Good Stories Reprinted from the Ladies' Home Journal of Philadelphia Part 23

"Now, boys," he said, "suppose that I was always boasting of my learning--that I knew a good deal o' Latin, for instance, or that my personal appearance was--that I was very good-looking, y' know--what should you say I was?"

Straightforward Boy; "Sure, sir, I'd say you was a liar, sir!"

_Wanted to Give Her Every Chance_

The clerk was most obliging, but the young woman customer was hard to please. Roll after roll of blankets did he patiently take down and show to her; nothing suited.

For some fifteen minutes this mock sale went on, then the young woman said condescendingly, "Well, I don't intend to buy. I was just looking for a friend."

"Wait a moment, madam," cried the clerk. "There is one more blanket left on the shelf. Maybe you will find your friend in it."

_Murder Will Out_

The newly-graduated daughter who had decided to become an artist had returned to her Boston home. "I am glad that your mind has taken a turn toward art, for you know that more is expected of you now than if you lived in Chicago," said her proud parent.

"Yes, Father," she replied dutifully, with downcast eyes.

"And I hope that you will distinguish yourself in more than one way."

"Yes, Father."

"I particularly desire that you become noted as an essayist also,"

continued the ambitious parent.

"Yes, Father," was the still modest reply.

"I have spared neither pains nor expense in your education thus far, but notwithstanding this immense outlay of time and money, if you can think of anything which you believe will add to your equipment for the career which you are about to begin--if you can suggest some other way of refining your taste, please do so. Do you know of anything else, my dear?"

"Yes, Father," and this time the downcast eyes were raised and looked hopefully into his.

"Speak out; never mind the expense."

"Well, Father, I'd like to go this afternoon and see Sullivan thump that yap from the country."

_Taking Mamma at Her Word_

MOTHER: "Ethel, you naughty child, what have you been doing to make Charlie cry so?"

ETHEL: "I've only been sharing my cod-liver oil with him, mamma. You said it was so nice."

_It Was Worse Than Bigotry_

A prisoner was brought before a police magistrate. He looked around and discovered that his clerk was absent. "Here, officer," he said, "what's this man charged with?"

"Bigotry, your Honor," replied the policeman. "He's got three wives."

The magistrate looked at the officer as though astounded at such ignorance. "Why, officer," he said, "that's not bigotry--that's trigonometry."

_A Devotional Turn of Mind_

As the new minister of the village was on his way to evening service he met a rising young man of the place whom he was anxious to have become an active member of the church.

"Good-evening, my young friend," he said solemnly; "do you ever attend a place of worship?" /

"Yes, indeed, sir; regularly, every Sunday night," replied the young fellow with a smile. "I'm on my way to see her now."

_Poor Little Chap_!

A little boy from the slums had been taken out into the country for the first time. After a bit he was found sitting, all by himself, on a high bank, and gazing wistfully out over the hills.

The woman who had made the little excursion possible quietly seated herself at the youngster's side. To her the child turned a radiant face and asked:

"Say, it's dern pretty, ain't it? Is this all in the United States?"

_The Horse Had a Habit_

At an annual series of races "for all comers," the sun was blazing down on a field of hot, excited horses and men, all waiting for a tall, raw-boned beast to yield to the importunities of the starter and get into line.

The patience of the starter was nearly exhausted. "Bring up that horse!" he shouted. "Bring him up!"

The rider of the refractory beast, a youthful Irishman, yelled back; "I can't! This here's been a cab-horse, and he won't start till he hears the door shut, an' I ain't got no door!"

_She Won Her Uncle_

Uncle Harry was a bachelor and not fond of babies. Even winsome four-year-oid Helen failed to win his heart. Every one made too much fuss over the youngster, Uncle Harry declared.

One day Helen's mother was called downstairs and with fear and trembling asked Uncle Harry, who was stretched out on a sofa, if he would keep his eye on Helen. Uncle Harry grunted "Yes," but never stirred from his position--in truth his eyes were tight shut.

By-and-by wee Helen tiptoed over to the sofa and leaning over Uncle Harry softly inquired:

"Feepy?"