump--I know it 'cause he howls all the time. If you see anybody
lookin' for p'ints on keepin' a good thing in the family jess send him
out to Shingle Corners."
--_Wasp._
But They Read of It.
Mr. Porker (of Chicago)--Talk about enthusiasm in your city over the
fair! Why, I'll venture to say that there are some people in New York
who haven't even heard of it.
Mr. Gotham--Well, if there are, they must be the inmates of the deaf and
dumb asylum.
V.S.
Oklahoma Hotel Rules
1. If the bugs are troublesome you'll find the kloroform in a bottle on
the shelf.
2. Gents goin' to bed with their boots on will be charged extra.
3. Three raps at the door means that there is a murder in the house, and
you must get up.
4. Please rite your name on the wall paper so that we know you've been
here.
5. The other leg of the chair is in the closet if you need it.
6. If that hole where that pane of glass is out is too much for you,
you'll find a pair of pants behind the door to stuff in it.
7. The shooting of a pistol is no cause for any alarm.
8. If you're too cold, put the oilcloth over your bed.
9. Caroseen lamps extra; candles free, but they mustn't burn all night.
10. Don't tare off the wall paper to lite your pipe with. Nuff of that
already.
11. Guests will not take out them bricks in the mattress.
12. If it rains through that hole overhead, you'll find an umbrella
under the bed.
13. The rats won't hurt you if they do chase each other across your
face.
14. Two men in one room must put up with one chair.
15. Please don't empty the sawdust out of the pillers.
16. Don't kick about the roches. We don't charge extra.
--_Spokane Globe._
Electricity Will Do Away With All This.
"I suppose this is my noose suit," laughed the condemned criminal when
the jail warden brought him his clothes on the morning of the execution.
"Why," replied the warden, "you are as jolly as if you had been taking a
drop."
"I'm going to take one by and by."
"Come, come," said the warden, seriously, "this is no time for joking."
"Why not?" asked the culprit, "ain't the whole thing going to end in a
choke?"
--_Boston Courier._
[Illustration]
A Bitter Reflection.
Oh why so sad, my lady fair?
What pales thy cheek and dims thy eye?
Thy drooping face is mark'd with care,
Thy heaving breast betrays a sigh.
What lacks thy lot to make it sweet?
What joy is there that is not thine?
What makes that heart in sorrow beat
And gives of happiness no sign?
"Ah, woe is me! I loved a youth,
Handsome in face, and brave and strong.
The paths of honor and of truth
Were his, for he could do no wrong.
Two years ago he sailed away
To seek his fortune o'er the seas,
And I've been yearning every day
That he'd return his love to please.
"But ah! I've waited long in vain
For my old sweetheart to return;
No message came across the main
From him for whom my soul did yearn.
Until to-day, when I am told
His ship is due to come in port;
He comes back worth a pile of gold,
At least, so says the last report."
Then why repine, sweet maid? You should
Be overjoyed to hear the news;
You soon will wed a husband good,
How can you, then, this grief excuse?
The lady answer'd. "Would you know
Why tear drops from my eyes now fall?
To tell the true cause of my woe,
I--married--some--one--else--last--Fall."
JOHN S. GREY.
The buckwheat crop this year takes the cake over all former seasons. It
wins by a mere scratch, however.--_Philadelphia Press._ Some door jambs
look as though there had been a good deal of scratching in former years.
C. A. M.
The man who is given to sober reflection seldom gets into a tight place.
--_Boston Courier._
The owner first breaks the race-horse; then the race-horse proceeds to
break the owner.
--_Washington Capital._
Dr. Brown-Sequard's new elixir of life is made from dogs, probably some
infusion of bark.
--_Toronto Globe._
A Mistake at Table.
"Will you pass me the butter, please?" asked a stranger of a snob at a
restaurant table.
"That's the waiter over there, sir," was the supercilious reply.
"I beg your pardon," remarked the stranger. "I did make a mistake."
"You're only adding insult, sir," broke in the snob; "nothing could
induce me to believe that you mistook me for a waiter!"
