Congress is a national inquisitorial body for the purpose of acquiring valuable information and then doing nothing about it.—Life.
"Judging from the stuff printed in the newspapers," says a congressman, "we are a pretty bad lot. Almost in the class a certain miss whom I know unconsciously puts us in. It was at a recent examination at her school that the question was put, 'Who makes the laws of our government?'
"'Congress,' was the united reply.
"'How is Congress divided?' was the next query.
"My young friend raised her hand.
"'Well,' said the teacher, 'what do you say the answer is?'
"Instantly, with an air of confidence as well as triumph, the Miss replied, 'Civilized, half civilized, and savage.'"
It was at a banquet in Washington given to a large body of congressmen, mostly from the rural districts. The tables were elegant, and it was a scene of fairy splendor; but on one table there were no decorations but palm leaves.
"Here," said a congressman to the head waiter, "why don't you put them things on our table too?" pointing to the plants.
The head waiter didn't know he was a congressman.
"We cain't do it, boss," he whispered confidentially; "dey's mostly congressmen at 'dis table, an' if we put pa'ms on de table dey take um for celery an' eat um all up sho. 'Deed dey would, boss. We knows 'em."
Representative X, from North Carolina, was one night awakened by his wife, who whispered, "John, John, get up! There are robbers in the house."
"Robbers?" he said. "There may be robbers in the Senate, Mary; but not in the House! It's preposterous!"—John N. Cole, Jr.
Champ Clark loves to tell of how in the heat of a debate Congressman Johnson of Indiana called an Illinois representative a jackass. The expression was unparliamentary, and in retraction Johnson said:
"While I withdraw the unfortunate word, Mr. Speaker, I must insist that the gentleman from Illinois is out of order."
"How am I out of order?" yelled the man from Illinois.
"Probably a veterinary surgeon could tell you," answered Johnson, and that was parliamentary enough to stay on the record.
A Georgia Congressman had put up at an American-plan hotel in New York. When, upon sitting down at dinner the first evening of his stay, the waiter obsequiously handed him a bill of fare, the Congressman tossed it aside, slipped the waiter a dollar bill, and said, "Bring me a good dinner."
The dinner proving satisfactory, the Southern member pursued this plan during his entire stay in New York. As the last tip was given, he mentioned that he was about to return to Washington.
Whereupon, the waiter, with an expression of great earnestness, said:
"Well, sir, when you or any of your friends that can't read come to New York, just ask for Dick."
The moral of this story may be that it is better to heed the warnings of the "still small voice" before it is driven to the use of the telephone.
A New York lawyer, gazing idly out of his window, saw a sight in an office across the street that made him rub his eyes and look again. Yes, there was no doubt about it. The pretty stenographer was sitting upon the gentleman's lap. The lawyer noticed the name that was lettered on the window and then searched in the telephone book. Still keeping his eye upon the scene across the street, he called the gentleman up. In a few moments he saw him start violently and take down the receiver.
"Yes," said the lawyer through the telephone, "I should think you would start."
The victim whisked his arm from its former position and began to stammer something.
"Yes," continued the lawyer severely, "I think you'd better take that arm away. And while you're about it, as long as there seems to be plenty of chairs in the room—"
The victim brushed the lady from his lap, rather roughly, it is to be feared. "Who—who the devil is this, anyhow?" he managed to splutter.
"I," answered the lawyer in deep, impressive tones, "am your conscience!"
A quiet conscience makes one so serene!Christians have burnt each other, quite persuadedThat all the Apostles would have done as they did.—Byron.
A quiet conscience makes one so serene!Christians have burnt each other, quite persuadedThat all the Apostles would have done as they did.
A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
—Byron.
—Byron.
Oh, Conscience! Conscience! man's most faithful friend,Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend;But if he will thy friendly checks forego,Thou art, oh! woe for me his deadliest foe!—Crabbe.
Oh, Conscience! Conscience! man's most faithful friend,Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend;But if he will thy friendly checks forego,Thou art, oh! woe for me his deadliest foe!
