“When I asked my girl to marry me, she said,‘Go to father.’She knew that I knew her father was dead;She knew that I knew what a life he had led;She knew that I knew what she meant when she said,‘Go to father.’”
“When I asked my girl to marry me, she said,‘Go to father.’She knew that I knew her father was dead;She knew that I knew what a life he had led;She knew that I knew what she meant when she said,‘Go to father.’”
“When I asked my girl to marry me, she said,‘Go to father.’She knew that I knew her father was dead;She knew that I knew what a life he had led;She knew that I knew what she meant when she said,‘Go to father.’”
The chaplain of a large private asylum asked a brother clergyman to preach to the inmates on a Sunday during his absence. Before going away, he said: “Preach your best, for, thoughinsane on some points, they are very intelligent.” So he talked to them of India, and of heathen mothers who threw their dear little babies into the sacred river Ganges as offerings to their false gods. Tears streamed down the face of one listener, evidently deeply affected. When asked by the preacher afterward what part of the sermon had touched his heart with grief, the lunatic replied: “I was thinking it was a pity your mother didn’t throw you into the Ganges.”
The poet of the Pine Tree State is said to have shown decided poetic proclivities from his earliest days. When a boy of eight or nine, he had two kittens which he had named Myrtle and Ann Eliza. Myrtle died. He buried her in the orchard and planted a shingle headstone on the grave, on which his smiling parents read:
“Here Myrtle lies—Gone to fertilize.”
“Here Myrtle lies—Gone to fertilize.”
“Here Myrtle lies—Gone to fertilize.”
In a short time Ann Eliza passed from thisearthly scene of caterwauling, and was buried beside Myrtle, with a shingle headstone duly erected and inscribed. His parents, wondering what would be the epitaph, were delighted to read:
“Here lies Ann Eliza—More fertilizer.”
“Here lies Ann Eliza—More fertilizer.”
“Here lies Ann Eliza—More fertilizer.”
Two lovers were taking a walk along a country road. The day was fine, the sun was shining and a good breeze was blowing across the hills and fields. The young man was of an idealistic temperament and of good poetic taste, but the young lady was quite matter-of-fact and altogether practical, their differing dispositions being illustrated by their conversation by the way. They had paused in their walk and sat down to rest a while under the outspreading branches of an apple-tree laden with green fruit.
“Ah, my dear,” said he as he looked around, “how grand and glorious all this is—the bright day, the glorious sunlight, the wind blowingfresh and full, and the limbs of this grand old tree moaning a sweet and tuneful melody in response to it all——“
“Yes,” interrupted she, “I guess you’d be groaning, too, if you were as full of green apples as that old apple-tree is!”
A man who had been playing the part of the Lamb in the Great Wall Street Theatre, was complaining that he had invested a large sum of money in that institution and had lost every cent of it. A sympathizing friend asked him whether he had been a Bull or a Bear, and the Lamb replied, “Neither. I was a Jackass!”
The minister was a very genial man and a very witty man. He had great difficulty in getting his salary promptly. Of late it was much in arrears, and he did not know what to do. One day he entered the hardware store kept by his leading deacon, and asked to lookat corkscrews. He looked over the assortment very carefully, saying that he wanted quite a large one, one that was very strong, too. And when the deacon asked him what he wanted with a corkscrew, the minister replied, “I want it to draw my salary with.” He got it.
A negro exhorter shouted to his audience, “Come up an’ jine de army ob de Lord!”
“I’se done jined,” replied one woman.
“Whar’d yo’ jine?” asked the exhorter.
“In de Baptis’ Church.”
“Why, chile,” said the exhorter, “yo’ ain’t in de army ob de Lord; yo’s in de navy.”
When Dr. Theodore L. Cuyler once put the question, “What is the chief end of man?” to a gathering of Sunday-school scholars, he received for an answer, “To glorify God and annoy Him forever.” Another minister relates that he once asked this famous question of a very much neglected boy, “What is the chief end of man?” and the boy promptly replied, “Why, I guess the end that has the hat on!”
Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes was once invited by a lady friend to a social afternoon tea. The hostess had invited and had present the cream of her acquaintance and expected some expression of admiration from the great man. As he was taking his leave, the lady said to him, “Well, Doctor, what is your opinion of an afternoon tea?” And the witty but cruel man replied, “My dear friend, it is all giggle—gabble—gobble—and git!”
Davies Herkimer, the noted political economist, said of modern politics in an address on reform that he recently delivered:
“Modern politics are entirely too tricky. The average candidate when he enters the political struggle lets plain dealing go by the board. What, then, is the result? The result is something altogether worthless, something that reminds me of a Western clergyman.
“This clergyman was very fond of cider. Hiscongregation, meeting secretly last autumn, decided that it would surprise him with a hogshead of the beverage he loved and arranged to hold a surprise party at the manse, each guest to bring a demijohn of cider and to empty it into a huge hogshead in the garden. The party duly came off. The guests brought their demijohns, emptied them into the hogshead and feasted afterward in the manse on apples, nuts and gingerbread.
“At the height of the feasting the clergyman host was told of the full hogshead that stood without the door, and, overjoyed, the good man said to his servant:
“‘Jane, take a pitcher, fill it at the hogshead, and bring it in that we may sample it.’
“The maid withdrew into the darkness and soon returned with a pitcher brimming with—clear water!
“Each tricky guest had filled his demijohn at the pump, thinking that amid so much cider his aqueous contribution would escape unnoticed. But this trickery, like the trickery of modern politics, had been a little too unanimous.”
It was a Pennsylvania German farmer’s wife who having baked a large number of very fine pies, some mince and some apple, marked the crust of each with two letters—T. M. Being asked by a neighbor what these letters stood for, she said:
“Vy, T. M. on this pie means ‘’Tis mince,’ and on that pie it means ‘’Tain’t mince.”
If landladies served flying-fish,I believe, by jing,That every time they passed the dishI’d get a wing.
If landladies served flying-fish,I believe, by jing,That every time they passed the dishI’d get a wing.
If landladies served flying-fish,I believe, by jing,That every time they passed the dishI’d get a wing.
Query—A Knight to Jerusalem did repair,And had the colic, when? and where?Answer—In the middle of the Knight.
Query—A Knight to Jerusalem did repair,And had the colic, when? and where?Answer—In the middle of the Knight.
Query—A Knight to Jerusalem did repair,And had the colic, when? and where?Answer—In the middle of the Knight.
A lawyer advertised for a clerk. The next morning the office was crowded with applicants—all bright and many suitable. He bade them wait until all should arrive and then arranged them all in a row and said he would tell them a story, note their comments and judge from that whom he would choose.
“A certain farmer,” began the lawyer, “was troubled with a red squirrel that got in through a hole in his barn and stole his seed corn. He resolved to kill the squirrel at the first opportunity. Seeing him go in at the hole one noon he took his shotgun and fired away. The first shot set the barn on fire.”
“Did the barn burn?” said one of the boys.
The lawyer, without answer, continued:
“And seeing the barn on fire the farmer seized a pail of water and ran to put it out.”
“Did he put it out?” said another.
“As he passed inside the door shut to and the barn was soon in flames. When the hired girl rushed out with more water——“
“Did they all burn up?” said another boy.
The lawyer went on without answer: “Then the old lady came out, and all was noise and confusion and everybody was trying to put out the fire.”
“Did any one burn up?” said another.
The lawyer said: “There, that will do; you have all shown great interest in the story.”
But observing one little bright-eyed fellow in deep silence, he said: “Now, my little man, what have you to say?”
The little fellow blushed, grew uneasy and stammered out: “I want to know what became of that squirrel; that’s what I want to know.”
“You’ll do,” said the lawyer; “you are my man; you have not been switched off by a confusion and barn burning, and the hired girls and water pails. You have kept your eye on the squirrel.”
