Part 2

It was at a children’s party in West Kensington. The youngsters had just done more than justice to the luxurious spread provided by their hostess, and games were now the order of the evening.

“Now, children,” said she, “we will play the zoo, and each of you must represent a different animal.”

Then, going to a little girl, she asked:

“Now, Carrie, what are you going to be?”

“I’ll be an elephant.”

“And you, Reggie, what are you going to be?”

“I’m going to be a lion.”

“And what are you going to be, Hilda?”

“I’m going to be a tiger.”

Then, crossing to the other side of the room, the hostess, noticing a youngster sitting all alone, asked:

“And what are you going to be, Tommy?”

“P-please,” was the halting reply, “p-please--I’m going--to be sick.”

* * * * *

A man who had been convicted of stealing was brought before a certain “down East” judge, well known for his tender-heartedness, to be sentenced.

“Have you ever been sentenced to imprisonment?” asked the judge, not unkindly.

“Never!” exclaimed the prisoner, suddenly bursting into tears.

“Well, well, don’t cry, my man,” said his honor consolingly; “you’re going to be now.”

* * * * *

The inventor of a new feeding bottle for infants sent out the following among his directions for using:

“When the baby is done drinking it must be unscrewed and laid in a cool place under the hydrant. If the baby does not thrive on fresh milk, it should be boiled.”

* * * * *

A well-known New York clergyman was telling his Bible class the story of the Prodigal Son at a recent session, and wishing to emphasize the disagreeable attitude of the elder brother on that occasion, he laid especial stress on this phase of the parable. After describing the rejoicing of the household over the return of the wayward son, he spoke of one who, in the midst of the festivities, failed to share in the jubilant spirit of the occasion.

“Can anybody in the class,” he asked, “tell me who this was?”

A small boy, who had been listening sympathetically to the story, put up his hand.

“I know,” he said, beamingly; “it was the fatted calf.”

* * * * *

“I understand,” said the old-time friend, “that you are gettin’ right exclusive.”

“Well,” answered Mr. Cumrox, “that’s what mother an’ the girls call it.”

“What do you call it?”

“Plain ‘lonesome’.”

* * * * *

“Tommy,” said the hostess, “you appear to be in deep thought.”

“Yes’m,” replied Tommy; “ma told me somethin’ to say if you should ask me to have some cake or anything, an’ I bin here so long now I forgit what it was.”

* * * * *

A Boston minister once noticed a crowd of urchins clustered around a dog of doubtful pedigree.

“What are you doing, my little men?” he asked with fatherly interest.

“Swappin’ lies,” volunteered one of the boys. “The feller that tells the biggest one gets the purp.”

“Shocking!” exclaimed the minister. “Why, when I was your age I never even _thought_ of telling an untruth.”

“Youse win,” chorused the urchins. “The dog’s yours, mister.”

* * * * *

A Brooklyn Sunday-school teacher once had occasion to catechise a new pupil whose ignorance of his Testament would have been amusing had it not been so appalling. One Sunday she asked the little fellow how many commandments there were.

To her surprise, the lad answered, glibly enough: “Ten, ma’am.”

“And now, Sammy,” pleasantly asked the teacher, “what would the result be if you should break one of them?”

“Then there’d be nine!” triumphantly answered the youngster.

* * * * *

William J. Carr, of the State Department, had occasion to call at the house of a neighbor late at night. He rang the door-bell. After a long wait a head was poked out of a second-floor window.

“Who’s there?” asked a voice.

“Mr. Carr,” was the reply.

“Well,” said the voice as the window banged shut, “what do I care if you missed a car? Why don’t you walk, and not wake up people to tell them about it?”

* * * * *

A clever veterinary has a system all his own. When he received an overfed toy dog he would consign him to a disused brick oven, with a crust of bread, an onion and an old boot. When the dog began to gnaw the bread, the anxious mistress was informed that her darling was “doing nicely.” When it commenced operation on the onion, word was sent that the pet was “decidedly better”; but when the animal tackled the boot, my lady was gratified to hear that her precious pet was “ready to be removed.”