Oh, Conscience! Conscience! man's most faithful friend,
Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend;
But if he will thy friendly checks forego,
Thou art, oh! woe for me his deadliest foe!
—Crabbe.
—Crabbe.
A teacher asked her class in spelling to state the difference between the words "results" and "consequences."
A bright girl replied, "Results are what you expect, and consequences are what you get."
Consequences are unpitying. Our deeds carry their terrible consequences, quite apart from any fluctuations that went before—consequences that are hardly ever confined to ourselves.—George Eliot.
The goose had been carved at the Christmas dinner and everybody had tasted it. It was excellent. The negro minister, who was the guest of honor, could not restrain his enthusiasm.
"Dat's as fine a goose as I evah see, Bruddah Williams," he said to his host. "Whar did you git such a fine goose?"
"Well, now, Pahson," replied the carver of the goose, exhibiting great dignity and reticence, "when you preaches a speshul good sermon I never axes you whar you got it. I hopes you will show me de same considerashion."
A clergyman, who was summoned in haste by a woman who had been taken suddenly ill, answered the call though somewhat puzzled by it, for he knew that she was not of his parish, and was, moreover, known to be a devoted worker in another church. While he was waiting to be shown to the sick-room he fell to talking to the little girl of the house.
"It is very gratifying to know that your mother thought of me in her illness," said he, "Is your minister out of town?"
"Oh, no," answered the child, in a matter-of-fact tone. "He's home; only we thought it might be something contagious, and we didn't want to take any risks."
A soldier belonging to a brigade in command of a General who believed in a celibate army asked permission to marry, as he had two good-conduct badges and money in the savings-bank.
"Well, go-away," said the General, "and if you come back to me a year from today in the same frame of mind you shall marry. I'll keep the vacancy."
On the anniversary the soldier repeated his request.
"But do you really, after a year, want to marry?" inquired the General in a surprised tone.
"Yes, sir; very much."
"Sergeant-Major, take his name down. Yes, you may marry. I never believed there was so much constancy in man or woman. Right face; quick march!"
As the man left the room, turning his head, he said, "Thank you, sir; but it isn't the same woman."
The parson looks it o'er and frets.It puts him out of sortsTo see how many times he getsA penny for his thoughts.—J.J. O'Connell.
The parson looks it o'er and frets.It puts him out of sortsTo see how many times he getsA penny for his thoughts.
The parson looks it o'er and frets.
It puts him out of sorts
To see how many times he gets
A penny for his thoughts.
—J.J. O'Connell.
—J.J. O'Connell.
There were introductions all around. The big man stared in a puzzled way at the club guest. "You look like a man I've seen somewhere, Mr. Blinker," he said. "Your face seems familiar. I fancy you have a double. And a funny thing about it is that I remember I formed a strong prejudice against the man who looks like you—although, I'm quite sure, we never met."
The little guest softly laughed. "I'm the man," he answered, "and I know why you formed the prejudice. I passed the contribution plate for two years in the church you attended."
The collections had fallen off badly in the colored church and the pastor made a short address before the box was passed.
"I don' want any man to gib mo' dan his share, bredern," he said gently, "but we mus' all gib ercordin' to what we rightly hab. I say 'rightly hab," bredern, because we don't want no tainted money in dis box. 'Squire Jones tol' me dat he done miss some chickens dis week. Now if any of our bredern hab fallen by de wayside in connection wif dose chickens let him stay his hand from de box.
"Now, Deacon Smiff, please pass de box while I watch de signs an' see if dere's any one in dis congregation dat needs me ter wrastle in prayer fer him."
A newly appointed Scotch minister on his first Sunday of office had reason to complain of the poorness of the collection. "Mon," replied one of the elders, "they are close—vera close."
"But," confidentially, "the auld meenister he put three or four saxpenses into the plate hissel', just to gie them a start. Of course he took the saxpenses awa' with him afterward." The new minister tried the same plan, but the next Sunday he again had to report a dismal failure. The total collection was not only small, but he was grieved to find that his own sixpences were missing. "Ye may be a better preacher than the auld meenister," exclaimed the elder, "but if ye had half the knowledge o' the world, an' o' yer ain flock in particular, ye'd ha' done what he did an' glued the saxpenses to the plate."
