Harper's Round Table, October 1, 1895 - novelonlinefull.com
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My sister screws her face up At all times when she cries; But she can't make it ugly However hard she tries.
BOBBY. "If you fell overboard while on an ocean steamer, what would you do?"
JACK (_four years old_). "I'd go to sleep on one of the ocean's pillows."
NOT A QUESTION OF POVERTY.
"Speaking about little folks," remarked the B shop, after the dry-goods man had gotten through with his story of the bright thing which his little four-year-old daughter had said at dinner that day--"speaking of smart little folks, I had an experience with one quite a good many years ago. It was when I was candidating for my first parish that I preached at a little village down in Pennsylvania. I was entertained at the home of one of the wardens. As I look back at that sermon now it must have been pretty vealy, but I was well pleased with it then, and my host praised it so enthusiastically on the way home that I felt tolerably sure of an invitation to occupy the rectory.
"My host had a bright little five-year-old daughter, and she and I got to be pretty good friends. While I was waiting for the depot wagon to come and bear me away from the scene of my triumph, the next morning, the little girl suddenly ran up to me with her little tin savings-bank.
The dear little thing wanted me to open the bank and take one-half of the money for myself. I thanked her and declined.
"What makes you think I need the money, dear?" I asked.
"Why, nuffin much, only when papa came home from church yesterday I heard him tell mamma that you was a _mighty poor preacher_."
TEACHER. "Astronomy is a wonderful science, Harry. Men have learned through it not only how far off the stars are from the earth, but what they are made of."
HARRY. "It seems to me a great deal more wonderful how they found out their names."
PAPA. "Are you sorry you hit Wilbur?"
BOBBY. "Yes, papa, and he is sorry too."
A GENEROUS LAD.
"Tommy!"
No answer.
"Tom-mee!!"
"Well?"
"What are you doing to your brother Willie?"
"Nothin'."
"Yes, you are. You are making him cry."
"No, I ain't--I'm bein' generous. I'm givin' him half o' my codliver-oil."
A VERY GOOD REASON.
"Wisht I was a codfish," said Jack.
"Why do you wish that?" asked his mother.
"They don't have to take codliver-oil. They're born with all they need already inside of 'em," said Jack.
