Among the Humorists and After Dinner Speakers Part 5

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 pa.s.sed 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.