POLICE COMMISSIONER—"If you were ordered to disperse a mob, what would you do?"
APPLICANT—"Pass around the hat, sir."
POLICE COMMISSIONER—"That'll do; you're engaged."
"I advertized that the poor were made welcome in this church," said the vicar to his congregation, "and as the offertory amounts to ninety-five cents, I see that they have come."
See alsoSalvation.
"Mose, what is the difference between a bucket of milk in a rain storm and a conversation between two confidence men?"
"Say, boss, dat nut am too hard to crack; I'se gwine to give it up."
"Well, Mose, one is a thinning scheme and the other is a skinning theme."
"My dog understands every word I say."
"Um."
"Do you doubt it?"
"No, I do not doubt the brute's intelligence. The scant attention he bestows upon your conversation would indicate that he understands it perfectly."
THE TALL AND AGGRESSIVE ONE—"Excuse me, but I'm in a hurry! You've had that phone twenty minutes and not said a word!"
THE SHORT AND MEEK ONE—"Sir, I'm talking to my wife."—Puck.
HUS (during a quarrel)—"You talk like an idiot."
WIFE—"I've got to talk so you can understand me."
Irving Bacheller, it appears, was on a tramping tour through New England. He discovered a chin-bearded patriarch on a roadside rock.
"Fine corn," said Mr. Bacheller, tentatively, using a hillside filled with straggling stalks as a means of breaking the conversational ice.
"Best in Massachusetts," said the sitter.
"How do you plow that field?" asked Mr. Bacheller. "It is so very steep."
"Don't plow it," said the sitter. "When the spring thaws come, the rocks rolling down hill tear it up so that we can plant corn."
"And how do you plant it?" asked Mr. Bacheller. The sitter said that he didn't plant it, really. He stood in his back door and shot the seed in with a shotgun.
"Is that the truth?" asked Bacheller.
"H—ll no," said the sitter, disgusted. "That's conversation."
Conversation is the laboratory and workshop of the student.—Emerson.
A single conversation across the table with a wise man is better than ten years' study of books.—Longfellow.
"John, John," whispered an alarmed wife, poking her sleeping husband in the ribs. "Wake up, John; there are burglars in the pantry and they're eating all my pies."
"Well, what do we care," mumbled John, rolling over, "so long as they don't die in the house?"
"This is certainly a modern cook-book in every way."
"How so?"
"It says: 'After mixing your bread, you can watch two reels at the movies before putting it in the oven.'"—Puck.
There was recently presented to a newly-married young woman in Baltimore such a unique domestic proposition that she felt called upon to seek expert advice from another woman, whom she knew to possess considerable experience in the cooking line.
"Mrs. Jones," said the first mentioned young woman, as she breathlessly entered the apartment of the latter, "I'm sorry to trouble you, but I must have your advice."
"What is the trouble, my dear?"
"Why, I've just had a 'phone message from Harry, saying that he is going out this afternoon to shoot clay pigeons. Now, he's bound to bring a lot home, and I haven't the remotest idea how to cook them. Won't you please tell me?"—Taylor Edwards.
Heaven sends us good meat, but the devil sends us cooks.—David Garrick.
SeeServants.
Spurgeon was once asked if the man who learned to play a cornet on Sunday would go to heaven.
The great preacher's reply was characteristic. Said he: "I don't see why he should not, but"—after a pause—"I doubt whether the man next door will."
Great aches from little toe-corns grow.
The wife of a prominent Judge was making arrangements with the colored laundress of the village to take charge of their washing for the summer. Now, the Judge was pompous and extremely fat. He tipped the scales at some three hundred pounds.
"Missus," said the woman, "I'll do your washing, but I'se gwine ter charge you double for your husband's shirts."