* * * * *

A lady while going downstairs to dinner had the misfortune to step slightly on the dress of a lady in front of her. The man on whose arm the former was leaning rudely said aloud so that the couple in front might hear, “Always getting in the way like Balaam’s ass!” Upon which the lady whose gown had been trodden on, turning round, replied with a sweet smile, “Pardon me, it was the angel who stood in the way and the ass which spoke.”

* * * * *

A number of years ago, when the former Second Assistant Secretary of State, Alvey A. Adee, was Third Assistant, an employee of the State Department was called to the ’phone.

“Will you kindly give me the name of the Third Assistant Secretary of State?” asked the voice at the other end of the wire.

“Adee.”

“A. D. what?”

“A. A. Adee.”

“Spell it, please.”

“A.”

“Yes.”

“A.”

“Yes.”

“A----”

“You go to the d----!” and the receiver was indignantly hung up.

* * * * *

Smith and Jones, talking about the Kaiser:

Jones--“They tell me that unfortunately he is very bellicose.”

Smith--“Dear me! You surprise me! I always understood he was rather tall and slim.”

* * * * *

“I will be your valentine,” said the young man.

A shadow passed across the fair face of the girl. “I was so in hopes that I would not get any comics this year,” she said.

* * * * *

One of the favorite stories of Mayor Collins of Boston was about a man who, accompanied by his little boy, had occasion to cross a lot where a good-sized goat was feeding.

The father was a Christian Scientist and always carried a copy of Mrs. Eddy’s works in his pocket. As they approached the goat the boy showed fear, whereat his father told him to think it not possible for the animal to harm them, but the boy, remembering a previous encounter with a goat, in which he came out second best, did not grow any braver.

“Papa, you’re a Christian Scientist, all right,” he said, “and so am I; but the goat doesn’t know it.”

* * * * *

Horace T. Eastman, the inventor of the locomotive pilot, said the other day:

“This morning I was sitting in a drug store waiting to get a prescription filled when a young Irishman entered.

“The Irishman pointed to a stack of green Castile soap and said:

“‘Oi want a lump o’ thot.’

“‘Very well, sir,’ said the clerk. ‘Will you have it scented or unscented?’

“‘Oi’ll take ut with me,’ said the Irishman.”

* * * * *

Robert Smith, brother of Sydney Smith, and an ex-Advocate-General, on one occasion engaged in an argument with a physician over the relative merits of their respective professions.

“I don’t say that all lawyers are crooks,” said the doctor, “but you’ll have to admit that your profession doesn’t make angels of men.”

“No,” retorted Smith; “you doctors certainly have the best of us there.”

* * * * *

Small chap--“Say, papa, what is the race problem?”

Papa--“Picking winners.”

* * * * *

The temperance society was to meet that afternoon. Mrs. Philpots dressed in a hurry and came panting downstairs. She was a short, plump woman.

“Addie, run up to my room and get my blue ribbon rosette, the temperance badge,” she directed her maid. “I have forgotten it. You will know it, Addie--blue ribbon and gold lettering.”

“Yas’m, I knows it right well.” Addie could not read, but she knew a blue ribbon with gold lettering when she saw it, and therefore had no trouble in finding it and fastening it properly on the dress of her mistress.

Mrs. Philpots was too busy greeting her friends or giving close attention to the speakers at the meeting to note that they smiled when they shook hands with her.

When she reached home, supper was served, so she went directly to the dining-room, where the other members of the family were seated.

“Gracious me, mother!” exclaimed her son. “That blue ribbon--have you been wearing that at the temperance meeting?”

A loud laugh went up on all sides.

“Why, what is it, Harry?” asked the good woman, clutching at the ribbon in surprise.

“Why, mother, dear, didn’t you know that was the ribbon I wore at the show?”

The gold lettering on the ribbon read:

Atlanta Poultry Show. First Prize. Bantam.

* * * * *

At a dinner party recently given the subject of regular hours and plain diet was discussed. Several had spoken when one of the guests remarked, “You may not believe it, but for ten years I rose on the stroke of six, half an hour later was at breakfast, at seven was at work, dined at one, had supper at six, and was in bed at 9.30. In all that time I ate the plainest food and did not have a day’s sickness.” The silence that followed was awful, but finally another guest asked, “Will you permit a question?” “Certainly,” was the reply; “what do you wish to know?” “Well, just out of curiosity,” said the other, “I would like to know what you were in prison for?”

