Her Father in Trouble
When Grover Cleveland’s little girl was quite young her father once telephoned to the White House from Chicago and asked Mrs. Cleveland to bring the child to the ‘phone. Lifting the little one up to the instrument, Mrs. Cleveland watched her expression change from bewilderment to wonder and then to fear. it was surely her father’s voice – yet she looked at the telephone incredulously. After examining the tiny opening in the receiver the little girl burst into tears. “Oh, Mamma!” she sobbed. “How can we ever get Papa out of that little hole?”
Wanted a Change
Johnny – “Mama, I wish I had a little sister.”
Mama – “Why do you wish that, dear?”
Johnny – “‘Cause I’m tired of teasin’ the cat.”
He – “Whenever I borrow money I go to a pessimist.”
She – “Why?”
He – “Because a pessimist never expects to get it back again.”
Knicker – “What is a swimming-hole?”
Bocker – “A body of water entirely surrounded by boys.”
On Second Washing
“I’ve just washed out a suit for my little boy – and now it seems too tight for him.”
“He’ll fit it all right, if you’ll wash the boy.”
“O, yes, we have a wonderful climate,” said the man from southern Texas. “Why, only last season we raised a pumpkin so large that, after sawing it in two, my wife used the halves as cradles in which to rock the babies.”
“Yes,” replied the man from New York; “but in my state it’s a common thing to find three full-grown policemen asleep on one beat.”
Not a Requisite
“And do you have to be called in the morning?” asked the lady who was about to engage a new girl.
“I don’t has to be, mum,” replied the applicant, “unless you happens to need me.”
Only His Past Life Tainted
“But why does your father object to me?” demanded the humble suitor.
“Because,” explained the haughty beauty of proud lineage, “Papa says his ancestors have always been gentlemen of leisure, and you have to work for a living.”
“Well, tell him I don’t expect to after we are married,” replied the humble suitor.
Making Use of Him
Lady (to tramp who had been commissioned to find lost poodle) – “The poor little darling, where did you find him?”
Tramp – “Oh, a man ‘ad ‘him, miss, tied to a pole, and was cleaning the windows wiv ‘im!”
“Where are you going in such a hurry, old man?”
“I’m going to consult a lawyer about having my wife indicted for making incendiary speeches.”
“You don’t mean it?”
“Yes, I do. She insists on my getting up and starting a fire every morning.”
“John, I listened to you for half an hour last night, while you were talking in your sleep.”
“Thanks, dear, for your self-restraint.”
“We got forty-eight wedding presents.”
“We are not. Every one came from friends who are engaged to be married.”
“Where am I?” the invalid exclaimed, waking from the long delirium of fever and feeling the comfort that loving hands had supplied. “Where am I – in heaven?”
“No, dear,” cooed his wife; “I am still with you.”
A New Way to Listen
They evidently were spending their first night at the concert, and the young man was telling the young lady all about it. They talked loudly, for the young man was trying to make an impression on all within a ten-foot radius. He always anticipated the performers, and finally held his hand to his mouth as he said in an undertone:
“Dear, did you ever try to listen to music with your eyes closed? It’s heavenly.”
Whereupon, a man two rows behind leaned forward and said: “Young man, try it with your mouth shut. It’ll be a relief.”
Ready for It
The young son had been naughty and had been sent to bed supperless.
Presently when the boy’s mother wasn’t looking, his father slipped upstairs and whispered through the door of the boy’s room: “Son, could you eat some honey in the comb?”
“Dad,” the boy said, “I could eat it in the brush.”
“I understand that after waiting twenty years she married a struggling man?”
“Yes, poor chap. He struggled the best he knew how, but she landed him.”
Both boys had been rude to their mother. She put them to bed earlier than usual, and then complained to their father about them. So he started up the stairway, and they heard him coming.
“Here comes papa,” said Maurice. “I’m going to make believe I’m asleep.”
“I’m not,” said Harry. “I’m going to get up and put something on.”
Nervous Party – “The trains seems to be traveling at a fearful pace, ma’am.”
Elderly Female – “Yes; ain’t it? My Bill’s a-drivin’ of the ingin, an’ ‘e can make ‘er go when ‘e’s got a drop o’ drink in ‘im.”
Little Howard came in the other day crying and rubbing several bumps caused by a series of “butts” administered by a pet sheep.
“Well, Howard,” said his sympathetic auntie, “what did you do when the sheep knocked you down?”
“I didn’t do anything. I was getting up all the time.”
Robert, aged ten, was playing with the other boys on the corner of Nineteenth and Tioga streets, when his mother, who had been listening to his conversation, called him.
“Robert,” she began, in a grieved tone, “I never thought I’d hear you swearing.”
“Why, I wasn’t swearing, mother,” the boy defended himself. “I only said ‘the devil.’ That isn’t swearing.”
“Well,” replied the mother quickly, “maybe it isn’t exactly swearing, but it is making light of sacred things.”
The Bishop and the Druggist
One day a bishop chanced into the shop of a druggist who was very fond of a joke – on somebody else. The druggist wishing to have a joke at the bishop’s expense asked: “Bishop, can you tell me the difference between an ass and a bishop?”
The bishop could not.
“Well,” said the druggist, smiling all over, “an ass carries its cross (burden) upon its back, but a bishop carries his cross (of gold) on his breast.”
“Very good,” replied the bishop, and then continued, “Now, then, my friend, can you tell the difference between an ass and a druggist?”
After some hesitation the druggist answered: “No, sir, I can’t.”
“Neither can I,” retorted the bishop as he walked out.