"Why, what is your reason for that Nancy," questioned the mistress.
"Well," said the laundress, "I don't mind washing fur an ordinary man, but I draws de line on circus tents, I sho' do."
An employee of a rolling mill was on his vacation when he fell in love with a handsome German girl. Upon his return to the works, he went to Mr. Carnegie and announced that as he wanted to get married he would like a little further time off. Mr. Carnegie appeared much interested. "Tell me about her," he said. "Is she short or is she tall, slender, willowy?"
"Well, Mr. Carnegie," was the answer, "all I can say is that if I'd had the rolling of her, I should have given her two or three more passes."
A very stout old lady, bustling through the park on a sweltering hot day, became aware that she was being closely followed by a rough-looking tramp.
"What do you mean by following me in this manner?" she indignantly demanded. The tramp slunk back a little. But when the stout lady resumed her walk he again took up his position directly behind her.
"See here," she exclaimed, wheeling angrily, "if you don't go away at once I shall call a policeman!"
The unfortunate man looked up at her appealingly.
"For Heaven's sake, kind lady, have mercy an' don't call a policeman; ye're the only shady spot in the whole park."
A jolly steamboat captain with more girth than height was asked if he had ever had any very narrow escapes.
"Yes," he replied, his eyes twinkling; "once I fell off my boat at the mouth of Bear Creek, and, although I'm an expert swimmer, I guess I'd be there now if it hadn't been for my crew. You see the water was just deep enough so's to be over my head when I tried to wade out, and just shallow enough"—he gave his body an explanatory pat—"so that whenever I tried to swim out I dragged bottom."
A very large lady entered a street car and a young man near the door rose and said: "I will be one of three to give the lady a seat."
To our Fat Friends: May their shadows never grow less.
See alsoDancing.
Secretary of State Lazansky refused to incorporate the Hell Cafe of New York.
"New York's cafes are singular enough," said Mr. Lazansky, "without the addition of such a queerly named institution as the Hell."
He smiled and added:
"Is there anything quite so queerly cosmopolitan as a New York cafe? In the last one I visited, I saw a Portuguese, a German and an Italian, dressed in English clothes and seated at a table of Spanish walnut, lunching on Russian caviar, French rolls, Scotch salmon, Welsh rabbit, Swiss cheese, Dutch cake and Malaga raisins. They drank China tea and Irish whisky."
"Did you punish our son for throwing a lump of coal at Willie Smiggs?" asked the careful mother.
"I did," replied the busy father. "I don't care so much for the Smiggs boy, but I can't have anybody in this family throwing coal around like that."
"Live within your income," was a maxim uttered by Mr. Carnegie on his seventy-sixth birthday. This is easy; the difficulty is to live without it.—Satire.
"You say your jewels were stolen while the family was at dinner?"
"No, no! This is an important robbery. Our dinner was stolen while we were putting on our jewels."
A grouchy butcher, who had watched the price of porterhouse steak climb the ladder of fame, was deep in the throes of an unusually bad grouch when a would-be customer, eight years old, approached him and handed him a penny.
"Please, mister, I want a cent's worth of sausage."
Turning on the youngster with a growl, he let forth this burst of good salesmanship:
"Go smell o' the hook!"
TOM—"My pa is very religious. He always bows his head and says something before meals."
DICK—"Mine always says something when he sits down to eat, but he don't bow his head."
TOM—"What does he say?"
DICK—"Go easy on the butter, kids, it's forty cents a pound."
BILTER (at servants' agency)—"Have you got a cook who will go to the country?"
MANAGER (calling out to girls in next room)—"Is there any one here who would like to spend a day in the country?"—Life.
VISITOR—"You have a fine road leading from the station."
SUBUBS—"That's the path worn by servant-girls."
See alsoCommuters; Servants.
AUNT ETHEL—"Well, Beatrice, were you very brave at the dentist's?"
BEATRICE—"Yes, auntie, I was."
AUNT ETHEL—"Then, there's the half crown I promised you. And now tell me what he did to you."