* * * * *

Watch--“Eight bells, and all’s well!”

Mrs. Pohunk (feebly)--“I guess, Josiah, he hasn’t looked on this side of the boat lately or he’d know better.”

* * * * *

When the minister, who was a bachelor, had been helped to Mrs. Porter’s biscuits for the third time, he looked across the table at Rhoda, staring at him with round, wondering eyes.

“I don’t often have such a good supper as this, my dear,” he said, in his most propitiatory tone, and Rhoda’s face dimpled.

“We don’t, always,” she said, in her clear little voice. “I’m awful glad you came.”

* * * * *

The late Charles Matthews now and then failed, like some of the rest of us, in meeting his bills as promptly as the tradespeople concerned could desire.

On one occasion a brisk young tailor, named Berry, lately succeeded to his father’s business, sent in his account somewhat ahead of time.

Whereupon Matthews, with virtuous rage, seized his pen and wrote him the following note:

“You must be a goose--Berry, to send me your bill--Berry, before it is due--Berry.

“Your father, the elder--Berry, would have had more sense.

“You may look very black--Berry, and feel very blue--Berry, but I don’t care a straw--Berry, for you and your bill--Berry.”

* * * * *

A clergyman in a Lawrence church on a recent occasion discovered, after beginning the service, that he had forgotten his notes. As it was too late to send for them, he said to his audience, by way of apology, that this morning he should have to depend upon the Lord for what he might say, but in the afternoon he would come better prepared.

* * * * *

An American visiting London for the first time, goaded to desperation by the incessant necessity for tips, finally entered the wash-room of his hotel, only to be faced with a large sign which read: “Please tip the basin after using.” “I’m hanged if I will!” said the Yankee, turning on his heel, “I’ll go dirty first!”

* * * * *

Mother could not attend church one Sunday. “But what a shame that little Mabel should have to lose the day’s lesson, and she _such_ a bright child,” she sadly reflected. Accordingly, Mabel was sent alone. When she returned, in reply to her mother’s interrogation as to the subject of the text, she replied, “Oh, yes, mother, I know; it was _‘Don’t get scared: You’ll get the quilt.’_“ Questioning failed to throw any light on the matter. Some days later the mother met the pastor, who, in answer to her request for the subject of his last sermon, replied, “It was, madam, ‘Fear not: Ye shall have the Comforter.’”

* * * * *

Mark Twain in his lecturing days, reached a small Eastern town one afternoon and went before dinner to a barber’s to be shaved.

“You are a stranger in town, sir?” the barber asked.

“Yes, I am a stranger here,” was the reply.

“We’re having a good lecture here to-night, sir,” said the barber, “a ‘Mark Twain’ lecture. Are you going to it?”

“Yes, I think I will,” said Mr. Clemens.

“Have you got your ticket yet?” the barber asked.

“No, not yet,” said the other.

“Then, sir, you’ll have to stand.”

“Dear me!” Mr. Clemens exclaimed. “It seems as if I always do have to stand when I hear that man Twain lecture.”

* * * * *

During the visit of the Shah Nasr-ed-Din to England he dined one night with the then Prince of Wales, now King Edward. Among the courses was one of asparagus, a delicacy unknown to the Shah. He considered it for a time, discovered that the head alone was nice to eat, ate it accordingly and flung the rest of the stalk over his shoulder. The other diners were somewhat flabbergasted, but the tactful Prince, not wishing his Persian guest to feel that he had done anything ridiculous, promptly followed his example, throwing his own stalks over his shoulder. Naturally all the courtiers imitated him in turn, and the amazement of the royal servants was extreme to see the air suddenly full of flying asparagus stalks from one end of the lengthy room to the other.

* * * * *

On one of his frequent trips to the other side, the weather being more than ordinarily rough, and the passengers on deck but few, the late Bishop Potter saw a lady reclining on one of the benches, and the unearthly pallor on her face and the hapless languidity of her manner indicated that she had reached that state of collapse which marks the limit of sea-sickness. “Touched by this piteous spectacle and approaching the poor creature, in my most compassionate tone I asked, ‘Madam, can I be of any service to you?’

