Among the Humorists and After Dinner Speakers Part 53

"If you don't like it, ma'am, I'll bring you something else,"

suggested the polite negro.

"Oh, it's very nice," responded the lady. "What I object to is that it should be called ice-cream pudding. It's wrongly named. There should be ice cream served with it."

"Yes, ma'am," replied the waiter, "but that's jest our name for it.

Lots o' dishes that way. Dey don't bring you a cottage with cottage pudding, you know."

During a certain cruise the first mate of a s.h.i.+p got to drinking to excess and was intoxicated for several days. One day, after having come out of this state, he examined the log book to see what had pa.s.sed during his period of semi-forgetfulness. He was horrified to find entered in the book for the three days consecutively, "The first mate is drunk to-day." He did not want this to stand as it would hardly be a good recommendation for him to the s.h.i.+p owners and asked the captain to remove the entries.

The captain replied, "It is the truth, is it not?" "Yes, but--"

replied the mate. The captain interrupted him, "If it is the truth, the truth must stand. It is written in ink and can not be removed without injuring the book."

A short time afterward the captain was taken ill and remained so for a week, and it devolved upon the mate to keep the log book. The captain on recovering from his illness got the book to examine it to see how the mate had done his duty. Imagine his consternation when he read in each of the seven days' entries, "The captain is sober to-day."

The captain immediately called the mate and indignantly questioned him in regard to these entries. The mate replied, "It is the truth, is it not?" "Yes, but--" replied the captain. The mate interrupted him, "If it is the truth, the truth must stand, must it not? I have your word that the writing in ink can not be erased."

"It was the first week of his honeymoon," said the hotel barber, "and he came in and sat down near the door to wait his turn. I yelled 'Next' at him two or three times when my chair was vacant, but he was dreaming and didn't hear me. Finally I touched him on the shoulder and told him I was ready for him.

"'What do you want me to do?' he asked.

"'Why, get in the chair if you want anything,' I replied. 'This is a barber shop.'

"'Oh, yes,' he said, and then he got into the chair. He leaned back, so I let the chair down and shaved him. He didn't have a word to say.

When I finished him up he got out of the chair and took the check over to the cas.h.i.+er. He paid and started out. When halfway through the door he stopped.

"'Say,' he said to me, 'what did you do to me?'

"'I shaved you,' I said.

"'Darn the luck,' he replied, 'I wanted a haircut.'"

The little daughter of a homeopathic physician received a ring with a pearl in it on the Christmas tree. Two days later she poked her head tearfully in at the door of her father's office.

"Papa," she sobbed, "Papa, I've lost the little pill out of my ring."

He was from Pittsburg, Pa., and was stopping at the Manhattan Hotel.

He wanted to telephone to a town about thirty miles away. He asked the girl on the switchboard to get him long-distance, and followed it up with asking the price.

"It will cost you 50 cents for three minutes," she said sweetly.

"Fifty cents! Ye G.o.ds!" cried the man. "I don't want to buy stock in the telephone company. I only want to talk a minute or so.

Why--why--out in Pittsburg we can call up all Hades for 50 cents!"

"Yes, I know, sir," replied the girl, "but isn't that within your city limits?"

General St. Clair Mulholland, veteran and historian of the civil war, tells an incident showing the utter worthlessness of Confederate paper money at the close of the war. "Shortly after Lee's surrender," says the General, "I was a short distance from Richmond. The Confederate soldiers were going home to become men of peace again and were thinking about their farms. One had a lame, broken-down horse which he viewed with pride. 'Wish I had him, Jim,' said the other. 'What'll you take for him? I'll give you $20,000 for him.' 'No,' said Jim. 'Give you $50,000.' 'No,' said Jim. 'Give you $100,000,' his friend said.

'Not much,' replied Jim, 'I just gave $120,000 to have him shod.'"

The Magistrate--"You seem to have committed a very grave a.s.sault on the defendant just because he differed from you in an argument."

The Defendant--"There was no help for it, your wors.h.i.+p. The man is a perfect idiot."

The Magistrate--"Well, you must pay a fine of 50 francs and costs, and in future you should try and understand that idiots are human beings, the same as you and I."

Sentimental Young Lady--"Ah Professor! what would this old oak say if it could talk?"

Professor--"It would say, 'I am an elm.'"

"You needn't begin jollying me," said the gruff man to the man who had land to sell. "I'm not a man that can be affected by flattery. When I--"

"That's just what I said to my boss," interrupted the agent. "I told him, when he suggested your name to me, that it was a relief to call on a man who did not expect to be praised and flattered to his face all the time. I tell you, Mr. Grump, this city has mighty few men such as you. Nine men out of ten are simply dying to have some one tell them how great they are, but you are above such weakness. Any one can see that at a glance. I'm glad of it. It's helpful to me to meet a man who rises superior to the petty tactics of the average solicitor.

It's a real and lasting benefit, and an instructive experience."

Ten minutes later, after a few more such comments on the part of the agent, the man who could not be flattered into signing the contract was asking which line his name should be written upon.

Billy Martin, aged four, came to his mother and in great ecstasy exclaimed, "Oh, mother! Louise and Carberry found such a nice dead cat, and they are going to have a funeral, and can I go?" Permission was given, and when Billy returned he was questioned as to the outcome of the funeral.

"They did not have it at all."

"And why not?"

"Mother," was the answer, "the cat was too dead."

The late H. C. Bunner when editor of "Puck," once received a letter accompanying a number of would-be jokes in which the writer asked: "What will you give me for these?" "Ten yards start," was Bunner's generous offer, written beneath the query.

One day Riley was riding on top of a 'bus in London with his friend Casey. He was nearly worn out with several hours' sight-seeing and the bustle and excitement of the London street, the hoi polloi, the Billingsgate and the din and rattle were becoming almost unbearable when they came in sight of Westminster Abbey. Just as they did so, the chimes burst forth in joyous melody, and he said to Casey, "Isn't it sublime? Isn't it glorious to hear those chimes pealing and doesn't it inspire one with renewed vigor?" Casey leaned over, with hand to his ear, and said, "You'll have to speak a little louder, Riley; I can't hear you." Riley continued, "Those magnificent chimes. Do you not hear them pealing? Do they not imbue you with a feeling of almost reverence? Do they not awaken tender memories of the past?" Casey again leaned forward and said, "I can't hear you. You'll have to speak louder." Riley got as close to him as possible and said, "Do you not hear the melodious pealing of the chimes? Do they not recall the salutation of old Trinity on a Sabbath morning? Do they not take you back into the dim vistas of the past when the world was young, and touch your heart with a feeling of pathos?" Casey put his mouth close to Riley's ear and said, "Those d-- bells are making such a racket, Riley, that I can't hear you."