John D. Rockefeller, Jr., once asked a clergyman to give him an appropriate Bible verse on which to base an address which he was to make at the latter’s church.
“I was thinking,” said young Rockefeller, “that I would take the verse from the Twenty-third Psalm: ‘The Lord is my shepherd.’ Would that seem appropriate?”
“Quite,” said the clergyman; “but do you really want an appropriate verse?”
“I certainly do,” was the reply.
“Well, then,” said the clergyman, with a twinkle in his eye, “I would select the verse in the same Psalm: ‘Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.'”
THEATER
“Say, old man,” chattered the press-agent, who had cornered a producer of motion-picture plays, “I’ve got a grand idea for a film-drama. Listen to the impromptu scenario: Scene one, exterior of a Broadway theater, with the ticket-speculators getting the coin in handfuls, and–”
“You’re out!” interrupted the producer. “Why, don’t you know that the law don’t permit us to show an actual robbery on the screen?”–_P.H. Carey_.
“Why don’t women have the same sense of humor that men possess?” asked Mr. Torkins.
“Perhaps,” answered his wife gently, “it’s because we don’t attend the same theaters.”
It appears that at the rehearsal of a play, a wonderful climax had been reached, which was to be heightened by the effective use of the usual thunder and lightning. The stage-carpenter was given the order. The words were spoken, and instantly a noise which resembled a succession of pistol-shots was heard off the wings.
“What on earth are you doing, man?” shouted the manager, rushing behind the scenes. “Do you call that thunder? It’s not a bit like it.”
“Awfully sorry, sir,” responded the carpenter; “but the fact is, sir, I couldn’t hear you because of the storm. That was real thunder, sir!”
Everybody has his own theater, in which he is manager, actor, prompter, playwright, sceneshifter, boxkeeper, doorkeeper, all in one, and audience into the bargain.–_J.C. and A.W. Hare_.
THIEVES
GEORGIA LAWYER (to colored prisoner)–“Well, Ras, so you want me to defend you. Have you any money?”
RASTUS–“No; but I’se got a mule, and a few chickens, and a hog or two.”
LAWYER–“Those will do very nicely. Now, let’s see; what do they accuse you of stealing?”
RASTUS–“Oh, a mule, and a few chickens, and a hog or two.”
At a dinner given by the prime minister of a little kingdom on the Balkan Peninsula, a distinguished diplomat complained to his host that the minister of justice, who had been sitting on his left, had stolen his watch.
“Ah, he shouldn’t have done that,” said the prime minister, in tones of annoyance. “I will get it back for you.”
Sure enough, toward the end of the evening the watch was returned to its owner.
“And what did he say?” asked the diplomat.
“Sh-h,” cautioned the host, glancing anxiously about him. “He doesn’t know that I have got it back.”
Senator “Bob” Taylor, of Tennessee, tells a story of how, when he was “Fiddling Bob,” governor of that state, an old negress came to him and said:
“Massa Gov’na, we’s mighty po’ this winter, and Ah wish you would pardon mah old man. He is a fiddler same as you is, and he’s in the pen’tentry.”
“What was he put in for?” asked the governor.
“Stead of workin’ fo’ it that good-fo’-nothin’ nigger done stole some bacon.”
“If he is good for nothing what do you want him back for?”
“Well, yo’ see, we’s all out of bacon ag’in,” said the old negress innocently.
“Did ye see as Jim got ten years’ penal for stealing that ‘oss?”
“Serve ‘im right, too. Why didn’t ‘e buy the ‘oss and not pay for ‘im like any other gentleman?”
Some time ago a crowd of Bowery sports went over to Philadelphia to see a prize fight. One “wise guy,” who, among other things, is something of a pickpocket, was so sure of the result that he was willing to bet on it.
“The Kid’s goin’ t’ win. It’s a pipe,” he told a friend.
The friend expressed doubts.
“Sure he’ll win,” the pickpocket persisted. “I’ll bet you a gold watch he wins.”
Still the friend doubted.
“Why,” exclaimed the pickpocket, “I’m willin’ to bet you a good gold watch he wins! Y’ know what I’ll do? Come through the train with me now, an’ y’ can pick out any old watch y’ like.”
In vain we call old notions fudge
And bend our conscience to our dealing.
The Ten Commandments will not budge
And stealing will continue stealing.
–_Motto of American Copyright League_.
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
–_Shakespeare_.
_See also_ Chicken stealing; Lawyers; Lost and found.
THIN PEOPLE
There was an old fellow named Green, Who grew so abnormally lean,
And flat, and compressed,
That his back touched his chest,
And sideways he couldn’t be seen.
There was a young lady of Lynn,
Who was so excessively thin,
That when she essayed
To drink lemonade
She slipped through the straw and fell in.
THRIFT
It was said of a certain village “innocent” or fool in Scotland that if he were offered a silver sixpence or copper penny he would invariably choose the larger coin of smaller value. One day a stranger asked him:
“Why do you always take the penny? Don’t you know the difference in value?
“Aye,” answered the fool, “I ken the difference in value. But if I took the saxpence they would never try me again.”
The Mrs. never misses
Any bargain sale,
For the female of the species
Is more thrifty than the male.
MCANDREWS (the chemist, at two A.M.)–“Two penn’orth of bicarbonate of soda for indigestion at this time o’ night, when a glass of hot water does just as well!”
SANDY (hastily)–“Well, well! Thanks for the advice. I’ll not bother ye, after all. Gude nicht!”
The foreman and his crew of bridgemen were striving hard to make an impression on the select board provided by Mrs. Rooney at her Arkansas eating establishment.
“The old man sure made a funny deal down at Piney yesterday,” observed the foreman, with a wink at the man to his right.
“What’d he do?” asked the new man at the other end of the table.
“Well, a year or so ago there used to be a water tank there, but they took down the tub and brought it up to Cabin Creek. The well went dry and they covered it over. It was four or five feet round, ninety feet deep, and plumb in the right of way. Didn’t know what to do with it until along comes an old lollypop yesterday and gives the Old Man five dollars for it.”
“Five dollars for what?” asked the new man.
“Well,” continued the foreman, ignoring the interruption, “that old lollypop borrowed two jacks from the trackmen and jacked her up out of there and carried her home on wheels.’
“What’d he do with it?” persisted the new man.
“Say that old lollypop must’ve been a Yank. Nobody else could have figured it out. The ground on his place is hard and he needed some more fence. So he calc’lated ‘twould be easier and cheaper to saw that old well up into post-holes than ‘twould be to dig ’em.”
A certain workman, notorious for his sponging proclivities, met a friend one morning, and opened the conversation by saying:
“Can ye len’ us a match, John?”
John having supplied him with the match, the first speaker began to feel his pockets ostentatiously, and then remarked dolefully, “Man, I seem to have left my tobacco pouch at hame.”
