Toaster's Handbook Part 52

Our young hopeful came running into the house. His suit was dusty, and there was a b.u.mp on his small brow. But a gleam was in his eye, and he held out a baby tooth.

"How did you pull it?" demanded his mother.

"Oh," he said bravely, "it was easy enough. I just fell down, and the whole world came up and pushed it out."

DENTISTS

The dentist is one who pulls out the teeth of others to obtain employment for his own.

One day little Flora was taken to have an aching tooth removed. That night, while she was saying her prayers, her mother was surprised to hear her say: "And forgive us our debts as we forgive our dentists."--_Everybody's_.

One said a tooth drawer was a kind of unconscionable trade, because his trade was nothing else but to take away those things whereby every man gets his living.--_Haglitt_.

DESCRIPTION

A popular soprano is said to have a voice of fine timbre, a willowy figure, cherry lips, chestnut hair, and hazel eyes. She must have been raised in the lumber regions.--_Ella Hutchison Ellw.a.n.ger_.

DESIGN, DECORATIVE

Harold watched his mother as she folded up an intricate piece of lace she had just crocheted.

"Where did you get the pattern, Mamma?" he questioned.

"Out of my head," she answered lightly.

"Does your head feel better now, Mamma?" he asked anxiously.--_C. Hilton Turvey_.

DESTINATION

A Washington car conductor, born in London and still a c.o.c.kney, has succeeded in extracting thrills from the alphabet--imparting excitement to the names of the national capitol's streets. On a recent Sunday morning he was calling the streets thus:

"Haitch!"

"High!"

"Jay!"

"Kay!"

"h.e.l.l!"

At this point three prim ladies picked up their prayer-books and left the car.--_Lippincott's Magazine_.

Andrew Lang once invited a friend to dinner when he was staying in Marlowe's road, Earl's Court, a street away at the end of that long Cromwell road, which seems to go on forever. The guest was not very sure how to get there, so Lang explained:

"Walk right' along Cromwell road," he said, "till you drop dead and my house is just opposite!"

DETAILS

Charles Frohman was talking to a Philadelphia reporter about the importance of detail.

"Those who work for me," he said, "follow my directions down to the very smallest item. To go wrong in detail, you know, is often to go altogether wrong--like the dissipated husband.

"A dissipated husband as he stood before his house in the small hours searching for his latchkey, muttered to himself:

"'Now which did my wife say--hic--have two whishkies an' get home by 12, or--hic--have twelve whishkies an' get home by 2?'"

DETECTIVES

When Conan Doyle arrived for the first time in Boston he was instantly recognized by the cabman whose vehicle he had engaged. When the great literary man offered to pay his fare the cabman said quite respectfully:

"If you please, sir, I should much prefer a ticket to your lecture. If you should have none with you a visiting-card penciled by yourself would do."

Conan Doyle laughed.

"Tell me," he said, "how did you know who I was, and I will give you tickets for your whole family."

"Thank you sir," was the reply. "Why, we all knew--that is, all the members of the Cabmen's Literary Guild knew--that you were coming by this train. I happen to be the only member on duty at the station this morning. If you will excuse personal remarks your coat lapels are badly twisted downward where they have been grasped by the pertinacious New York reporters. Your hair has the Quakerish cut of a Philadelphia barber, and your hat, battered at the brim in front, shows where you have tightly grasped it in the struggle to stand your ground at a Chicago literary luncheon. Your right overshoe has a large block of Buffalo mud just under the instep, the odor of a Utica cigar hangs about your clothing, and the overcoat itself shows the slovenly brushing of the porters of the through sleepers from Albany, and stenciled upon the very end of the 'Wellington' in fairly plain lettering is your name, 'Conan Doyle.'"