"Certainly not," returned the stranger. "I mistook you for a gentleman."
--_Detroit Free Press._
Answering the Question.
Hotel Clerk--Is there anything that I can do for you?
Seedy Man--Yes, sir, you can loan me five dollars.
"But I'm not going to do it."
"No! I didn't think you would. I merely wanted to answer your question."
--_Merchant Traveler._
How Appearances Deceive.
A portly citizen left a Woodward avenue car at High street between
showers yesterday, but was hardly on the sidewalk before he began
yelling and beckoning at the car.
"It's agin orders to stop except at crossings," observed a passenger on
the rear platform, as the conductor reached up to the bell-rope.
"Yes, but he has probably forgotten something."
"Well, let him get it when the car comes down. I have no patience with
forgetful men."
"I guess I'll stop, anyhow."
"It's a shame to do it."
The car was stopped and the man came running and puffing to call out:
"Left my five dollar silk umbrella in the car."
"Yes, and here it is. I was keeping it for you!" replied the individual
who had opposed a stop.
"Thanks. You are an honest man. If there were more men like you this
would be a better world to live in. Here--have a cigar."
--_Detroit Free Press._
One Idea of It.
Farmer Railfence--Just think, Maria! Squire Hawkins has built himself a
thirty-thousand-dollar house, and I'll be blamed if he's got any decent
glass in the whole of it.
Maria--What's he got, Ephraim?
Farmer Railfence--Paper says stained glass from cellar to garret. Nice
glass, Maria, wouldn't have cost but little more than a lot of worthless
stained stuff.
--_Rochester Budget._
[Illustration: WEIGHT WILL TELL.]
ANCIENT MARINER--Yes, mister, it was just down there the _Mary Ann_
wrecked.
DOODLE--Aw' me boy; sit down and tell me about it.
A Truthful Statement.
Yank Yahoo (to jeweler from whom he has just purchased a rolled plate
engagement ring)--Naow, Mr. Jewelryman, what had I orter say when I put
this 'ere ring on Mandy's finger? Dew I say "I ring yer," "I rang yer,"
or "I rung yer?"
Jeweler (repressing a smile)--You should say "I wrong you."
--_Jeweler's Weekly._
A Controlling Feature.
Brown--The facial features plainly indicate character and disposition.
In selecting your wife were you governed by her chin?
Jones--No, but I have been ever since we married.
--_Omaha World._
A Jersey Idyl.
Night after night a witching sprite,
Outside among the roses,
Sings lullabies; but to my eyes
Her form she ne'er discloses.
She hides away the livelong day,
And keeps herself secluded;
To reach her side in vain I've tried;
My efforts she's eluded.
She seemed so coy; but to my joy,
At last, by chance, I met her.
The fair unknown is now my own,
And soon I'll not forget her.
Last evening she encouraged me--
My triumph is complete, oh;
I own 'twas rash--I made a mash
Of pretty, young Miss Quito.
--_Wasp._
A Point Usually Overlooked.
The youthful heir to a Walnut Hills ancestral establishment is of an
inquiring turn of mind and directs his attention especially to the
elucidation of religious problems. Last week he heard a Sunday school
address on "The Prodigal Son." Just what the small boy thought of the
address his father was curious to learn, and so he said to him that
night at supper: "My son, tell me which of the characters in the parable
of the prodigal son you sympathized with?" "Well, papa," replied the
cherub with perfect nonchalance, "I think I'd feel disposed to
sympathize most with the calf."
--_Cincinnati Commercial Gazette._
Still Alive.
He--Then this is your final answer, Miss Jones?
She--It is.
"You won't have me?"
"I am sorry, but I must decline."
"Then I will do something desperate."
"What will you do?"
"I will make away with myself."
"Oh! don't."
"I will. I'm determined to do it."
"Well, if you are determined, give a proof that you truly love me by
insuring your life in my favor for $20,000 or so before you commit the
desperate deed. I will get money from papa to pay the premium."
He left indignantly and at last accounts was still alive.
--_Sunday Mercury._
Devoted Admirers, Both.
He (of Boston)--I am so fond of Bacon! Aren't you?
