Unfortunately we’ve mislaid the judge’s name, but his court room is in New Bedford, Mass. Before him appeared a defendant who, hoping for leniency, pleaded, “Judge, I’m down and out.”
Whereupon said the wise judge: “You’re down but you’re not out. Six months.”
Availing herself of her ecclesiastical privileges, the clergyman’s wife asked questions which, coming from anybody else, would have been thought impertinent.
“I presume you carry a memento of some kind in that locket you wear?” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” said the parishioner. “It is a lock of my husband’s hair.”
“But your husband is still alive!” the lady exclaimed.
“Yes, ma’am, but his hair is gone.”
The Germans will be immensely hated after this war. They will be the pariahs of the future.
Already we see signs of German hatred everywhere. At a reception the other night in a neutral city, the guest of honor said to a man who had just been presented to her:
“You are a foreigner, are you not? Where do you come from?”
“From Berlin, ma’am,” he answered.
The lady stared at him through her lorgnette.
“Dear me!” she said. “Couldn’t you go back and come from somewhere else?”
They were two sweet young American girls, able, beautiful, versatile, patriotic to the core, rushed to death. And one of them said breathlessly:
“What have you been doing?”
And the other one as breathlessly replied:
“Doing! My dear, I hate to tell you. I got up at six. I drove a car forty miles to camp. I knitted a sweater and a pair of socks in between. I went to a Red Cross meeting. I acted as bridesmaid. I read a book on the war. I took a last lesson in first aid. I canned eighty cans of vegetables and, oh—!”
“Do tell me!”
“Why, will you believe me, I have been so busy all day that I almost forgot to get married!”
A well-known society performer volunteered to entertain a roomful of patients of the Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum, and made up a very successful little monologue show, entirely humorous. The audience in the main gave symptoms of being slightly bored, but one highly intelligent maniac saw the whole thing in the proper light, and, clapping the talented actor on the shoulder, said: “Glad you’ve come, old fellow. You and I will get along fine. The other dippies here are so dashed dignified. What I say is if a man is mad, he needn’t put on airs about it.”
Mose approached the registration booth hesitatingly, and being accosted by the official in charge, assured that dignitary that he had just walked ten miles to register.