“She did not open her eyes, but I heard her murmur faintly: ‘Thank you, sir, but there is nothing you can do--nothing at all.’ ‘At least, madam,’ said I tenderly, ‘permit me to bring you a glass of water.’ She moved her head feebly and answered: ‘No, I thank you--nothing at all.’ ‘But your husband, madam,’ said I, ‘the gentleman lying there with his head in your lap--shall I not bring something to revive him?’ The lady again moved her head feebly, and again she murmured faintly between gasps: ‘Thank you, sir, but--he--is--not--my--husband. I--don’t--know--who he is!’”

* * * * *

“Well, Bobby, how do you like church?” asked his father, as they walked homeward from the sanctuary, to which Bobby had just paid his first visit.

“It’s fine,” ejaculated the young man. “How much did you get, father?”

“How much did I get? Why, what do you mean? How much what?” asked the parent, astonished at this evident irreverence.

“Why, don’t you remember when the funny old man passed the money around? I only got ten cents.”

* * * * *

One day a fussy fellow met Father Healy of Dublin by the seashore and thus accosted him: “Father Healy, I am undergoing a cure, and I take a tumbler of sea water three times a day. Now, I’ve had my full allowance to-day, but do you think I might have one, just one, tumbler more?”

Father Healy put his head on one side and looked at the ocean, lost in thought. “Well,” he said, at last, with a gravely judicial air, “I don’t think it would be missed.”

* * * * *

Wm. M. Evarts asked by a lady if he did not think that woman was the best judge of woman, he replied: “Not only the best judge, madam, but the best executioner.”

* * * * *

De Wolf Hopper was calling down a speaking-tube to the janitor of his apartment in New York. Mr. Hopper, unable to get the information he desired, finally blurted out, “Say, is there a blithering idiot at the end of this tube?” The reply came back with startling rapidity, “Not at this end, sir.”

* * * * *

Mrs. S.--“Surely, John, you haven’t brought anyone home to dinner?”

Mr. S.--“Sure I have. Haven’t you got anything for them?”

“Why no, you told me you’d bring home a couple of lobsters for dinner.”

“So I have, they’re in the parlor.”

* * * * *

One of his grandma’s maids of honor tells the following story of Prince Eddie when he was a few years younger:

Just after King Edward’s coronation, when he underwent an operation for appendicitis and was lying convalescent, he sent for his grandchildren.

The little ones trooped into the room, cautioned by their nurse that they must keep very quiet, and stood about their grandfather’s bed. He talked with them for a few minutes and they replied in awed whispers. Then when the nurse told them they must go, Prince Eddie said:

“But, grandpa, can’t we see the baby?”

* * * * *

Rossetti’s fondness for humorous stories and his interest in a particular soldier of fortune, or rather of misfortune, are shown in Hall Caine’s autobiography. Beginning life as the secretary of Ruskin, the man ultimately lived on his cleverness and audacity and made Rossetti in particular his conscious and delighted victim. Feeble as Rossetti was, the visits of this man did him good, and he laughed all the evening and told droll stories himself. One of the latter was of a man near to death to whom the clergyman came and said: “Dear friend, do you know who died to save you?” “Oh, meenister, meenister,” said the dying man, “is this a time for conundrums?”

* * * * *

It is interesting to recall, apropos of the recent Milton celebration, an anecdote of Milton that was told in an old family letter written in 1762, recently quoted in the columns of the London “Spectator”:

“Possibly you may not have heard this anecdote concerning him. John Vallack--who, I believe, died after you came to Tavistock--told me it, and he lived in London in 1696. Milton, as you know, was blind. Charles the Second had the curiosity to see him, and said: ‘God hath punished you for your malice, etc., to my father by taking away your eyesight.’

“‘Aye,’ says Milton, ‘but before I lost my eyes he lost his head.’”

* * * * *

In writing a sketch of Washington a pupil ended her essay by saying: “Washington married a famous belle, Martha Custis, and in due time became the father of his country.”

* * * * *

A certain regiment was on the march from Philadelphia to Gettysburg and the companies were ordered to move with a few minutes’ interval between them and to keep each other in sight, the band and drums leading.

The band soon got a long way ahead, and on reaching a bend, halted for a few minutes’ rest. Presently up galloped a mounted officer in hot haste and shouted for the band sergeant.