She (of New Orleans)--Oh, yes; I don't think I could ever get tired of
bacon, especially with eggs!
--_Lowell Citizen._
A New Definition of a Bobtail Flush.
Mr. Gunsaulus was telling a group of the bibliomaniacs yesterday that
there was nothing so beautiful in a house as a bevy of bright children.
"I have a very lovely family," said he. "I hold, as the sinful world
would say, a bobtail flush."
"What's that?" asked Hon. Charles B. Farwell, the well-known collector
of Bibles and psalm books.
"We were talking about children," exclaimed Mr. Gunsaulus, "and I was
saying that in our family we had a bobtail flush--four girls and a boy."
"No," said Mr. Farwell, smiling sadly; "it is evident that you have had
no experience in the ways of the world, otherwise you would not make so
erroneous an application of terms. You do not hold a bobtail flush; you
hold four of a kind--four queens and a jack--a powerful good hand, sir,
and I should advise you to stand pat."
--_Chicago News._
She Wasn't Posted.
Grocer (who has lately joined the militia, practising in his
shop)--Right, left, right, left. Four paces to the rear; march! (Falls
down trapdoor into the cellar.)
Grocer's wife (anxiously)--Oh, Jim, are you hurt?
Grocer (savagely, but with dignity)--Go away, woman; what do you know
about war?
--_Liverpool Post._
[Illustration: MRS. O'FLAHERTY HAS THE BABY'S PICTURE TAKEN.]
Very Necessary.
Minister (to Johnny, who is digging worms for bait)--Johnny, don't you
know that it is wrong for you to do any work except work of necessity on
the Sabbath?
Johnny--Necessity? Ain't this necessity? How's a feller to do any
fishin' if he don't have bait?
--_Lawrence American._
A Righteous Judge.
Judge--You say the prisoner threw you out of the door. Had you provoked
him?
Plaintiff--Not at all. He advertised an unusually fine bargain sale of
laces, and I went in and asked him for the lowest figure on a pair of
shoe laces.
Judge--Prisoner is discharged. Mr. Clerk, swear out a warrant against
plaintiff and have him arrested for criminal assault.
--_Harper's Bazar._
[Illustration: "HEART BOWED DOWN!"]
A Family Peculiarity.
One of the officers of the Nypano, who is a great talker, received a
rebuke from his little three-year-old girl on Memorial Day that was
worse than he ever received from his older friends. He stayed at home
that day to amuse his little girl who inherited the "gift of gab." She
nearly wore him out asking questions until finally he said, "Amy, Amy,
Amy. Do keep still; it's nothing but talk, talk, talk all the time." The
little one didn't seem to care a bit, for she looked up innocently and
said, "Talk, talk, talk. Jess 'ike papa."
--_Cleveland Plain Dealer._
Taking One Too Literally.
Old Friend--Well, Browne! what are you sending to the exhibition this
year?
Our Artist (who really thinks he's done a good thing at last and longs
for a little praise)--Oh--same old rot, as you see!
Old Friend--Ah--well--anyhow it brings grist to the mill, I suppose.
--_Punch._
[Illustration: A HEAVY LOAD.]
LUSH--Gosh--hic--12 o'clock. Guess'll g'ome.
YOUNG AMERICA (in the background)--Say, boss, drop in a nickel and weigh
your load.
--_Judge._
Had No Regrets.
"Johnnie, my boy, wouldn't you have liked to have been George
Washington?"
"Naw."
"No? And why?"
"He never seed a baseball game in his life."
--_Nebraska State Journal._
About to Strike Dead Luck.
A small manufacturer, who had engaged in many local speculations, which
had always turned out well, had become a person of some wealth thereby.
He was rather past the middle age when he bethought himself of insuring
his life, and he had only just taken out his policy when he fell ill of
an acute disease, which was certain to end fatally in a very few days.
The doctor, half hesitatingly, revealed to him his hopeless state. "By
jingo!" he exclaimed, rousing up at once into the old energy, "I shall
do the insurance company! I was always a lucky fellow!"