John, however, was equal to the occasion, and holding out his hand, remarked:
“Aweel, ye’ll no be needin’ that match then.”
A Highlander was summoned to the bedside of his dying father. When he arrived the old man was fast nearing his end. For a while he remained unconscious of his son’s presence. Then at last the old man’s eyes opened, and he began to murmur. The son bent eagerly to listen.
“Dugald,” whispered the parent, “Luckie Simpson owes me five shilling.”
“Ay, man, ay,” said the son eagerly.
“An” Dugal More owes me seven shillins.”
“Ay,” assented the son.
“An’ Hamish McCraw owes me ten shillins.”
“Sensible tae the last,” muttered the delighted heir. “Sensible tae the last.”
Once more the voice from the bed took up the tale.
“An’, Dugald, I owe Calum Beg two pounds.”
Dugald shook his head sadly.
“Wanderin’ again, wanderin’ again,” he sighed. “It’s a peety.”
The canny Scot wandered into the pharmacy.
“I’m wanting threepenn’orth o’ laudanum,” he announced.
“What for?” asked the chemist suspiciously.
“For twopence,” responded the Scot at once.
A Scotsman wishing to know his fate at once, telegraphed a proposal of marriage to the lady of his choice. After spending the entire day at the telegraph office he was finally rewarded late in the evening by an affirmative answer.
“If I were you,” suggested the operator when he delivered the message, “I’d think twice before I’d marry a girl that kept me waiting all day for my answer.”
“Na, na,” retorted the Scot. “The lass who waits for the night rates is the lass for me.”
“Well, yes,” said Old Uncle Lazzenberry, who was intimately acquainted with most of the happenstances of the village, “Almira Stang has broken off her engagement with Charles Henry Tootwiler. They’d be goin’ together for about eight years, durin’ which time she had been inculcatin’ into him, as you might call it, the beauties of economy; but when she discovered, just lately, that he had learnt his lesson so well that he had saved up two hundred and seventeen pairs of socks for her to darn immediately after the wedding, she ‘peared to conclude that he had taken her advice a little too literally, and broke off the match.”–_Puck_.
They sat each at an extreme end of the horsehair sofa. They had been courting now for something like two years, but the wide gap between had always been respectfully preserved.
“A penny for your thochts, Sandy,” murmured Maggie, after a silence of an hour and a half.
“Weel,” replied Sandy slowly, with surprising boldness, “tae tell ye the truth, I was jist thinkin’ how fine it wad be if ye were tae gie me a wee bit kissie.”
“I’ve nae objection,” simpered Maggie, slithering over, and kissed him plumply on the tip of his left ear.
Sandy relapsed into a brown study once more, and the clock ticked twenty-seven minutes.
“An’ what are ye thinkin’ about noo–anither, eh?”
“Nae, nae, lassie; it’s mair serious the noo.”
“Is it, laddie?” asked Maggie softly. Her heart was going pit-a-pat with expectation. “An’ what micht it be?”
“I was jist thinkin’,” answered Sandy, “that it was aboot time ye were paying me that penny!”
The coward calls himself cautious, the miser thrifty.–_Syrus_.
There are but two ways of paying debt: increase of industry in raising income, increase of thrift in laying out.–_Carlyle_.
_See also_ Economy; Saving.
TIDES
A Kansan sat on the beach at Atlantic City watching a fair and very fat bather disporting herself in the surf. He knew nothing of tides, and he did not notice that each succeeding wave came a little closer to his feet. At last an extra big wave washed over his shoe tops.
“Hey, there!” he yelled at the fair, fat bather. “Quit yer jumpin’ up and down! D’ye want to drown me?”
At a recent Confederate reunion in Charleston, S.C., two Kentuckians were viewing the Atlantic Ocean for the first time.
“Say, cap’n,” said one of them, “what ought I to carry home to the children for a souvenir?”
“Why, colonel, it strikes me that some of this here ocean water would be right interestin’.”
“Just the thing!” exclaimed the colonel delightedly. From a rear pocket he produced a flask, and, with the aid of the captain, soon emptied it. Then, picking his way down to the water’s edge, he filled it to the neck and replaced the cork.
“Hi, there! Don’t do that!” cried the captain in great alarm. “Pour out about a third of that water. If you don’t, when the tide rises she’ll bust sure.”
Nae man can tether time or tide.–_Burns_.
TIME
Mrs. Hooligan was suffering from the common complaint of having more to do than there was time to do it in. She looked up at the clock and then slapped the iron she had lifted from the stove back on the lid with a clatter. “Talk about toime and toide waitin’ fer no man,” she muttered as she hurried into the pantry; “there’s toimes they waits, an’ toimes they don’t. Yistherday at this blessed minit ’twas but tin o’clock an’ to-day it’s a quarther to twilve.”
MRS. MURPHY–“Oi hear yer brother-in-law, Pat Keegan, is pretty bad off.”
MRS. CASEY–“Shure, he’s good for a year yit.”
MRS. MURPHY–“As long as thot?”
MRS. CASEY–“Yis; he’s had four different doctors, and each one av thim give him three months to live.”–_Puck_.
A long-winded attorney was arguing a technical case before one of the judges of the superior court in a western state. He had rambled on in such a desultory way that it became very difficult to follow his line of thought, and the judge had just yawned very suggestively.
With just a trace of sarcasm in his voice, the tiresome attorney ventured to observe: “I sincerely trust that I am not unduly trespassing on the time of this court.”
“My friend,” returned his honor, “there is a considerable difference between trespassing on time and encroaching upon eternity.”–_Edwin Tarrisse_.
A traveler, finding that he had a couple of hours in Dublin, called a cab and told the driver to drive him around for two hours. At first all went well, but soon the driver began to whip up his horse so that they narrowly escaped several collisions.
“What’s the matter?” demanded the passenger. “Why are you driving so recklessly? I’m in no hurry.”
“Ah, g’wan wid yez,” retorted the cabby. “D’ye think thot I’m goin’ to put in me whole day drivin’ ye around for two hours? Gitap!”
Frank comes into the house in a sorry plight.
“Mercy on us!” exclaims his father. “How you look! You are soaked.”
“Please, papa, I fell into the canal.”
“What! with your new trousers on?”
“Yes, papa, I didn’t have time to take them off.”
A well-known Bishop, while visiting at a bride’s new home for the first time, was awakened quite early by the soft tones of a soprano voice singing “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” As the Bishop lay in bed he meditated upon the piety which his young hostess must possess to enable her to begin her day’s work in such a beautiful frame of mind.
At breakfast he spoke to her about it, and told her how pleased he was.
“Oh,” she replied, “that’s the hymn I boil the eggs by; three verses for soft and five for hard.”