“What do you mean,” he said, “by getting out of sight of the leading company?”

“We were not out of sight, sir,” answered the sergeant.

“What do you mean by telling me that!” exclaimed the officer in a rage. “You were out of sight, I saw you myself.”

* * * * *

Several ladies sat after a card party at the University Club a few mornings ago, discussing the virtues of their husbands. “Mr. Bingleton,” said one of them, referring to her life partner, “never drinks and never swears--indeed, he has no bad habits.” “Does he ever smoke?” some one asked. “Yes; he likes a cigar just after he has eaten a good meal. But, I suppose, on an average, he doesn’t smoke more than once a month.”

* * * * *

Ian Maclaren was talking to a group of literary beginners in New York. “Begin your stories well,” he said emphatically. “There’s nothing like a good beginning. Indeed, it’s half the battle.” Then with a smile this excellent beginner of stories added: “Always bear in mind the case of the young man who, desiring to marry, secured a favorable hearing from his sweetheart’s irascible father by opening the interview with the words: ‘I know a way, sir, whereby you can save money.’”

* * * * *

Benevolent gentleman--“My little boy, have you no better way to spend this beautiful afternoon than by standing in front of the gate, idling away your time?”

Boy--“I ain’t idling away my time. There’s a chump inside with my sister, who is paying me ten cents an hour to watch for pa.”

* * * * *

That famous Scotch physician, Dr. George Fordyce, was unfortunately somewhat given to drink, and though he never was known to be dead drunk, yet he was often in a state which rendered him unfit for professional duties. One night when he was in such a condition, he was suddenly sent for to attend a lady of title who was very ill. He went, sat down, listened to her story, and felt her pulse. He found he was not up to his work. He lost his wits and in a moment of forgetfulness exclaimed, “Drunk, by Jove!” Still he managed to write out a mild prescription. Early next morning he received a message from the noble patient to call on her at once. Dr. Fordyce felt very uncomfortable. The lady evidently intended to upbraid him either for giving an improper prescription or for his disgraceful condition, but to his surprise and relief she thanked him for his prompt compliance with her pressing summons, and then confessed that he had rightly diagnosed her case. That unfortunately she occasionally indulged too freely in drink, but that she hoped he would preserve inviolable secrecy as to the condition in which he had found her. Fordyce listened to her as grave as a judge, then said:

“Madam, you may depend on me. I shall be as silent as the grave.”

* * * * *

A friend of Dean Swift one day sent him a turbot as a present by a servant lad who had frequently been on similar errands but had never received anything from the dean for his trouble. Having gained admission he opened the study door, and putting down the fish on the floor cried out rudely, “Master has sent you a turbot.” “Young man,” said the dean rising from the chair, “is that the way you deliver a message? Let me teach you better manners. Sit down in my chair; we will change places, and I will show you how to behave in future.” The boy sat down, and the dean going out came up to the door, and making a low bow said, “Sir, master presents his kind compliments, hopes you are well, and requests your acceptance of a small present.” “Does he?” replied the boy. “Return him my best thanks, and there’s half-a-crown for yourself.” The dean thus caught in his own trap laughed heartily and gave the boy a crown for his ready wit.

* * * * *

A spunky little mule was trying to throw his darky rider and in kicking about caught his hoof in a stirrup, upon which the darky cried out in frightened tones, “Say, if you’se gwine to git on, I’se gwine to git off.”

* * * * *

“I ought not to be surprised by anything at my time of life,” said a well-known minister, “but one of my flock did manage to take my breath away. I was preaching about the Father’s tender wisdom in caring for us all,” he said. “I illustrated by saying that the Father knows which of us grows best in sunlight and which of us must have shade. ‘You know you plant roses in the sunshine,’ I said, ‘and heliotrope and geraniums; but if you want your fuchsias to grow they must be kept in a shady nook.’ After the sermon, which I hoped would be a comforting one, a woman came up to me, her face glowing with pleasure that was evidently deep and true. ‘O, Dr. ----, I am so grateful for that sermon,’ she said, clasping my hand and shaking it warmly. My heart glowed for a moment, while I wondered what tender place in her heart and life I had touched. Only for a moment, though. ‘Yes,’ she went on, fervently, ‘I never knew before what was the matter with my fuchsias.’”