“Charley,” remarked Jones, “you were born to be a writer.” “Ha!” replied Charley, flushing at the compliment, “you have seen some of the things I have turned off?” “No,” saidJones, “I wasn’t referring to what you have written. I was simply thinking what a splendid ear you have for carrying a pen. Immense, Charley, simply immense!”
When some one was complaining of insomnia, an Irishman recommended a sure cure for it. “Go to bed,” said he, “an’ schlape it off!”
Said an Englishman to an American tourist, as he drew out of his pocket an old English silver coin, “Do you see the image on that coin? That’s the picture of the old English king that made my great grandfather a Duke.”
“Pooh!” said the Yankee. “That’s nothin’. Here, do you see this United States coin? We call it a cent. And you will observe the picture of an Indian on the cent. Well, sir, that’s the picture of the Indian that made my grandfather an Angel!”
In driving out into the country on a by-road a few days ago, a lawyer encountered a horse and buggy driven by a woman. As she wasdriving on the wrong side of the road, he made up his mind not to give up his rights. As a consequence, the two horses finally came to a standstill, with their noses rubbing each other. The lawyer stared at the woman and the woman stared back. Then he pulled a newspaper from his pocket, and began reading. In a minute, she had her knitting out and was industriously at work. Ten long minutes in a broiling sun passed away, and the lawyer looked up and asked: “How long are you going to stay here?” “How long are you?” “All day.” “And I’ll stay here a whole week.” He read and she knit for about ten minutes, and then the lawyer cried out: “Do you know that I’m a lawyer?” “I don’t care for that,” she replied; “I’m the wife of a Justice of the Peace.” “Oh—ah—excuse me, madam. Really, but if I’d known you belonged to the purfesh, this would not have happened. Take this side, madam, take the whole road!”
Deacon Broadbent, an honest and pious man, was conducting a Christmas revival with greatsuccess. In a word, his powerful exhortations had brought Calhoun White, the town’s worst sinner, weeping to the mourner’s bench.
The deacon, gratified by this proof of his evangelical prowess, hastened to Calhoun’s side.
“Deacon,” sobbed Calhoun, “‘tain’t no use in mah comin’ up. I’se sinned away de day o’ grace.”
“No, you hain’t, brudder Cal,” said the deacon. “All yo’ got to do is to gib up sin an’ all will be forgibben.”
“I’se done gib it up, deacon, but dar hain’t no salvation fo’ me.”
“Yes, dey is, honey. Dey hain’t no sin so black but it kin be washed whiter’n de snow.”
“But I don stole fo’ young turkeys last week,” said the penitent.
“Dat’s all forgibben, Cal.”
“An’ free de week befo’.”
“Dat’s forgibben, too.”
“An’ six fat Christmas geese——“
“—— six fat Christmas geese outer yore own yard, deacon—dem fat geese wot yo’ ’lowed to set so much store by.”
“Wot’s dat yo’ say?” the deacon hissed furiously.
“It wuz me wot stole yo’ Christmas geese, sah.”
“I reckon, Calhoun,” he said slowly, “I reckon I’se spoke too hasty. Dis case o’ yourn needs advisement. I ain’t sho’ dat we’s justified in clutterin’ up de Kingdom o’ Heben wid chicken thieves.”
One day a village parson was summoned in haste by Mrs. Johnson, who had been taken seriously ill. He went in some wonder at the summons, because the woman was not of his parish, and was known to be devoted to her own minister, the Rev. Mr. Hopkins.
While he was waiting in the parlor before seeing the sick woman, he passed the time talking with her daughter.
“I am very pleased your mother thought of me in her illness,” he said. “Is Mr. Hopkins away?”
“Oh, dear no,” she replied, “but we areafraid mother has something contagious, like small-pox, and we couldn’t think of letting dear Mr. Hopkins run any risk!”
“If yu trade horses with a jockey, you kan’t git cheated but once. But—if yu trade with a deakon yu may git cheated twice—once in the horse, and once in the deakon” ... “Go in when it rains.”
