On the Safe Side
Zealous Sentry: “Afraid I can’t let you go by without the password, sir.”
Irate Officer: “But, confound you! I tell you I have forgotten it. You know me well enough. I’m Major Jones.”
Sentry: “Can’t help it, sir; must have the password.”
Voice from the guard-tent: “Oh, don’t stand arguing all night, Bill; shoot ‘im.”
A little girl traveling in a sleeping-car with her parents greatly objected to being put in an upper berth. She was assured that papa, mama, and god would watch over her. She was settled in the berth at last and the passengers were quiet for the night, when a small voice piped:
“Yes, I’m here. Now go to sleep.”
“Papa, you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Go to sleep like a good girl.”
This continued at intervals for some time until a fellow passenger lost patience and called:
“We’re all here! Your father and mother and brothers and sisters, and uncles and aunts and first cousins. All here. Now go to sleep!”
There was a brief pause after this explosion. Then the tiny voice piped up again, but very softly:
“Was that God?”
Where Analogy Fails
A little boy began to keep a diary, and his first entry was:
“Got up this morning at seven o’clock.”
He showed the entry to his mother, and she said, reprovingly:
“Have you been to school? ‘Got up’ indeed! Such an expression! Does the sun get up? No, it rises!” – and she scratched out, “Got up at seven,” and wrote “Rose at seven” in its place.
That night the boy, before retiring, completed the entry for the day with the sentence:
“Set at eight o’clock!”
The Lesser Evil
“I can give you a cold bite,” said the woman.
“Why not warm it up?” asked the tramp.
“There ain’t any wood sawed.”
“So? Well, give it to me cold.”
Averse to Slang
Just to show how much averse to slang he was, a small boy in a Chicago school explained to the teacher one day that he had been walking with a friend, but neglected to take off his hat when they met a lady both knew. His friend had nudged him and whispered:
“Take off your lid, you simp!”
“What he should have said,” exclaimed the boy, “was, ‘Remove your hat, you nut!’”
The general sentiment is summed up in the words of a small boy, who ventured this:
“Anyway, it’s only roughnecks who use slang nowadays.”
“Thump-rattlety-bang!” went the piano.
“What are you trying to play, Jane?” called out her father from the next room.
“It’s an exercise from my new instruction-book. ‘First Steps in Music,’” she answered.
“Well, I knew you were playing with your feet,” he said, grimly; “but don’t step so heavily on the keys – it disturbs my thoughts.”
A Long View
Ted Brown, an American, was touring Scotland, and one afternoon mounted a high hill in company with a Scot who began bragging of the extensive view.
“I suppose you can see America from here on a fine day,” said the American, jocosely.
“Oh, ay, farther than that,” replied the other.
“Farther than that?”
“Ay! On a fine nicht we can see the mune.”
Little Bert was sent to the store by his mother to get some flypaper. He was a long time in returning and the mother began to get anxious.
Going to the door, she espied him coming up the street and called to him: “Bert, have you got the flypaper?”
“No, mother,” replied Bert, it’s got me; but we’re coming together.”
“Mother,” said a little boy, returning from Sunday School, “I can’t understand the text we had to study this morning: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’ What does it mean?”
“Mother would rather you thought the matter out for yourself, dear. Think about it awhile; then, if you can’t understand, come to me.”
Half an hour later mother inquired:
“Do you understand what ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive’ means now, dear?”
“Yes, mother, I think so. The Bible must be speaking of castor oil.”
Small Boy: “Good fishin’? Yessir; ye go down that private road till ye come to th’ sign ‘Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted,’ cross the field with th’ bull in it an’ you’ll see a sign ‘No Fishing Allowed’ – that’s it.”
Where She Drew the Line
The maid of all work in the service of a provincial family, the members whereof are not on the most amicable terms, recently tendered her resignation, much to the distress of the lady of the house.
“So you are going to leave us?” asked the mistress sadly. “What’s the matter, Mary? haven’t we always treated you like one of the family?”
“Yis, mum,” said Mary; “an’ I’ve shtood it as long as I’m going to!”
A Fair Crop
John K. Kimble, secretary of the Farmers’ national congress, said the other day at Port Deposit:
“Such crops as we may happen to have this year bring to mind an Abe Lincoln story. A farmer once told Lincoln a whopping big fib about his hay crops. Lincoln, smiling his melancholy smile, drawled:
“‘I’ve been cutting hay, too.’
“‘Good crop?’ the farmer asked.
“‘Fine, very fine,’ said Lincoln.
“‘How many tons?”
“‘Well, I don’t just know how many tons,’ said Lincoln, carelessly, ‘but my men stacked all they could outdoors and then stored the rest in the barn.’”
Joseph and Isaac went to hear Billy Sunday preach, and after the service, as they were going home, Joseph said:
“Vell, Izaac, vat you tink of him?”
“I didn’t like him,” said Isaac. “Too much hell! It was hell, hell, hell all the time. And I don’t believe there is any hell, Joseph.”
“No hell?” asked Joseph in amazement.
“No,” answered the friend.
“Vell, then, Izaac,” said Joseph, “if there is no hell, where is bisness gone?”