The Book of Anecdotes and Budget of Fun Part 30

WHY BROTHER d.i.c.kSON LEFT THE CHURCH.

MR. d.i.c.kSON, a colored barber, was shaving one of his customers, a respectable citizen, one morning, when a conversation occurred between them respecting Mr. d.i.c.kson's former connection with a colored church in the place.

"I believe you are connected with the church in ----street, Mr.

d.i.c.kson," said the customer.

"So, Sah, not at all."

"What! are you not a member of the African Church?"

"Not dis year, Sah."

"Why did you leave their communion, Mr. d.i.c.kson? if I may be permitted to ask."

"Why, I tell you, Sah," said Mr. d.i.c.kson, strapping a concave razor on the palm of his hand.

"It was just like dis. I jined dat church in good faif. I gib ten dollars toward de stated preaching ob de Gospel de fus' year, and de peepil all call me Brudder d.i.c.kson. De second year my business not good, and I only gib five dollars. Dat year the church peepil call me Mr.

d.i.c.kson.

"Dis razor hurt you, Sah?"

"No; the razor goes very well."

"Well, Sah, de third year I felt very poor, sickness in my family, and didn't gib nuffin for the preaching. Well, Sah, after dat they call me Old n.i.g.g.e.r d.i.c.kson, and I leff 'em."

So saying, Mr. d.i.c.kson brushed his customer's hair and the gentleman departed, well satisfied with the reason why Mr. d.i.c.kson left the church.

FORESIGHT.

A YOUNG lady in the interior, thinks of going to California to get married, for the reason that she has been told that in that country the men folks "rock the cradle."

VICE VERSA.

WHAT is the difference between an attempted homicide, and a hog butchery? One is an a.s.sault with intent to kill, and the other is a kill with intent to salt.

HUMAN NATURE.

HERE, reader, is a little picture of _one_ kind of "human nature," that, while it will make you laugh, conveys at the same time a lesson not unworthy of heed. The story is of a gentleman traveling through Canada in the winter of 1839, who, after a long day's ride, stopped at a roadside inn called the "Lion Tavern," where the contents of the stage coach, numbering some nine persons, soon gathered round the cheerful fire.

Among the occupants of the room was an ill-looking cur, who had shown its wit by taking up its quarters in so comfortable an apartment. After a few minutes the landlord entered, and observing the dog, remarked:

"Fine dog, that! is he yours, Sir?" appealing to one of the pa.s.sengers.

"No, Sir."

"_Beautiful_ dog! _yours_, Sir?" addressing himself to a second.

"_No!_" was the blunt reply.

"Come here, Pup! Perhaps he is _yours_, Sir?"

"No!" was again the reply.

"Very sagacious animal! Belongs to YOU, I suppose, Sir?"

"No, he doesn't!"

"Then he is _yours_, and you have a treasure in him, Sir?" at the same time throwing the animal a cracker.

"No, Sir, he is not!"

"Oh!" (_with a smile_) "he belongs to _you_, as a matter of course, then?" addressing the last pa.s.senger.

"_Me!_ I wouldn't have him as a gift!"

"Then, you dirty, mean, contemptible whelp, get out!" And with that the host gave him such a kick as sent him howling into the street, amidst the roars of the company.

There was _one_ honest dog in that company, but the two-legged specimen was a little "too sweet to be wholesome."

JOHN KEMBLE.

MOORE mentions in his diary a very amusing anecdote of John Kemble. He was performing one night at some country theatre, in one of his favourite parts, and being interrupted from time to time by the squalling of a child in one of the galleries, he became not a _little_ angry at the rival performance. Walking with solemn step to the front of the stage, and addressing the audience in his most tragic tone, he said:

"Unless _the play_ is stopped, _the child_ can not possibly go on!"

The loud laugh which followed this ridiculous transposition of his meaning, relaxed even the nerves of the immortal Hamlet, and he was compelled to laugh with his auditors.