Among the Humorists and After Dinner Speakers Part 27

"I can't keep the visitors from coming up," said the office-boy dejectedly to the editor. "When I say you're out they don't believe me. They say they must see you."

"Well," said the editor, "just tell them that's what they all say. I don't care if you 'cheek' them, but I must have quietness."

That afternoon there called at the office a lady. She wanted to see the editor, and the boy a.s.sured her that it was impossible.

"But I must see him!" she protested. "I'm his wife!"

"That's what they all say," replied the boy. And forthwith a new boy was wanted there.

Mr. Weedon Grossmith used to tell a good story about a play by Mr.

Robert Ganthony, which that gentleman asked him to read. Mr. Grossmith took the comedy, but lost it on his way home. "Night after night," he said, "I would meet Ganthony and he would ask me how I liked his play.

It was awful; the perspiration used to come out on my forehead as I'd say sometimes, 'I haven't had time to look at it yet!' or again, 'The first act was good, but I can't stop to explain,' etc., 'must catch a train.' That play was the bane of my existence, and haunted me even in my dreams." Some months pa.s.sed, and Ganthony, a merry wag, still pursued him without mercy. At last it occurred to Mr. Grossmith that he might have left the comedy in the cab on the night it was given to him. He inquired at Scotland Yard.

"Oh! yes," was the reply. "Play marked with Mr. Ganthony's name, sent back to owner four months ago, as soon as found."

Some years ago when Head Consul Book, of the Western Jurisdiction, Woodmen of the World, was traveling through the South, the train stopped for some time in a small town, and Mr. Book alighted to make a purchase. The storekeeper could not make the correct change for the bill which was presented, so Mr. Book started in search of some one who could.

Sitting beside the door, whittling a stick, was an old darky.

"Uncle," said Mr. Book, "can you change a ten-dollar bill?" The old fellow looked up in surprise; then he touched his cap, and replied: "'Deed, an' Ah can't, boss, but Ah' 'preciates de honah, jest de same."

A gentleman riding with an Irishman came within sight of an old gallows and, to display his wit, said:

"Pat, do you see that?"

"To be sure Oi do," replied Pat.

"And where would you be to-day if the gallows had its due?"

"Oi'd be riding alone," replied Pat.

Jerry O'Rafferty came from the north of Ireland. During all his life there and later in Chicago he had never been inside a Catholic Church.

He was something of a scoffer at religious ceremonies, although he knew little about them. His good friend, Michael O'Brien, was troubled at this, and always used his influence to get Jerry into the church.

At last he was successful. Jerry grudgingly consented to go to church Easter Sunday because of the importance of the occasion.

The two sat together, Jerry an interested spectator, while Mike entered into the services like the devout man he was.

Jerry was soon evidently impressed by the splendor of his surroundings and the grandeur of the services. He watched the lighting of the candles and listened attentively to the glorious burst of Easter music. Then he could refrain from commenting no longer.

"Mike," he whispered, leaning over to his companion, "this bates h--l."

"Whist," replied Mike, in a loud whisper, "sich is the intintion."

Bishop Wilmer of Alabama, famous as a story-teller, told of one of his friends who had lost a dearly beloved wife and, in his sorrow, caused these words to be inscribed on her tombstone: "The light of mine eyes has gone out." The bereaved married within a year. Shortly afterward the Bishop was walking through the graveyard with another gentleman.

When they arrived at the tomb, the latter asked the Bishop what he would say of the present state of affairs, in view of the words on the tombstone. "I think," said the Bishop, "the words 'But I have struck another match' should be added."

A man of letters who visited Washington recently appeared at but one dinner-party during his stay. Then he sat next to the daughter of a noted naval officer. Her vocabulary is of a kind peculiar to very young girls, but she rattled away at the famous man without a moment's respite. It was during a pause in the general conversation that she said to him: "I'm awfully stuck on Shakespeare. Don't you think he's terribly interesting?" Everybody listened to hear the great man's brilliant reply, for as a Shakespearian scholar he has few peers.

"Yes," he said, solemnly, "I do think he is interesting. I think he is more than that. I think Shakespeare is just simply too cute for anything."

A well-known Scotch professor was occasionally called up to Balmoral to attend the late Queen Victoria, and was extremely proud of the honor. One day a notice appeared in the university which stated that Professor ---- could not attend his cla.s.ses that day as he had been called up to Balmoral to see the Queen. A waggish student who saw the notice wrote underneath it, "G.o.d save the Queen."

"The other day," said a man pa.s.senger in a street-car, "I saw a woman in a street-car open a satchel and take out a purse, close the satchel and open the purse, take out a dime and close the purse, open the satchel and put in the purse. Then she gave the dime to the conductor and took a nickel in exchange. Then she opened the satchel and took out the purse, closed the satchel and opened the purse, put in the nickel and closed the purse, opened the satchel and put in the purse, closed the satchel and locked both ends. Then she felt to see if her back hair was all right, and it was all right, and she was all right.

That was a woman."

As a couple of callers were in the parlor of a friend who is a firm Christian Scientist, the voice of five-year-old Florence could be heard from an upper room, fretting. Upon their inquiries about her the mother replied simply she was suffering from a "belief" in a boil.

One of the visitors was a rather grim great-aunt of the family who possesses a most lively scorn of Mrs. Eddy's so-called science as well as a deep-rooted affection for little Florence. She immediately demanded what had been applied for her relief and as naturally the answer was, "Nothing." She a.s.sumed her most decided expression, drew off her gloves and started upstairs.

"Aunt Molly, what are you going to do? I must repeat it is only a belief in a boil," expostulated the mother.

"Very well," retorted Aunt Molly, continuing her march upstairs, "I am merely going to put on a dream of a poultice."

And she did.

Mistress--"Did the fisherman who stopped here this morning have frog's legs?"

Nora--"Sure, mum, I dinnaw. He wore pants."

When the thermometer dropped below zero Mrs. Rogers was much disturbed by the thought that Huldah, the new kitchen maid, slept in an unheated room.

"Huldah," she said, remembering the good old custom of her girlhood, "it's going to be pretty cold to-night. I think you had better take a flatiron to bed with you."

"Yes, ma'am," a.s.sented Huldah without enthusiasm.