BEATRICE—"He pulled out two of Willie's teeth!"—Punch.
He was the small son of a bishop, and his mother was teaching him the meaning of courage.
"Supposing," she said, "there were twelve boys in one bedroom, and eleven got into bed at once, while the other knelt down to say his prayers, that boy would show true courage."
"Oh!" said the young hopeful. "I know something that would be more courageous than that! Supposing there were twelve bishops in one bedroom, and one got into bed without saying his prayers!"
Courage, the highest gift, that scorns to bendTo mean devices for a sordid end.Courage—an independent spark from Heaven's bright throne,By which the soul stands raised, triumphant, high, alone.Great in itself, not praises of the crowd,Above all vice, it stoops not to be proud.Courage, the mighty attribute of powers above,By which those great in war, are great in love.The spring of all brave acts is seated here,As falsehoods draw their sordid birth from fear.—Farquhar.
Courage, the highest gift, that scorns to bendTo mean devices for a sordid end.Courage—an independent spark from Heaven's bright throne,By which the soul stands raised, triumphant, high, alone.Great in itself, not praises of the crowd,Above all vice, it stoops not to be proud.Courage, the mighty attribute of powers above,By which those great in war, are great in love.The spring of all brave acts is seated here,As falsehoods draw their sordid birth from fear.
Courage, the highest gift, that scorns to bend
To mean devices for a sordid end.
Courage—an independent spark from Heaven's bright throne,
By which the soul stands raised, triumphant, high, alone.
Great in itself, not praises of the crowd,
Above all vice, it stoops not to be proud.
Courage, the mighty attribute of powers above,
By which those great in war, are great in love.
The spring of all brave acts is seated here,
As falsehoods draw their sordid birth from fear.
—Farquhar.
—Farquhar.
The mayor of a French town had, in accordance with the regulations, to make out a passport for a rich and highly respectable lady of his acquaintance, who, in spite of a slight disfigurement, was very vain of her personal appearance. His native politeness prompted him to gloss over the defect, and, after a moment's reflection, he wrote among the items of personal description: "Eyes dark, beautiful, tender, expressive, but one of them missing."
Mrs. Taft, at a diplomatic dinner, had for a neighbor a distinguished French traveler who boasted a little unduly of his nation's politeness.
"We French," the traveler declared, "are the politest people in the world. Every one acknowledges it. You Americans are a remarkable nation, but the French excel you in politeness. You admit it yourself, don't you?"
Mrs. Taft smiled delicately.
"Yes," she said. "That is our politeness."
Justice Moody was once riding on the platform of a Boston street car standing next to the gate that protected passengers from cars coming on the other track. A Boston lady came to the door of the car and, as it stopped, started toward the gate, which was hidden from her by the man standing before it.
"Other side, lady," said the conductor.
He was ignored as only a born-and-bred Bostonian can ignore a man. The lady took another step toward the gate.
"You must get off the other side," said the conductor.
"I wish to get off on this side," came the answer, in tones that congealed that official. Before he could explain or expostulate Mr. Moody came to his assistance.
"Stand to one side, gentlemen," he remarked quietly. "The lady wishes to climb over the gate."
One day when old Thaddeus Stevens was practicing in the courts he didn't like the ruling of the presiding Judge. A second time when the Judge ruled against "old Thad," the old man got up with scarlet face and quivering lips and commenced tying up his papers as if to quit the courtroom.
"Do I understand, Mr. Stevens," asked the Judge, eying "old Thad" indignantly, "that you wish to show your contempt for this court?"
"No, sir; no, sir," replied "old Thad." "I don't want to show my contempt, sir; I'm trying to conceal it."
"It's all right to fine me, Judge," laughed Barrowdale, after the proceedings were over, "but just the same you were ahead of me in your car, and if I was guilty you were too."
"Ya'as, I know," said the judge with a chuckle, "I found myself guilty and hev jest paid my fine into the treasury same ez you."
"Bully for you!" said Barrowdale. "By the way, do you put these fines back into the roads?"
