More Toasts Part 19

"'Wot's this here feller charged with?' the magistrate demanded.

"'Bigotry, judge,' the police answered. 'He's got three wives.'

"'Three!' cried the magistrate. 'Why, you ignoramus, that ain't bigotry. That's trigonometry!'"

"I left my money at home," said the lady on the train to the conductor. "You will have to trust me. I am one of the directors'

wives."

"I am sorry, madam," replied the conductor. "I can't do that, even if you were the director's only wife."

BILLS

COLLECTOR--"Did you look at that little bill I left yesterday, sir?"

HOUSE MEMBER--"Yes; it has pa.s.sed the first reading."

Daniel Webster was once sued by his butcher for a bill of long standing. Before his suit was settled he met the butcher on the street and, to the man's great embarra.s.sment, stopped to ask why he had ceased sending around for his order.

"Why, Mr. Webster," said the tradesman, "I did not think you would want to deal with me when I've brought suit against you."

"Tut! tut!" said Mr. Webster, "sue me all you wish, but for heaven's sake don't try to starve me to death!"

"My doctor told me I would have to quit eating so much meat."

"Did you laugh him to scorn?'"

"I did at first; but when he sent in his bill, I found he was right."

TOMMY--"Why do the ducks dive?"

HARP--"Guess they must want to liquidate their bills."

Bill Sprague kept a general store at Croyden Four Corners. One day he set off for New York to buy a lot of goods. The goods were shipped immediately; and as Bill had lingered in New York sightseeing, they reached Croyden Four Corners before him. The goods in an enormous packing-case were driven to the general store by the local teamster.

Mrs. Sprague came out to see what had arrived and, with a shriek, tottered and fell.

"Oh, what's the matter, ma'am?" cried the hired girl.

Mrs Sprague, her eyes blinded with tears, pointed to the packing-case, whereon was stenciled in large black letters: "BILL INSIDE."

When you do not intend to pay a bill there is nothing like being decisive in your refusal. The other day a bookseller had an "account rendered" returned to him with the following reply scrawled across the billhead: "Dear Sir--I never ordered this beastly book. If I did, you didn't send it. If you sent it, I never got it. If I got it, I paid for it. If I didn't, I won't. Now go and hang yourself, you fathead.--Yours very respectfully, John Jones."

PATIENT--"Doctor, what I need is something to stir me up--something to put me in fighting-trim. Did you put anything like that in this prescription?"

DOCTOR--"No. You will find that in the bill."--_Judge_.

_See also_ Debts; Collecting of accounts.

BLUFFING

VISITOR (at private hospital)--"Can I see Lieutenant Barker, please?"

MATRON--"We do not allow ordinary visiting. May I ask if you're a relative?"

VISITOR (boldly)--"Oh, yes! I'm his sister."

MATRON--"Dear me! I'm very glad to meet you. I'm his mother."--_Punch_.

Yes, life's like poker sure enough. It pays to know just when to bluff.

Half-way up the steep hill the stage-coach stopped. For the seventh time the driver climbed down from his seat and opened and slammed the rear door.

"What do you do that for?" asked a pa.s.senger, whose curiosity had got the better of him.

"Sh-h; spake aisy. Don't let th' mare 'ear yer," cautioned the driver.

"Every toime she 'ears th' door shut she thinks some one has got down, and it starrts 'er up quicker loike."

Ollie James is a big man personally and politically. He is a United States senator from Kentucky, and he weighs a trifle more than three hundred and fifty pounds.

On one occasion, in traveling from New York to Washington, he barely caught the midnight train, and discovered that the only berth left was an upper. Having learned from experience that the process of coiling up his three hundred and fifty pounds and his six feet three inches in an upper berth was tough stuff, he was indignant. He was particularly enraged when he noticed that the lower directly under his berth was occupied by a small man who tipped the scales at not more than a hundred and twenty.

Ollie grasped the curtains of the berth, shook them vigorously, growled once or twice, and remarked vindictively to the porter:

"So I've got to sleep in an upper, have I? The last time I did that it was on a trip from Frankfort to Washington, and the blamed thing broke down and mashed the man under me. Throw that grip up there, and I hope to Heaven the berth will hold me."

Then he went back to the smoker and had a cigar.

When he returned, the little man was in the upper.