Josh Billings
“Now, my man,” said the minister to the happy bridegroom after the marriage ceremony, “you have come to the end of all your troubles.” The man came back to the minister a week later and said: “You told me I had come to the end of all my troubles when I got married, and I find they are just beginning.” “Ah, my dear brother,” was the response, “all troubles have two ends, and I didn’t say which end, did I?”
It is related that once upon a time the President paid an important visit to an Indian reservation in the Far and Distant West. In honor of the great occasion the great chiefs of the tribe were all gathered together, arrayed in their best bib and tucker, all war-paint and feathers, and sat cross-legged in a great circle listening to the words of wisdom from the Great Father.
“Noble Red Men of the Forest,” began the President, “Primeval and Original Proprietors of the Soil of the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave! I am delighted to see you!”
And all the Indians round the circle exclaimed: “Walla Walla!” This evidently being Indian for “Hear! Hear!”
“You have indeed been greatly wronged,” continued the speaker, “and I take your wrongs to my own heart, and I shall take immediate measures for their redress, and shall demand that hereafter justice shall be done to the noble Red Men, the Original Proprietors of the Free Soil of America.”
And the Indians again shouted approval, “Walla Walla!”
“Aye,” he continued, “on my return toWashington I shall personally see to it that your wrongs are righted, and shall direct that the Indian Appropriation be greatly increased, so that you may spend your lives in comfort and plenty.”
Again in deep and guttural tones the Indians applauded, “Walla Walla!”
After it was all over, the President expressed his delight at the hearty interest and evident appreciation of his warlike auditors, being particularly impressed with the fact that they had so well understood his remarks, as was sufficiently manifest by the fact that they applauded every time just at the right place. And then the Interpreter asked him whether he knew what Walla Walla meant? And he not knowing the meaning thereof, the cruel Interpreter disillusioned him by telling him that Walla Walla was Indian for “Hot Air!”
A gentleman who spent part of a summer recently in England relates an incident which very sadly disturbed the religious peace of a parish in Penzance.
A gentleman, his wife and his mother-in-law lived together. They had a parrot. And the parrot had somehow and somewhere—they could not imagine how or where—picked up the very disagreeable habit of remarking at frequent intervals:
“Wisht the old woman were dead. Wisht the old woman were dead.” This annoyed the good people of the house very much, and they at last ventured to speak to the curate about it.
“I think we can rectify the matter,” replied the good man. “I also have a parrot, and he is a very righteous bird, having been brought up in the way he should go. I will lend you my parrot, and I trust his good influence will soon reform that depraved bird of yours.”
The curate’s parrot was placed in the same room with the wicked one, and as soon as the two had become accustomed to each other, the bad bird remarked:
“Wisht the old woman were dead.”
Whereupon the clergyman’s bird rolled up his eyes, and in solemn accents responded:
“We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord.”
The story got out in the parish, and for several Sundays it was thought expedient to omit the Litany at the church services.
Dr. Jowett was a warm friend of University extension. When the question came up at Oxford of entertaining the students during the summer, he found the Dons very much opposed to giving up even temporarily their quarters, claiming their vested rights even in vacation. The Master, however, controlled the buttery, and also the chapel exercises. He accordingly cut down the commissariat and lengthened out the prayers, until the Dons yielded and quietly moved out. As a party of them, portmanteaus in hand, were walking to the railway station one day, he chuckled to a friend, “This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.”
Barnum, the great showman, once upon a time lit upon a very happy expedient to get a great company of people to move on. Theywere packed together in the great tent, and every one of them was anxious to see all that was to be seen, and determined not to miss anything. It was necessary to clear the room, but the crowd couldn’t be shoved and wouldn’t go out. At the direction of the great showman a man appeared with a brush and a kettle of red paint. He painted just one word, in big letters, on a door leading out into a side street. The word was EGRESS. “Come on,” said the crowd, “let’s go in and see The Egress.” They went in, and they went out, and they saw
THE EGRESS
·EGRESS·