"No," said the judge. "They go to the trial jestice in loo o' sal'ry."
A stranger came into an Augusta bank the other day and presented a check for which he wanted the equivalent in cash.
"Have to be identified," said the clerk.
The stranger took a bunch of letters from his pocket all addressed to the same name as that on the check.
The clerk shook his head.
The man thought a minute and pulled out his watch, which bore the name on its inside cover.
Clerk hardly glanced at it.
The man dug into his pockets and found one of those "If-I-should-die-tonight-please-notify-my-wife" cards, and called the clerk's attention to the description, which fitted to a T.
But the clerk was still obdurate.
"Those things don't prove anything," he said. "We've got to have the word of a man that we know."
"But, man, I've given you an identification that would convict me of murder in any court in the land."
"That's probably very true," responded the clerk, patiently, "but in matters connected with the bank we have to be more careful."
See alsoJury; Witnesses.
"Do you think a woman believes you when you tell her she is the first girl you ever loved?"
"Yes, if you're the first liar she has ever met."
Augustus Fitzgibbons MoranFell in love with Maria McCann.With a yell and a whoopHe cleared the front stoopJust ahead of her papa's brogan.
Augustus Fitzgibbons MoranFell in love with Maria McCann.With a yell and a whoopHe cleared the front stoopJust ahead of her papa's brogan.
Augustus Fitzgibbons Moran
Fell in love with Maria McCann.
With a yell and a whoop
He cleared the front stoop
Just ahead of her papa's brogan.
SPOONLEIGH—"Does your sister always look under the bed?"
HER LITTLE BROTHER—"Yes, and when you come to see her she always looks under the sofa."—J.J. O'Connell.
There was a young man from the West,Who loved a young lady with zest;So hard did he press herTo make her say, "Yes, sir,"That he broke three cigars in his vest.
There was a young man from the West,Who loved a young lady with zest;So hard did he press herTo make her say, "Yes, sir,"That he broke three cigars in his vest.
There was a young man from the West,
Who loved a young lady with zest;
So hard did he press her
To make her say, "Yes, sir,"
That he broke three cigars in his vest.
"I hope your father does not object to my staying so late," said Mr. Stayput as the clock struck twelve.
"Oh, dear, no," replied Miss Dabbs, with difficulty suppressing a yawn, "He says you save him the expense of a night-watchman."
There was an old monk of Siberia,Whose existence grew drearier and drearier;He burst from his cellWith a hell of a yell,And eloped with the Mother Superior.
There was an old monk of Siberia,Whose existence grew drearier and drearier;He burst from his cellWith a hell of a yell,And eloped with the Mother Superior.
There was an old monk of Siberia,
Whose existence grew drearier and drearier;
He burst from his cell
With a hell of a yell,
And eloped with the Mother Superior.
It was scarcely half-past nine when the rather fierce-looking father of the girl entered the parlor where the timid lover was courting her. The father had his watch in his hand.
"Young man," he said brusquely, "do you know what time it is?"
"Y-y-yes sir," stuttered the frightened lover, as he scrambled out into the hall; "I—I was just going to leave!"
After the beau had made a rapid exit, the father turned to the girl and said in astonishment:
"What was the matter with that fellow? My watch has run down, and I simply wanted to know the time."
"What were you and Mr. Smith talking about in the parlor?" asked her mother. "Oh, we were discussing our kith and kin," replied the young lady.
The mother look dubiously at her daughter, whereupon her little brother, wishing to help his sister, said:
"Yeth they wath, Mother. I heard 'em. Mr. Thmith asked her for a kith and she thaid, 'You kin.'"
During a discussion of the fitness of things in general some one asked: "If a young man takes his best girl to the grand opera, spends $8 on a supper after the performance, and then takes her home in a taxicab, should he kiss her goodnight?"
An old bachelor who was present growled: "I don't think she ought to expect it. Seems to me he has done enough for her."
A young woman who was about to wed decided at the last moment to test her sweetheart. So, selecting the prettiest girl she knew, she said to her, though she knew it was a great risk.
"I'll arrange for Jack to take you out tonight—a walk on the beach in the moonlight, a lobster supper and all that sort of thing—and I want you, in order to put his fidelity to the proof, to ask him for a kiss."
The other girl laughed, blushed and assented. The dangerous plot was carried out. Then the next day the girl in love visited the pretty one and said anxiously:
"Well, did you ask him?"
"No, dear."
"No? Why not?"
"I didn't get a chance. He asked me first."
Uncle Nehemiah, the proprietor of a ramshackle little hotel in Mobile, was aghast at finding a newly arrived guest with his arm around his daughter's waist.
"Mandy, tell that niggah to take his arm from around yo' wais'," he indignantly commanded.
"Tell him you'self," said Amanda. "He's a puffect stranger to me."
"Jack and I have parted forever."
"Good gracious! What does that mean?"
"Means that I'll get a five-pound box of candy in about an hour."
Here's to solitaire with a partner,The only game in which one pair beats three of a kind.
Here's to solitaire with a partner,The only game in which one pair beats three of a kind.
Here's to solitaire with a partner,
The only game in which one pair beats three of a kind.
See alsoLove; Proposals.
Mrs. Hicks was telling some ladies about the burglar scare in her house the night before.
"Yes," she said, "I heard a noise and got up, and there, from under the bed, I saw a man's legs sticking out."
"Mercy!" exclaimed a woman. "The burglar's legs?"
"No, my dear; my husband's legs. He heard the noise, too."
MRS. PECK—"Henry, what would you do if burglars broke into our house some night?"
MR. PECK (valiantly)—"Humph! I should keep perfectly cool, my dear."
And when, a few nights later, burglarsdidbreak in, Henry kept his promise: he hid in the ice-box.
Johnny hasn't been to school long, but he already holds some peculiar views regarding the administration of his particular room.
The other day he came home with a singularly morose look on his usually smiling face.
"Why, Johnny," said his mother, "what's the matter?"
"I ain't going to that old school no more," he fiercely announced.
"Why, Johnny," said his mother reproachfully, "you mustn't talk like that. What's wrong with the school?"
"I ain't goin' there no more," Johnny replied; "an" it's because all th' boys in my room is blamed old cowards!"
"Why, Johnny, Johnny!"
"Yes, they are. There was a boy whisperin' this mornin', an' teacher saw him an' bumped his head on th' desk ever an' ever so many times. An' those big cowards sat there an' didn't say quit nor nothin'. They let that old teacher bang th' head off th' poor little boy, an' they just sat there an' seen her do it!"
"And what did you do, Johnny?"
"I didn't do nothin'—I was the boy!"—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
A negro came running down the lane as though the Old Boy were after him.
"What are you running for, Mose?" called the colonel from the barn.
"I ain't a-runnin' fo'," shouted back Mose. "I'se a-runnin' from!"
Little Willie, being a city boy, had never seen a cow. While on a visit to his grandmother he walked out across the fields with his cousin John. A cow was grazing there, and Willie's curiosity was greatly excited.
"Oh, Cousin John, what is that?" he asked.
"Why, that is only a cow," John replied.
"And what are those things on her head?"
"Horns," answered John.
Before they had gone far the cow mooed long and loud.
Willie was astounded. Looking back, he demanded, in a very fever of interest:
"Which horn did she blow?"
There was an old man who said, "HowShall I flee from this horrible cow?I will sit on this stileAnd continue to smile,Which may soften the heart of that cow."
There was an old man who said, "HowShall I flee from this horrible cow?I will sit on this stileAnd continue to smile,Which may soften the heart of that cow."
There was an old man who said, "How
Shall I flee from this horrible cow?
I will sit on this stile
And continue to smile,
Which may soften the heart of that cow."
FIRST MUSIC CRITIC—"I wasted a whole evening by going to that new pianist's concert last night!"
SECOND MUSIC CRITIC—"Why?"
FIRST MUSIC CRITIC—"His playing was above criticism!"