There was a young woman named Sue,
Who wanted to catch the 2:02;
Said the trainman, “Don’t hurry
Or flurry or worry;
It’s a minute or two to 2:02.”
FATHER–“Mildred, if you disobey again I will surely spank you.”
On father’s return home that evening, Mildred once more acknowledged that she had again disobeyed.
FATHER (firmly)–“You are going to be spanked. You may choose your own time. When shall it be?”
MILDRED (five years old, thoughtfully)–“Yesterday.”
A northerner passing a rundown looking place in the South, stopped to chat with the farmer. He noticed the hogs running wild and explained that in the North the farmers fattened their hogs much faster by shutting them in and feeding them well.
“Hell!” replied the southerner, “What’s time to a hog.”
Dost thou love life? Then waste not time; for time is the stuff that life is made of.–_Benjamin Franklin_.
Time fleeth on,
Youth soon is gone,
Naught earthly may abide;
Life seemeth fast,
But may not last
It runs as runs the tide.
–_Leland_.
_See also_ Scientific management.
TIPS
American travelers in Europe experience a great deal of trouble from the omnipresent need of tipping those from whom they expect any service, however slight. They are very apt to carry it much too far, or else attempt to resist it altogether. There is a story told of a wealthy and ostentatious American in a Parisian restaurant. As the waiter placed the order before him he said in a loud voice:
“Waiter, what is largest tip you ever received?”
“One thousand francs, monsieur.”
“_Eh bien_! But I will give you two thousand,” answered the upholder of American honor; and then in a moment he added: “May I ask who gave you the thousand francs?”
“It was yourself, monsieur,” said the obsequious waiter.
Of quite an opposite mode of thought was another American visiting London for the first time. Goaded to desperation by the incessant necessity for tips, he finally entered the washroom 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!”
Grant Alien relates that he was sitting one day under the shade of the Sphinx, turning for some petty point of detail to his Baedeker.
A sheik looked at him sadly, and shook his head. “Murray good,” he said in a solemn voice of warning; “Baedeker no good. What for you see Baedeker?”
“No, no; Baedeker is best,” answered Mr. Alien. “Why do you object to Baedeker?”
The shick crossed his hands, and looked down at him with the pitying eyes of Islam. “Baedeker bad book,” he repeated; “Murray very, very good. Murray say, ‘Give the sheik half a crown’; Baedeker say, ‘Give the sheik a shilling.'”
“What do you consider the most important event in the history of Paris?”
“Well,” replied the tourist, who had grown weary of distributing tips, “so far as financial prosperity is concerned, I should say the discovery of America was the making of this town.”
In telling this one, Miss Glaser always states that she does not want it understood that she considers the Scotch people at all stingy; but they are a very careful and thrifty race.
An intimate friend of her’s was very anxious to have a well known Scotchman meet Miss Glaser, and gave her a letter of introduction to him. Miss Glaser, wishing to show him all the attention possible, invited him to a dinner which she was giving in London and after rather an elaborate repast the bill was paid, the waiter returning five shillings. She let it lie, intending, of course, to give it to the waiter. The Scotchman glanced at the money very frequently, and finally he said, his natural thrift getting the best of him:
“Are you going to give all that to the waiter?”
In a inimitable way, Miss Glaser quietly replied:
“No, take some.”
“A tip is a small sum of money you give to somebody because you’re afraid he won’t like not being paid for something you haven’t asked him to do.”–_The Bailie, Glasgow_.
TITLES OF HONOR AND NOBILITY
An English lord was traveling through this country with a small party of friends. At a farmhouse the owner invited the party in to supper. The good housewife, while preparing the table, discovering she was entertaining nobility, was nearly overcome with surprise and elation.
While seated at the table scarcely a moment’s peace did she grant her distinguished guest in her endeavor to serve and please him. It was “My Lord, will you have some of this?” and “My Lord, do try that,” “Take a piece of this, my Lord,” until the meal was nearly finished.
The little four-year-old son of the family, heretofore unnoticed, during a moment of supreme quiet saw his lordship trying to reach the pickle-dish, which was just out of his reach, and turning to his mother said:
“Say, Ma, God wants a pickle.”
Dean Stanley was once visiting a friend who gave one of the pages strict orders that in the morning he was to go and knock at the Dean’s door, and when the Dean inquired who was knocking he was to say: “The boy, my Lord.” According to directions he knocked and the Dean asked: “Who is there?” Embarrassed by the voice of the great man the page answered: “The Lord, my boy.”
“How did he get his title of colonel?”
“He got it to distinguish him from his wife’s first husband, who was a captain, and his wife’s second husband, who was a major.”
For titles do not reflect honor on men, but rather men on their titles.–_Machiavelli_.
I hope I shall always possess firmness and virtue enough to maintain what I consider the most enviable of all titles, the character of an “Honest Man.”–_George Washington_.
TOASTS
_See_ Drinking; Good fellowship; Woman.
TOBACCO
“Tobaccy wanst saved my life,” said Paddy Blake, an inveterate smoker. “How was that?” inquired his companion. “Ye see, I was diggin’ a well, and came up for a good smoke, and while I was up the well caved in.”
_See also_ Smoking.
TOURISTS
_See_ Liars; Travelers.
TRADE UNIONS
CHAIRMAN OF THE COMMITTEE–“Is this the place where you are happy all the time?”
ST. PETER (proudly)–“It is, sir.”
“Well, I represent the union, and if we come in we can only agree to be happy eight hours a day.”
TRAMPS
LADY–“Can’t you find work?”
TRAMP–“Yessum; but everyone wants a reference from my last employer.”
LADY–“And can’t you get one?”
TRAMP–“No, mum. Yer see, he’s been dead twenty-eight years.”
TRANSMUTATION
Fred Stone, of Montgomery and Stone fame, and Eugene Wood, whose stories and essays are well known, met on Broadway recently. They stopped for a moment to exchange a few cheerful views, when a woman in a particularly noticeable sheath-gown passed. Simultaneously, Wood turned to Stone; Stone turned to Wood; then both turned to rubber.
TRAVELERS
An American tourist, who was stopping in Tokio had visited every point of interest and had seen everything to be seen except a Shinto funeral. Finally she appealed to the Japanese clerk of the hotel, asking him to instruct her guide to take her to one. The clerk was politeness itself. He bowed gravely and replied: “I am very sorry, Madam, but this is not the season for funerals.”
A gentleman whose travel-talks are known throughout the world tells the following on himself:
“I was booked for a lecture one night at a little place in Scotland four miles from a railway station.
“The ‘chairman’ of the occasion, after introducing me as ‘the mon wha’s coom here tae broaden oor intellects,’ said that he felt a wee bit of prayer would not be out of place.
“‘O Lord,’ he continued, ‘put it intae the heart of this mon tae speak the truth, the hale truth, and naething but the truth, and gie us grace tae understan’ him.’
