Best Short Stories Part 14

"Perhaps you've heard of a man named Walter Scott. As his name implies, he was born in Scotland. He wrote books, you know--novels, stories.

Rather good, eh? Human interest--wholesome reading--and all that sort of thing."

"Don't recall him."

The slight man rose up in his seat. He bore down hard upon the stranger.

"Possibly," he suggested, "in the course of your deep and intimate intercourse with men and affairs, you may recall the name of an individual named Shakespeare."

"Yes, I think I remember."

"How about Macaulay, the greatest essayist in England, and Homer, the prince of ancient poets, with seven birthplaces? Then there's Emerson and Longfellow and Goethe and--"

He paused and grabbed the other man by the collar.

"My friend," he said, "you don't seem interested in the world's greatest authors. May I inquire what your occupation in life is?"

The other man nodded gravely, even austerely.

"Certainly, sir," he replied. "I'm a holiday salesman in Bunc.u.m's Department Store Book Shop."

ONE ON HIM

The code of manners enjoyed by the Germans needs scarcely any further illumination, but the following incident may serve as further light upon this threadbare subject.

A physician boarded a crowded crosstown car. A woman was standing, and a big German seated, sprawling over twice the s.p.a.ce necessary. Indignantly the doctor said to him:

"See here! Why don't you move a little so that this tired woman may have a seat?"

For a moment the German looked dazed. Then a broad smile spread over his countenance as he answered:

"Say, dot's a joke on you, all right! Dot's my vife!"

REVEALED

In view of the spirit of comradeship shown between officers and men, this story is at least open to question, but it may have happened in some former war.

The lieutenant was instructing the squad in visional training.

"Tell me, Number One," he said, "how many men are there in that trench-digging party over there?"

"Thirty men and one officer," was the prompt reply.

"Quite right," observed the lieutenant, after a pause. "But how do you know one is an officer at this distance?"

"'Cos he's the only one not working, sir."

DIAGNOSING HIMSELF

The officer of the day, during his tour of duty, paused to question a sentry who was a new recruit.

"If you should see an armed party approaching, what would you do?" asked the officer.

"Turn out the guard, sir."

"Very well. Suppose you saw a battleship coming across the parade-ground, what would you do?"

"Report to the hospital for examination, sir," was the prompt reply.

IN OUR MELTING POT

During a political campaign in New York a Tammany leader on the East Side, a self-made man and one not entirely completed yet in some respects, was addressing a ma.s.s meeting of Italian-born voters on behalf of the Democratic ticket.

"Gintlemen and fellow citizens," he began, "I deem it an honor to be permitted to address you upon the issues of the day. I have always had a deep admiration for your native land. I vinerate the mimory of that great, that n.o.ble Eyetalian who was the original and first discoverer of this here land of ours.

"Why, gintlemen, at me mother's knee I was taught to sing that inspirin'

song: 'Columbus, the Jim of the Ocean'!"

Whereupon there was loud applause.

GIVE HIM TIME

Mr. Johnsing had an enthusiastic admirer in Little Eph Jones.

"Yes, suh," he concluded one of his eulogies, "Mistuh Johnsing is the biggest man what evuh was."

"Bigger than General Grant?" queried the white man to whom he was talking.

"Suttinly Mistuh Johnsing is a bigguh man than General Grant," affirmed Eph.

"Bigger than President Wilson?"

"Of co'se he's bigguh than President Wilson."

"Bigger than G.o.d?"

"Well--well--" stammered Eph. "You see, Mistuh Johnsing's young yet."

A BAY STATE SOLOMON

Unfortunately we've mislaid the judge's name, but his court room is in New Bedford, Ma.s.s. Before him appeared a defendant who, hoping for leniency, pleaded, "Judge, I'm down and out."

Whereupon said the wise judge: "You're down but you're not out. Six months."