“He called me a liar, your honor,” replied the accused.
“Is that true?” asked the Judge, turning to the man with the mussed-up face.
“Sure, it’s true,” said the accused, “I called him a liar because he is one, and I can prove it.”
“What have you got to say to that?” asked the Judge of the defendant.
“It’s got nothing to do with the case, your honor,” was the unexpected reply. “Even if I am a liar I guess I’ve got a right to be sensitive about it, ain’t I?”
The evening lesson was from the Book of Job, and the minister had just read, “Yea, the light of the wicked shall be put out,” when immediately the church was in total darkness.
“Brethren,” said the minister, with scarcely a moment’s pause, “in view of the sudden and startling fulfilment of this prophecy, we will spend a few minutes in silent prayer for the electric lighting company.”
A member of Congress and his wife had been to Baltimore one afternoon. When they left the train at Washington, on their return, the wife discovered that her umbrella, which had been entrusted to the care of her husband, was missing.
“Where’s my umbrella?” she demanded.
“I fear I have forgotten it, my dear,” meekly answered the statesman. “It must still be in the train.”
“In the train!” snorted the lady. “And to think that the affairs of the nation are entrusted to a man who doesn’t know enough to take care of a woman’s umbrella!”
Johnny stood beside his mother as she made her selection from the huckster’s wagon, and the farmer told the boy to take a handful of cherries, but the child shook his head.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like them?” asked the huckster.
“Yes,” replied Johnny.
“Then go ahead an’ take some.”
Johnny hesitated, whereupon the farmer put a generous handful in the boy’s cap. After the farmer had driven on, the mother asked:
“Why didn’t you take the cherries when he told you to?”
“’Cause his hand was bigger’n mine.”
A woman owning a house in Philadelphia before which a gang of workmen were engaged in making street repairs was much interested in the work.
“And which is the foreman?” she asked of a big, burly Celt.
A proud smile came to the countenance of that individual as he replied:
“Oi am, mum.”
“Really?” continued the lady.
“Oi kin prove it, mum,” rejoined the Irishman. Then, turning to a laborer at hand, he added, “Kelly, ye’re fired!”