“See here! Why don’t you move a little so that this tired woman may have a seat?”
For a moment the German looked dazed. Then a broad smile spread over his countenance as he answered:
“Say, dot’s a joke on you, all right! Dot’s my vife!”
In view of the spirit of comradeship shown between officers and men, this story is at least open to question, but it may have happened in some former war.
The lieutenant was instructing the squad in visional training.
“Tell me, Number One,” he said, “how many men are there in that trench-digging party over there?”
“Thirty men and one officer,” was the prompt reply.
“Quite right,” observed the lieutenant, after a pause. “But how do you know one is an officer at this distance?”
“’Cos he’s the only one not working, sir.”
The officer of the day, during his tour of duty, paused to question a sentry who was a new recruit.
“If you should see an armed party approaching, what would you do?” asked the officer.
“Turn out the guard, sir.”
“Very well. Suppose you saw a battleship coming across the parade-ground, what would you do?”
“Report to the hospital for examination, sir,” was the prompt reply.
During a political campaign in New York a Tammany leader on the East Side, a self-made man and one not entirely completed yet in some respects, was addressing a mass meeting of Italian-born voters on behalf of the Democratic ticket.
“Gintlemen and fellow citizens,” he began, “I deem it an honor to be permitted to address you upon the issues of the day. I have always had a deep admiration for your native land. I vinerate the mimory of that great, that noble Eyetalian who was the original and first discoverer of this here land of ours.
“Why, gintlemen, at me mother’s knee I was taught to sing that inspirin’ song: ’Columbus, the Jim of the Ocean’!”
Whereupon there was loud applause.
Mr. Johnsing had an enthusiastic admirer in Little Eph Jones.
“Yes, suh,” he concluded one of his eulogies, “Mistuh Johnsing is the biggest man what evuh was.”
“Bigger than General Grant?” queried the white man to whom he was talking.
“Suttinly Mistuh Johnsing is a bigguh man than General Grant,” affirmed Eph.
“Bigger than President Wilson?”
“Of co’se he’s bigguh than President Wilson.”
“Bigger than God?”
“Well—well—” stammered Eph. “You see, Mistuh Johnsing’s young yet.”