“Then, with a glance at me, the chairman said, ‘I’ve been a traveler meself!'”–_Fenimore Marlin_.
Two young Americans touring Italy for the first time stopped off one night at Pisa, where they fell in with a convivial party at a cafe. Going hilariously home one pushed the other against a building and held him there.
“Great heavens!” cried the man next the wall, suddenly glancing up at the structure above him. “See what we’re doing!” Both roisterers fled.
They left town on an early morning train, not thinking it safe to stay over and see the famous leaning tower.
Mr. Hiram Jones had just returned from a personally conducted tour of Europe.
“I suppose,” commented a friend, “that when you were in England you did as the English do and dropped your H’s.”
“No,” moodily responded the returned traveller; “I didn’t. I did as the Americans do. I dropped my V’s and X’s.”
Then he slowly meandered down to the bank to see if he couldn’t get the mortgage extended.–_W. Hanny_.
A number of tourists were recently looking down the crater of Vesuvius. An American gentleman said to his companion.
“That looks a good deal like the infernal regions.”
An English lady, overhearing the remark, said to another:
“Good gracious! How these Americans do travel.”
An American tourist hailing from the west was out sight-seeing in London. They took him aboard the old battle-ship _Victory_, which was Lord Nelson’s flagship in several of his most famous naval triumphs. An English sailor escorted the American over the vessel, and coming to a raised brass tablet on the deck he said, as he reverently removed his hat:
“‘Ere, sir, is the spot where Lord Nelson fell.”
“Oh, is it?” replied the American, blankly. “Well, that ain’t nothin’. I nearly tripped on the blame thing myself.”
On one of the famous scenic routes of the west there is a brakeman who has lost the forefinger of his right hand.
His present assignment as rear-end brakeman on a passenger train places him in the observation car, where he is the target for an almost unceasing fusillade of questions from tourists who insist upon having the name, and, if possible, the history, of all the mountain canons and points of interest along the route.
One especially enthusiastic lady tourist had kept up her Gattling fire of questions until she had thoroughly mastered the geography of the country. Then she ventured to ask the brakeman how he had lost his finger:
“Cut off in making a coupling between cars, I suppose?”
“No, madam; I wore that finger off pointing out scenery to tourists.”
Know most of the rooms of thy native country before thou goest over the threshold thereof.–_Fuller_.
When I was at home, I was in a better place; but travelers must be content.–_Shakespeare_.
As the Spanish proverb says, “He who would bring home the wealth of the Indies must carry the wealth of the Indies with him.” So it is in traveling: a man must carry knowledge with him, if he would bring home knowledge.–_Samuel Johnson_.
TREASON
It was during the Parnell agitation in Ireland that an anti-Parnellite, criticising the ways of tenants in treating absentee landlords, exclaimed to Archbishop Ryan of Philadelphia: “Why, it looks very much like treason.”
Instantly came the answer in the Archbishop’s best brogue: “Sure, treason is reason when there’s an absent ‘t’.”
Treason doth never prosper: what’s the reason? Why if it prosper, none dare call it treason.
TREES
CURIOUS CHARLEY–“Do nuts grow on trees, father?”
FATHER–“They do, my son.”
CURIOUS CHARLEY–“Then what tree does the doughnut grow on?”
FATHER–“The pantry, my son.”
TRIGONOMETRY
A prisoner was brought before a police magistrate. He looked around and discovered that his clerk was absent. “Here, officer,” he said, “what’s this man charged with?”
“Bigotry, your Honor,” replied the policeman. “He’s got three wives.”
The magistrate looked at the officer as though astounded at such ignorance. “Why, officer,” he said, “that’s not bigotry–that’s trigonometry.”
TROUBLE
“What is the trouble, wifey?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, there is. What are you crying about, something that happened at home or something that happened in a novel?”
It was married men’s night at the revival meeting.
“Let all you husbands who have troubles on your minds stand up!” shouted the preacher at the height of his spasm.
Instantly every man in the church arose except one.
“Ah!” exclaimed the preacher, peering out at this lone individual, who occupied a chair near the door. “You are one in a million.”
“It ain’t that,” piped back this one helplessly as the rest of the congregation gazed suspiciously at him: “I can’t get up–I’m paralyzed!”
JUDGE–“Your innocence is proved. You are acquitted.”
PRISONER (to the jury)–“Very sorry, indeed, gentlemen, to have given you all this trouble for nothing.”
A friend of mine, returning to his home in Virginia after several years’ absence, met one of the old negroes, a former servant of his family. “Uncle Moses,” he said, “I hear you got married.”
“Yes, Marse Tom, I is, and I’s having a moughty troublesome time, Marse Tom, moughty troublesome.”
“What’s the trouble?” said my friend.
“Why, dat yaller woman, Marse Tom. She all de time axin’ me fer money. She don’t give me no peace.”
“How long have you been married, Uncle Moses?”
“Nigh on ter two years, come dis spring.”
“And how much money have you given her?”
“Well, I ain’t done gin her none yit.”–_Sue M.M. Halsey_.
If you want to forget all your other troubles, wear tight shoes.
Never bear more than one kind of trouble at a time. Some people bear three–all they have had, all they have now, and all they expect to have.–_Edward Everett Hale_.
TRUSTS
A trust is known by the companies it keeps.–_Ellis O. Jones_.
TOMPKINS–“Ventley has received a million dollars for his patent egg dating machine. You know it is absolutely interference-proof, and dates correctly and indelibly as the egg is being laid.”
DEWLEY–“Is the machine on the market yet?”
TOMKINS–“Oh, my no! and it won’t be on the market. The patent was bought by the Cold Storage Trust.”
TRUTH
There was a young lady named Ruth,
Who had a great passion for truth. She said she would die
Before she would lie,
And she died in the prime of her youth.
Women do not really like to deceive their husbands, but they are too tender-hearted to make them unhappy by telling them the truth.
Nature … has buried truth deep in the bottom of the sea.–_Democritus_.
“Tis strange–but true; for truth is always strange, Stranger than fiction.”–_Byron_.
TURKEYS
“Ah,” says the Christmas guest. “How I wish I could sit down to a Christmas dinner with one of those turkeys we raised on the farm, when I was a boy, as the central figure!”
“Well,” says the host, “you never can tell. This may be one of them.”–_Life_.
TUTORS
A tutor who tooted a flute
Tried to teach two young tooters to toot. Said the two to the tutor,
“Is it harder to toot, or
To tutor two tutors to toot?”
–_Carolyn Wells_.
TWINS
“Faith, Mrs. O’Hara, how d’ ye till thim twins aparrt?”
“Aw, ‘t is aisy–I sticks me finger in Dinnis’s mouth, an’ if he bites I know it’s Moike.”–_Harvard Lampoon_.
UMBRELLAS
A man left his umbrella in the stand in a hotel recently, with a card bearing the following inscription attached to it: “This umbrella belongs to a man who can deal a blow of 250 pounds weight. I shall be back in ten minutes.” On returning to seek his property he found in its place a card thus inscribed: “This card was left here by a man who can run twelve miles an hour. I shall not be back.”
A reputable citizen had left four umbrellas to be repaired. At noon he had luncheon in a restaurant, and as he was departing he absent-mindedly started to take an umbrella from a hook near his hat.
“That’s mine, sir,” said a woman at the next table.
He apologized and went out. When he was going home in a street car with his four repaired umbrellas, the woman he had seen in the restaurant got in. She glanced from him to his umbrellas and said:
“I see you had a good day.”
“That’s a swell umbrella you carry.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Did you come by it honestly?”
“I haven’t quite figured out. It started to rain the other day and I stepped into a doorway to wait till it stopped. Then I saw a young fellow coming along with a nice large umbrella, and I thought if he was going as far as my house I would beg the shelter of his timbershoot. So I stepped out and asked: ‘Where are you going with that umbrella, young fellow?’ and he dropped the umbrella and ran.”
One day a man exhibited a handsome umbrella. “It’s wonderful how I make things last,” he exclaimed. “Look at this umbrella, now. I bought it eleven years ago. Since then I had it recovered twice. I had new ribs put in in 1910, and last month I exchanged it for a new one in a restaurant. And here it is–as good as new.”
VALUE
“The trouble with father,” said the gilded youth, “is that he has no idea of the value of money.”
“You don’t mean to imply that he is a spendthrift?”
“Not at all. But he puts his money away and doesn’t appear to have any appreciation of all the things he might buy with it.”
VANITY
MCGORRY–“I’ll buy yez no new hat, d’ yez moind thot? Ye are vain enough ahlriddy.”
MRS. MCGORRY–“Me vain? Oi’m not! Shure, Oi don’t t’ink mesilf half as good lookin’ as Oi am.”
“Of course,” said a suffragette lecturer, “I admit that women are vain and men are not. There are a thousand proofs that this is so. Why, the necktie of the handsomest man in the room is even now up the back of his collar.” There were six men present and each of them put his hand gently behind his neck.
A New York woman of great beauty called one day upon a friend, bringing with her her eleven-year-old daughter, who gives promise of becoming as great a beauty as her mother.
It chanced that the callers were shown into a room where the friend had been receiving a milliner, and there were several beautiful hats lying about. During the conversation the little girl amused herself by examining the milliner’s creations. Of the number that she tried on, she seemed particularly pleased with a large black affair which set off her light hair charmingly. Turning to her mother, the little girl said:
“I look just like you now, Mother, don’t I?”
“Sh!” cautioned the mother, with uplifted finger. “Don’t be vain, dear.”
That which makes the vanity of others unbearable to us is that which wounds our own.–_La Rochefoucauld_.
VERSATILITY
A clergyman who advertised for an organist received this reply:
“_Dear Sir_:
“I notice you have a vacancy for an organist and music teacher, either lady or gentleman. Having been both for several years I beg to apply for the position.”
VOICE
A lanky country youth entered the crossroads general store to order some groceries. He was seventeen years old and was passing through that stage of adolescence during which a boy seems all hands and feet, and his vocal organs, rapidly developing, are wont to cause his voice to undergo sudden and involuntary changes from high treble to low bass.
In an authoritative rumbling bass voice he demanded of the busy clerk, “Give me a can of corn” (then, his voice suddenly changing to a shrill falsetto, he continued) “and a sack of flour.”
“Well, don’t be in a hurry. I can’t wait on both of you at once,” snapped the clerk.
ASPIRING VOCALIST–“Professor, do you think I will ever be able to do anything with my voice?”
PERSPIRING TEACHER–“Well it might come in handy in case of fire or shipwreck.”–_Cornell Widow_.
The devil hath not, in all his quiver’s choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
–_Byron_.
WAGES
“Me gotta da good job,” said Pictro, as he gave the monkey a little more line after grinding out on his organ a selection from “Santa Lucia.” “Getta forty dollar da month and eata myself; thirty da month if da boss eata me.”
Commenting on the comparatively small salaries allowed by Congress for services rendered in the executive branch of the Government and the more liberal pay of some of the officials, a man in public life said:
“It reminds me of the way a gang of laborers used to be paid down my way. The money was thrown at a ladder, and what stuck to the rungs went to the workers, while that which fell through went to the bosses.”
A certain prominent lawyer of Toronto is in the habit of lecturing his office staff from the junior partner down, and Tommy, the office boy, comes in for his full share of the admonition. That his words were appreciated was made evident to the lawyer by a conversation between Tommy and another office boy on the same floor which he recently overheard.
“Wotcher wages?” asked the other boy.
“Ten thousand a year,” replied Tommy.
“Aw, g’wan!”
“Sure,” insisted Tommy, unabashed. “Four dollars a week in cash, an’ de rest in legal advice.”
While an Irishman was gazing in the window of a Washington bookstore the following sign caught his eye:
DICKENS’ WORKS
ALL THIS WEEK FOR
ONLY $4.OO
“The divvle he does!” exclaimed Pat in disgust. “The dirty scab!”
The difference between wages and salary is–when you receive wages you save two dollars a month, when you receive salary you borrow two dollars a month.
He is well paid that is well satisfied.–_Shakespeare_.
The ideal social state is not that in which each gets an equal amount of wealth, but in which each gets in proportion to his contribution to the general stock.–_Henry George_.
WAITERS
Recipe for a waiter:
Stuff a hired dress-suit case with an effort to please, Add a half-dozen stumbles and trips;
Remove his right thumb from the cranberry sauce, Roll in crumbs, melted butter and tips.
–_Life_.
WAR
“Flag of truce, Excellency.”
“Well, what do the revolutionists want?”
“They would like to exchange a couple of Generals for a can of condensed milk.”
If you favor war, dig a trench in your backyard, fill it half full of water, crawl into it, and stay there for a day or two without anything to eat, get a lunatic to shoot at you with a brace of revolvers and a machine gun, and you will have something just as good, and you will save your country a great deal of expense.
“Who are those people who are cheering?” asked the recruit as the soldiers marched to the train.
“Those,” replied the veteran, “are the people who are not going.”–_Puck_.
He who did well in war, just earns the right To begin doing well in peace.
–_Robert Browning_.
A great and lasting war can never be supported on this principle [patriotism] alone. It must be aided by a prospect of interest, or some reward.–_George Washington_.
_See also_ Arbitration, International; European War.
WARNINGS
Pietro had drifted down to Florida and was working with a gang at railroad construction. He had been told to beware of rattlesnakes, but assured that they would always give the warning rattle before striking.
One hot day he was eating his noon luncheon on a pine log when he saw a big rattler coiled a few feet in front of him. He eyed the serpent and began to lift his legs over the log. He had barely got them out of the way when the snake’s fangs hit the bark beneath him.
“Son of a guna!” yelled Pietro. “Why you no ringa da bell?”
WASHINGTON, GEORGE
A Barnegat schoolma’am had been telling her pupils something about George Washington, and finally she asked:
“Can any one now tell me which Washington was–a great general or a great admiral?”
The small son of a fisherman raised his hand, and she signaled him to speak.
“He was a great general,” said the boy. “I seen a picture of him crossing the Delaware, and no great admiral would put out from shore standing up in a skiff.”
A Scotsman visiting America stood gazing at a fine statue of George Washington, when an American approached.
“That was a great and good man, Sandy,” said the American; “a lie never passed his lips.”
“Weel,” said the Scot, “I praysume he talked through his nose like the rest of ye.”
WASPS
The wasp cannot speak, but when he says “Drop it,” in his own inimitable way, neither boy nor man shows any remarkable desire to hold on.
WASTE
The automobile rushed down the road–huge, gigantic, sublime. Over the fence hung the woman who works hard and long-her husband is at the cafe and she has thirteen little ones. (An unlucky number.) Suddenly upon the thirteenth came the auto, unseeing, slew him, and hummed on, unknowing. The woman who works hard and long rushed forward with hands, hands made rough by toil, upraised. She paused and stood inarticulate–a goddess, a giantess. Then she hurled forth these words of derision, of despair: “Mon Dieu! And I’d just washed him!”–_Literally translated from Le Sport of Paris_.
A Boston physician tells of the case of a ten-year-old boy, who, by reason of an attack of fever, became deaf. The physician could afford the lad but little relief, so the boy applied himself to the task of learning the deaf-and-dumb alphabet. The other members of his family, too, acquired a working knowledge of the alphabet, in order that they might converse with the unfortunate youngster.
During the course of the next few months, however, Tommy’s hearing suddenly returned to him, assisted no doubt by a slight operation performed by the physician.
Every one was, of course, delighted, particularly the boy’s mother, who one day exclaimed:
“Oh, Tommy, isn’t it delightful to talk to and hear us again?”
“Yes,” assented Tommy, but with a degree of hesitation; “but here we’ve all learned the sign language, and we can’t find any more use for it!”
WEALTH
If you want to make a living you have to work for it, while if you want to get rich you must go about it in some other way.
The traditional fool and his money are lucky ever to have got together in the first place.–_Puck_.
He that is proud of riches is a fool. For if he be exalted above his neighbors because he hath more gold, how much inferior is he to a gold mine!–_Jeremy Taylor_.
WEATHER
“How did you find the weather in London?” asked the friend of the returned traveler.
“You don’t have to find the weather in London,” replied the traveler. “It bumps into you at every corner.”
An American and a Scotsman were discussing the cold experienced in winter in the North of Scotland.
“Why, it’s nothing at all compared to the cold we have in the States,” said the American. “I can recollect one winter when a sheep, jumping from a hillock into a field, became suddenly frozen on the way, and stuck in the air like a mass of ice.”
“But, man,” exclaimed the Scotsman, “the law of gravity wouldn’t allow that.”
“I know that,” replied the tale-pitcher. “But the law of gravity was frozen, too!”
Two commercial travelers, one from London and one from New York, were discussing the weather in their respective countries.
The Englishman said that English weather had one great fault–its sudden changes.
“A person may take a walk one day,” he said, “attired in a light summer suit, and still feel quite warm. Next day he needs an overcoat.”
“That’s nothing,” said the American. “My two friends, Johnson and Jones, were once having an argument. There were eight or nine inches of snow on the ground. The argument got heated, and Johnson picked up a snowball and threw it at Jones from a distance of not more than five yards. During the transit of that snowball, believe me or not, as you like, the weather changed and became hot and summer like, and Jones, instead of being hit with a snowball, was–er–scalded with hot water!”
Ex-President Taft on one of his trips was playing golf on a western links when he noticed that he had a particularly good caddie, an old man of some sixty years, as they have on the Scottish links.
“And what do you do in winter?” asked the President.
“Such odd jobs as I can pick up, sir,” replied the man.
“Not much chance for caddying then, I suppose?” asked the President.
“No, sir, there is not,” replied the man with a great deal of warmth. “When there’s no frost there’s sure to be snow, and when there’s no snow there’s frost, and when there’s neither there’s sure to be rain. And the few days when it’s fine they’re always Sundays.”
On the way to the office of his publishers one crisp fall morning, James Whitcomb Riley met an unusually large number of acquaintances who commented conventionally upon the fine weather. This unremitting applause amused him. When greeted at the office with “Nice day, Mr. Riley,” he smiled broadly.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, I’ve heard it very highly spoken of.”
The darky in question had simmered in the heat of St. Augustine all his life, and was decoyed by the report that colored men could make as much as $4 a day in Duluth.
He headed North in a seersucker suit and into a hard winter. At Chicago, while waiting for a train, he shivered in an engine room, and on the way to Duluth sped by miles of snow fields.
On arriving he found the mercury at 18 below and promptly lost the use of his hands. Then his feet stiffened and he lost all sensation.
They picked him up and took him to a crematory for unknown dead. After he had been in the oven for awhile somebody opened the door for inspection. Rastus came to and shouted:
“Shut dat do’ and close dat draff!”
There was a small boy in Quebec,
Who was buried in snow to his neck; When they said, “Are you friz?”
He replied, “Yes, I is–
But we don’t call this cold in Quebec.”
–_Rudyard Kipling_.
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.–_Ruskin_.
WEDDING ANNIVERSARIES
Uncle Ephraim had put on a clean collar and his best coat, and was walking majestically up and down the street.
“Aren’t you working to-day, Uncle?” asked somebody.
“No, suh. I’se celebrating’ mah golden weddin’ suh.”
“You were married fifty years ago to-day, then!”
“Yes, suh.”
“Well, why isn’t your wife helping you to celebrate?”
“Mah present wife, suh,” replied Uncle Ephraim with dignity, “ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”
WEDDING PRESENTS
Among the presents lately showered upon a dusky bride in a rural section of Virginia, was one that was a gift of an old woman with whom both bride and groom were great favorites.
Some time ago, it appears, the old woman accumulated a supply of cardboard mottoes, which she worked and had framed as occasion arose.
So it happened that in a neat combination of blues and reds, suspended by a cord of orange, there hung over the table whereon the other presents were displayed for the delectation of the wedding guests, this motto:
FIGHT ON; FIGHT EVER.
WEDDINGS
An actor who was married recently for the third time, and whose bride had been married once before, wrote across the bottom of the wedding invitations: “Be sure and come; this is no amateur performance.”
A wealthy young woman from the west was recently wedded to a member of the nobility of England, and the ceremony occurred in the most fashionable of London churches–St. George’s.
Among the guests was a cousin of the bride, as sturdy an American as can be imagined. He gave an interesting summary of the wedding when asked by a girl friend whether the marriage was a happy one.
“Happy? I should say it was,” said the cousin. “The bride was happy, her mother was overjoyed, Lord Stickleigh, the groom, was in ecstasies, and his creditors, I understand, were in a state of absolute bliss.”–_Edwun Tarrisse_.
The best man noticed that one of the wedding guests, a gloomy-looking young man, did not seem to be enjoying himself. He was wandering about as though he had lost his last friend. The best man took it upon himself to cheer him up.
“Er–have you kissed the bride?” he asked by way of introduction.
“Not lately,” replied the gloomy one with a far-away expression.
The curate of a large and fashionable church was endeavoring to teach the significance of white to a Sunday-school class.
“Why,” said he, “does a bride invariably desire to be clothed in white at her marriage?”
As no one answered, he explained. “White,” said he, “stands for joy, and the wedding-day is the most joyous occasion of a woman’s life.”
A small boy queried, “Why do the men all wear black?”–_M.J. Moor_.
Lilly May came to her mistress. “Ah would like a week’s vacation, Miss Annie,” she said, in her soft negro accent; “Ah wants to be married.”
Lillie had been a good girl, so her mistress gave her the week’s vacation, a white dress, a veil and a plum-cake.
Promptly at the end of the week Lillie returned, radiant. “Oh, Miss Annie!” she exclaimed, “Ah was the mos’ lovely bride! Ma dress was pcrfec’, ma veil mos’ lovely, the cake mos’ good! An’ oh, the dancin’ an’ the eatin’!”
“Well, Lillie, this sounds delightful,” said her mistress, “but you have left out the point of your story–I hope you have a good husband.”
Lillie’s tone changed to indignation: “Now, Miss Annie, what yo’ think? Tha’ darn nigger nebber turn up!”
There is living in Illinois a solemn man who is often funny without meaning to be. At the time of his wedding, he lived in a town some distance from the home of the bride. The wedding was to be at her house. On the eventful day the solemn man started for the station, but on the way met the village grocer, who talked so entertainingly that the bridegroom missed his train.
Naturally he was in a “state.” Something must be done, and done quickly. So he sent the following telegram:
Don’t marry till I come.–HENRY.
–_Howard, Morse_.
In all the wedding cake, hope is the sweetest of the plums.–_Douglas Jerrold_.
WEIGHTS AND MEASURES
“Didn’t I tell ye to feed that cat a pound of meat every day until ye had her fat?” demanded an Irish shopkeeper, nodding toward a sickly, emaciated cat that was slinking through the store.
“Ye did thot,” replied the assistant, “an” I’ve just been after feedin’ her a pound of meat this very minute.”
“Faith, an’ I don’t believe ye. Bring me the scales.”
The poor cat was lifted into the scales. Thy balancd at exactly one pound.
“There!” exclaimed the assistant triumphantly. “Didn’t I tell ye she’d had her pound of meat?”
“That’s right,” admitted the boss, scratching his head. “That’s yer pound of meat all right. But”–suddenly looking up–“where the divvil is the cat?”
WELCOMES
When Ex-President Taft was on his transcontinental tour, American flags and Taft pictures were in evidence everywhere. Usually the Taft pictures contained a word of welcome under them. Those who heard the President’s laugh ring out will not soon forget the western city which, directly under the barred window of the city lockup, displayed a Taft picture with the legend “Welcome” on it.–_Hugh Morist_.
Come in the evening, or come in the morning, Come when you’re looked for, or come without warning, Kisses and welcome you’ll find here before you, And the oftener you come here the more I’ll adore you.
–_Thomas O. Davis_.
WEST, THE
EASTERN LADY (traveling in Montana)–“The idea of calling this the ‘Wild-West’! Why, I never saw such politeness anywhere.”
COWBOY–“We’re allers perlite to ladies, ma’am.”
EASTERN LADY–“Oh, as for that, there is plenty of politeness everywhere. But I refer to the men. Why, in New York the men behave horribly towards one another; but here they treat one another as delicately as gentlemen in a drawing-room.”
COWBOY–“Yes, ma’am; it’s safer.”–_Abbie C. Dixon_.
WHISKY
This is from an Irish priest’s sermon, as quoted in Samuel M. Hussey’s “Reminiscences of an Irish Land Agent”: “‘It’s whisky makes you bate your wives; it’s whisky makes your homes desolate; it’s whisky makes you shoot your landlords, and’–with emphasis, as he thumped the pulpit–‘it’s whisky makes you miss them.'”
In a recent trial of a “bootlegger” in western Kentucky a witness testified that he had purchased some “squirrel” whisky from the defendant.
“Squirrel whisky?” questioned the court.
“Yes, you know: the kind that makes you talk nutty and want to climb trees.”
General Carter, who went to Texas in command of the regulars sent south for maneuvers along the Mexican border, tells this story of an old Irish soldier: The march had been a long and tiresome one, and as the bivouac was being made for the night, the captain noticed that Pat was looking very much fatigued. Thinking that a small drop of whisky might do him good, the captain called Pat aside and said, “Pat, will you have a wee drink of whisky?” Pat made no answer, but folded his arms in a reverential manner and gazed upward. The captain repeated the question several times, but no answer from Pat, who stood silent and motionless, gazing devoutly into the sky. Finally the captain, taking him by the shoulder and giving him a vigorous shake said: “Pat, why don’t you answer? I said, ‘Pat, will you have a drink of whisky?'” After looking around in considerable astonishment Pat replied: “And is it yez, captain? Begorrah and I thought it was an angel spakin’ to me.”
_See_ also Drinking.
WHISKY BREATH
_See_ Breath.
WIDOWS
During the course of conversation between two ladies in a hotel parlor one said to the other: “Are you married?” “No, I am not,” replied the other. “Are you?”
“No,” was the reply, “I, too, am on the single list,” adding: “Strange that two such estimable women as ourselves should have been overlooked in the great matrimonial market! Now that lady,” pointing to another who was passing, “has been widowed four times, two of her husbands having been cremated. The woman,” she continued, “is plain and uninteresting, and yet she has them to burn.”
WIND
VISITOR–“What became of that other windmill that was here last year?”
NATIVE–“There was only enough wind for one, so we took it down.”
Whichever way the wind doth blow
Some heart is glad to have it so;
Then blow it east, or blow it west, The wind that blows, that wind is best.
–_Caroline A. Mason_.
WINDFALLS
A Nebraska man was carried forty miles by a cyclone and dropped in a widow’s front yard. He married the widow and returned home worth about $30,000 more than when he started.
WINE
When our thirsty souls we steep,
Every sorrow’s lull’d to sleep.
Talk of monarchs! we are then
Richest, happiest, first of men.
When I drink, my heart refines
And rises as the cup declines;
Rises in the genial flow,
That none but social spirits know.
To-day we’ll haste to quaff our wine, As if to-morrow ne’er should shine;
But if to-morrow comes, why then– We’ll haste to quaff our wine again.
Let me, oh, my budding vine,
Spill no other blood than thine.
Yonder brimming goblet see,
That alone shall vanquish me.
I pray thee, by the gods above,
Give me the mighty howl I love,
And let me sing, in wild delight.
“I will–I will be mad to-night!”
When Father Time swings round his scythe, Intomb me ‘neath the bounteous vine,
So that its juices red and blythe, May cheer these thirsty bones of mine.
–_Eugene Field_.
_See also_ Drinking.
WISHES
George Washington drew a long sigh and said: “Ah wish Ah had a hundred watermillions.”
Dixie’s eyes lighted. “Hum! Dat would suttenly be fine! An’ ef yo’ had a hundred watermillions would yo’ gib me fifty?”
“No, Ah wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t yo’ give me twenty-five?”
“No, Ah wouldn’t gib yo’ no twenty-five.”
Dixie gaxed with reproachful eyes at his close-fisted friend. “Seems to me, you’s powahful stingy, George Washington,” he said, and then continued in a heartbroken voice. “Wouldn’t yo’ gib me one?”
“No, Ah wouldn’t gib yo’ one. Look a’ heah, nigger! Are yo’ so good for nuffen lazy dat yo’ cahn’t wish fo’ yo’ own watermillions?”
“Man wants but little here below
Nor wants that little long,”
‘Tis not with me exactly so;
But’tis so in the song.
My wants are many, and, if told,
Would muster many a score;
And were each a mint of gold,
I still should long for more.
–_John Quincy Adams_.
WITNESSES
“The trouble is,” said Wilkins as he talked the matter over with his counsel, “that in the excitement of the moment I admitted that I had been going too fast, and wasn’t paying any attention to the road just before the collision. I’m afraid that admission is going to prove costly.”
“Don’t wory about that,” said his lawyer. “I’ll bring seven witnesses to testify that they wouldn’t believe you under oath.”
On his eighty-fourth birthday, Paul Smith, the veteran Adirondock hotel-keeper, who started life as a guide and died owning a million dollars’ worth of forest land, was talking about boundary disputes with an old friend.
“Didn’t you hear of the lawsuit over a title that I had with Jones down in Malone last summer?” asked Paul. The friend had not heard.
“Well,” said Paul, “it was this way. I sat in the court room before the case opened with my witnesses around me. Jones busted in, stopped, looked my witnesses over carefully, and said: ‘Paul, are those your witnesses?’ ‘They are,’ said I. ‘Then you win,’ said he. ‘I’ve had them witnesses twice myself.'”
WIVES
“Father,” said a little boy, “had Solomon seven hundred wives?”
“I believe so, my son,” said the father.
“Well, father, was he the man who said, ‘Give me liberty or give me death?'”–_Town Topics_.
A charitable lady was reading the Old Testament to an aged woman who lived at the home for old people, and chanced upon the passage concerning Solomon’s household.
“Had Solomon really seven hundred wives?” inquired the old woman, after reflection.
“Oh, yes, Mary! It is so stated in the Bible.”
“Lor’, mum!” was the comment. “What privileges them early Christians had!”
CASEY–“Now, phwat wu’u’d ye do in a case loike thot?”
CLANCY–“Loike phwat?”
CASEY–“Th’ walkin’ diligate tils me to stroike, an’ me ould woman orders me to ke-ape on wurrkin’.”
Governor Vardaman, of Mississippi, was taken to task because he had made a certain appointment, a friend maintaining that another man should have received the place. The governor listened quietly and then said:
“Did I ever tell you about Mose Williams? One day Mose sought his employer, an acquaintance of mine, and inquired:
“‘Say, boss, is yo’ gwine to town t’morrer?’
“‘I think so. Why?’
“‘Well, hit’s dishaway. Me an’ Easter Johnson’s gwine to git mahred, an’ Ah ‘lowed to ax yo’ ter git a pair of licenses fo’ me.”
“I shall be delighted to oblige you, Mose, and I hope you will be very happy.”
“The next day when the gentleman rode up to his house the old man was waiting for him.
“‘Did you git ’em, boss?” he inquired eagerly.
“‘Yes, here they are.’
“Mose looked at them ruefully, shaking his head. ‘Ah’m po’ful sorry yo’ got ’em, boss!’
“‘Whats the matter? Has Easter gone back on you?’
“‘It ain’t dat, boss. Ah done changed mah min.’ Ah’m gwine to mahry Sophie Coleman, dat freckled-faced yaller girl what works up to Mis’ Mason’s, for she sholy can cook!’
“Well, I’ll try and have the name changed for you, but it will cost you fifty cents more.’
“Mose assented, somewhat dubiously, and the gentleman had the change made. Again he found Mose waiting for him.
“‘Wouldn’t change hit, boss, would he?’
“‘Certainly he changed it. I simply had to pay him the fifty cents.’
“‘Ah was hopin’ he wouldn’t do it. Mah min’s made up to mahry Easter Johnson after all.’
“‘You crazy nigger, you don’t know what you do want. What made you change your mind again?’
“‘Well, boss, Ah been thinkin’ it over an’ Ah jes’ ‘lowed dar wasn’t fifty cents wuth ob diff’runce in dem two niggers.'”
A wife is a woman who is expected to purchase without means, and sew on buttons before they come off.
“What are you cutting out of the paper?”
“About a California man securing a divorce because his wife went through his pockets.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Put it in my pocket.”
A woman missionary in China was taking tea with a mandarin’s eight wives. The Chinese ladies examined her clothing, her hair, her teeth, and so on, but her feet especially amazed them.
“Why,” cried one, “you can walk or run as well as a man!”
“Yes, to be sure,” said the missionary.
“Can you ride a horse and swim, too?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must be as strong as a man!”
“I am.”
“And you wouldn’t let a man beat you–not even if he was your husband–would you?”
“Indeed I wouldn’t,” the missionary said.
The mandarin’s eight wives looked at one another, nodding their heads. Then the oldest said softly:
“Now I understand why the foreign devil never has more than one wife. He is afraid!”–_Western Christian Advocate_.
PAT–“I hear your woife is sick, Moike.”
MIKE–“She is thot.”
PAT–“Is it dangerous she is?”
MIKE–“Divil a bit. She’s too weak to be dangerous any more!”
SON–“Say, mama, father broke this vase before he went out.”
MOTHER–“My beautiful majolica vase! Wait till he comes back, that’s all.”
SON–“May I stay up till he does?”