“They say,” remarked Mr. Penn, “the streets in Boston are frightfully crooked.”
“They are,” replied Mr. Hubb. “Why, do you know, when I first went there I could hardly find my way around.”
“That must be embarrassing.”
“It is. The first week I was there I wanted to get rid of an old cat we had, and my wife got me to take it to the river a mile away.”
“And you lost the cat all right?”
“Lost nothing! I never would have found my way home if I hadn’t followed the cat!”
Doris was radiant over a recent addition to the family, and rushed out of the house to tell the news to a passing neighbor.
“Oh, you don’t know what we’ve got upstairs.”
“What is it?” the neighbor asked.
“A new baby brother,” said Doris, and she watched very closely the effect of her announcement.
“You don’t say so,” the neighbor exclaimed. “Is he going to stay?”
“I think so,” said Doris. “He’s got his things off.”
In a trench over in Flanders, during a slight lull in the engagement, a soldier was making an impromptu toilet. He lowered his head for an instant and thereby caught a cootie. As he did so, a shell fragment flew by, just where his head had been. He held the cootie in hand meditatively for a moment, and then said:
“Old fellow, Oi cawnt give you the Victoria Cross, but I can put you back!”
One of the ladies who first introduced interpretative dancing—whatever that is—into this country has fleshened up considerably since the days of her initial terpsichorean triumphs among the society folk along the eastern sea-board. Nevertheless, she continues to give performances to select audiences of artistic souls.
Not long ago Finley Peter Dunne, the humorist, was lured to one of these entertainments. The lady, wearing very few clothes, and, as a result of their lack, looking even plumper than usual, danced in an effect of moonlight calcium beams.
As Dunne was leaving, one of the patronesses hailed him.
“Oh, Mr. Dunne,” she twittered, “how did you enjoy the madame’s dancing?”
“Immensely,” said Dunne. “Made me think of Grant’s Tomb in love.”
The wonders of modern science never cease to be of absorbing interest and even the following story, which is supposed to take place in the near future, may be more realistic than we now think possible, although it is rather hard on our good friends the doctors.
“Be seated, sir,” said the distinguished practitioner.
The man who had entered the doctor’s office a few moments before in obedience to the invitation sank into a luxurious chair. The doctor looked at him casually, and, touching an indicator at the side of his desk, said: