Part 15

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.”

“Bless your heart, Avery,” said his better half, “don’t let that trouble you. That wig will never fool anybody for one moment.”

* * * * *