Part 16

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!”

* * * * *