Among the Humorists and After Dinner Speakers, Vol. 1

not here to speak of his literary reputation,but simply to (a long pause) back up his moral character."

  * * * * *

  A Lancashire vicar was asked by the choir to call upon old Betty, whowas deaf, but who insisted in joining in the solo of the anthem, andto ask her only to sing in the hymns. He shouted into her ear: "Betty!I've been requested to speak to you about your singing." At last shecaught the word "singing," and replied: "Not to me be the praise, sir;it's a gift."

  * * * * *

  The proprietor of a large drug store recently received this curt andhaughty note written in an angular, feminine hand: "I do not wantvasioline, but glisserine. Is that plain enough? I persoom you canspell."

  * * * * *

  It was in a Maine Sunday-school that a teacher recently asked aChinese pupil she was teaching to read if he understood the meaning ofthe words "an old cow."

  "Been cow a long time," was the prompt answer.

  * * * * *

  Upon moving into a new neighborhood the small boy of the family wascautioned not to fight with his new acquaintances. One day Willie camehome with a black eye and very much spattered with dirt.

  "Why, Willie," said mama, "I thought I told you to count a hundredbefore you fought!"

  "I did, mama," said Willie, "and look what Tommy Smith did while I wascounting!"

  * * * * *

  "The rolling stone gathers no moss," quoted the man who had never beenoutside his home county.

  "True," rejoined the globe-trotter, "but it acquires an enviablepolish."

  * * * * *

  Curate (who is going to describe his little holiday in Lucerne)--"Mydear friends--I will not call you ladies and gentlemen, since I knowyou too well."

  * * * * *

  Daniel Purcell, the famous punster, was desired to make a punextempore.

  "Upon what subject?" said Daniel.

  "The king," answered the other.

  "Oh! sir," said he "the king is no subject."

  * * * * *

  Illustrative of "that troublesome Henglish haitch" an Americantraveler relates the following:

  Once I dined with an English farmer. We had ham--very delicious bakedham. The farmer's son soon finished his portion and passed his plateagain.

  "More 'am, father," he said.

  The farmer frowned.

  "Don't say 'am, son. Say _'am_."

  "I did say 'am," the lad protested in an injured tone.

  "You said _'am_," cried the father fiercely. "'Am's what it should be.'Am, not _'am_."

  In the middle of the squabble the farmer's wife turned to me and, witha deprecatory little laugh, explained:

  "They both think they're sayin' 'am, sir."

  * * * * *

  Passing along Princes Street, Edinburgh, one day a herculean ScotsGrey stopped at the post-office and called on a street arab to polishhis boots. The feet of the dragoon were in proportion to his heightand, looking at the tremendous boots before him, the arab knelt downon the pavement and shouted out to his chum across the road, "Jamie,come ower an' gie's a hand, I've got an army contract."

  * * * * *

  The younger man had been complaining that he could not get his wife tomend his clothes.

  "I asked her to sew a button on this vest last night, and she hasn'ttouched it," he said. At this the older man assumed the air of apatriarch.

  "Never ask a woman to mend anything," he said. "You haven't beenmarried very long, and I think I can give you some serviceablesuggestions. When I want a shirt mended I take it to my wife, flourishit around a little and say, 'Where's that rag-bag?'

  "'What do you want of the rag-bag?' asks my wife. Her suspicions areroused at once.

  "'I want to throw this shirt away; it's worn out,' I say, with a fewmore flourishes.

  "'Let me see that shirt,' my wife says then. 'Now, John, hand it to meat once.'

  "Of course, I pass it over, and she examines it. 'Why, John Taylor,'she is sure to say, 'I never knew such extravagance! This is aperfectly good shirt. All it needs is----' And then she mends it."

  * * * * *

  A browbeating counsel asked a witness how far he had been from acertain place. "Just four yards, two feet, and six inches," was thereply. "How come you to be so exact, my friend?" "I expected some foolor other would ask me, so I measured it."

  * * * * *

  "Now, see here, porter," said the drummer briskly, "I want you to putme off at Syracuse. You know we get in there about six o'clock in themorning, and I may over-sleep myself. But it is important that Ishould get out. Here's a five-dollar gold piece. Now, I may wake uphard. Don't mind if I kick. Pay no attention if I'm ugly. I want youto put me off the train no matter how hard I fight. Understand?"

  "Yes, sah," answered the sturdy Nubian. "It shall be did, sah!"

  The next morning the coin-giver was awakened by a stentorian voicecalling: "Rochester!"

  "Rochester!" he exclaimed, sitting up. "Where's that porter?"

  Hastily slipping on his trousers, he went in search of the negro, andfound him in the porter's closet, huddled up, with his head in abandage, his clothes torn, and his arm in a sling.

  "Well," said the drummer, "you are a sight. Why didn't you put me offat Syracuse?"

  "Wha-at!" gasped the porter, jumping up, as his eyes bulged from hishead. "Was you de gemman dat give me a five-dollah gold piece?"

  "Of course I was, you idiot!"

  "Well, den, befoah de Lawd, who was dat gemman I put off at Syracuse?"

  * * * * *

  A right reverend prelate, himself a man of extreme good-nature, wasfrequently much vexed in spirit by the proud, froward, perverse, anduntractable temper of his next vicar. The latter, after an absencemuch longer than usual, one day paid a visit to the bishop, who kindlyinquired the cause of his absence, and was answered by the vicar thathe had been confined to his house for some time past by an obstinatestiffness in his knee. "I am glad of that," replied the prelate; "'tisa good symptom that the disorder has changed place, for I had a longtime thought it immovably settled in your neck."

  * * * * *

  Bride--"George, dear, when we reach our destination let us try toavoid giving the impression that we are newly married."

  George--"All right, Maud; you can carry the suitcase and umbrellas."

  * * * * *

  Francis Wilson was speaking at the Players Club of New York City, notlong ago, of the all too prevalent ignorance of dramatic literature inthe country to-day.

  "Why," said Mr. Wilson, "a company was playing 'She Stoops toConquer' in a small Western town last winter when a man without anymoney, wishing to see the show, stepped up to the box office and said:

  "'Pass me in, please.'

  "The box office man gave a loud, harsh laugh.

  "'Pass you in? What for?' he asked.

  "The applicant drew himself up and answered, haughtily: 'What for?Why, because I am Oliver Goldsmith, author of the play.'

  "'Oh, I beg your pardon, sir,' replied the other in a meek voice, ashe hurriedly wrote an order for a box."

  * * * * *

  Lady Bountiful--"All I can say is, Jenkins, that if these peopleinsist on building these horrid little villas near my gates, I shallleave the place."

  Jenkins--"Exactly what I told them at the meeting, your ladyship. Isaid, 'Do you want to drive away the goose that lays the goldeneggs?'"

  * * * * *

  Old Lady (to conductor--her first drive on an electric tram).--"Wouldit be dangerous, conductor, if I was to put my foot on the rail?"

  Conductor (an Edison manque).--"No, mum, not unless you was to put theother one on the ov
erhead wire!"

  * * * * *

  After a few weeks at boarding-school Alice wrote home as follows:

  "_Dear Father_--Though I was homesick at first, now that I am gettingacquainted, I like the school very much. Last evening Grayce andKathryn (my roommates) and I had a nice little chafing-dish party,and we invited three other girls, Mayme and Carrye Miller and EdythKent. I hope you are all well at home. I can't write any more now forI have a lot of studying to do. With lots