--_N. Y. Press._
March Winds.
The devil makes the strong March wind
That lifts the skirts too high;
But angels send the whirling dust
That blows in the bad man's eye.
--_Life._
Reconciliation.
"Say, old man, why continue this coldness any longer? We haven't spoken
to each other for two years, and because of a trivial quarrel."
"There is no reason why we shouldn't be friends. Of course, you were the
aggressor in the quarrel, but I ask no apology."
"Oh, you're wrong. You started the row, you remember."
"No, I didn't. You killed my dog first----"
"Yes, but the hanged brute had been killing my chickens."
"It never killed one of them."
"It killed at least a dozen, and I'd shoot your other dog if it did
that."
"And I'd pound the top of your head off for doing it."
"You couldn't pound one side of it."
"You're a liar."
"You're another."
"Come into the alley here and we'll have it out, you hound."
"I'll go you, you blear-eyed monkey."
--_Lincoln Journal._
Confiding.
A Chicago gambler, whose first name was George, used to visit a
Chinaman's establishment and smoke opium almost daily. One day he rushed
into the place and said, excitedly: "Hip, loan me $10. Thanks. I'll come
in and pay you to-morrow noon, if I'm alive," and out he went with the
money. About three o'clock the next afternoon a friend of the gambler
dropped in on the Chinaman and said: "Hip, where is George to-day?" and
the confiding Celestial wiped his eyes with the corner of his blouse and
replied: "George, him dead."
--_Boston Globe._
A Nun-Like Girl and Her Mischievous Friend.
It was on the St. Jose train and two young ladies--one as serious and
good as a little nun, the other with a black eye with the devil's own
glint in it--sat behind the youngest minister in town. The quiet one
held in her hand a purple pansy so large that it attracted the attention
of the young minister. While he was still looking at it the train rushed
into a tunnel. The black-eyed young woman grabbed the pansy in the
darkness from her companion, and leaning over, dropped it into the lap
of the godly man. When the train reached daylight again the young
minister had turned, and with the pansy in his hand was glaring
reprovingly at the nun-like girl between whose fingers he had seen the
flower. Her face was blazing and her downcast eyes seemed to confess her
guilt. The whole car snickered and the malicious black-eyed girl read
her book unconsciously.
This is why the young minister preached on the iniquity of flirting,
yesterday.
--_San Francisco Examiner._
Very Serious.
"Husband, I've got a very serious thing to tell you."
"What is it, Laura?"
"Oh, it's dreadful, it's about Johnny."
"What has he been doing?"
"Well, he came into the house this morning, and what do you think--he
was chewing tobacco."
"Pshaw! Don't give me such a turn again, Laura. I didn't know but he had
been chewing gum."
--_N. Y. News._
A WOMAN AT BANK.
The Trouble she gives the Receiving Teller.
"I've got $10," says she, "and I want to open an account."
"With pleasure, madam. What is your name?"
"Simpkins."
"Christian name, please."
"Sophronisba."
"Any middle name?"
"Katherine."
"What is your age, please?"
"That's none of your business."
"Pardon me, madame, it is the rule of the bank to make these inquiries.
I cannot go on without these inquiries. It is as necessary for your own
protection as ours."
"Thirty-five, then."
"Are you married or single?"
"Now, look here, mister, you are impertinent. Do I look married? I'd
like to see the man who'd marry me if he dared."
"Shall I write married or single? Be as quick as you can, please."
"Single, then. And, as I said, if you think----"
"Residence?"
"Right here in the city."
"Quite so, but the street and number, please."
"That's nothing to do with it. I don't want you to call, and if you dare
to send a police to see----"
"What is the place and number?"
"Thirteen ---- place. But I never saw anything like this in all my
born----"
"Where were you born----"
"Same place, if you want to know."
"Have you an occupation?"
"Now see here. I suppose you want to know where I got this money. But I
didn't steal it, if that's any satisfaction to you. Of course I----"
"What did you say your occupation is?"
"I didn't say; you didn't give me a chance. I keep the best boarding
house in the town; meats three times day, and----"
"Please sign your name on this line."