Majesty is said to have slackened speed and called out: "But I'mthe king!"
"Jest you come aht o' that," was the reply; "yer the third king wot'scome along this morning."
* * * * *
In order to play "Rosemary" some years ago, John Drew shaved off hismustache, thereby greatly changing his appearance. Shortly afterwardhe met Max Beerbohm in the lobby of a London theater, but could notjust then recall who the latter was. Mr. Beerbohm's memory was better.
"Oh, Mr. Drew," he said, "I'm afraid you don't know me without yourmustache."
* * * * *
A truly eloquent parson had been preaching for an hour or so on theimmortality of the soul.
"I looked at the mountains," he declaimed, "and could not helpthinking, 'Beautiful as you are, you will be destroyed, while my soulwill not.' I gazed upon the ocean and cried, 'Mighty as you are youwill eventually dry up, but not I.'"
* * * * *
"Now if I don't git rid o' dis cold soon," complained Jimmy, thejockey, "I'll be a dead one."
"Did you go to Dr. Goodman, as I told you?" asked his friend.
"Naw! De sign on his door said '10 to 1' an' I wouldn't monkey wid nolong shot like dat."
* * * * *
Herbert S. Stone, the publisher, described at a dinner in Washingtonthe amusing methods of a newspaper writer who used to write articlesat a set rate a column.
He was once commissioned to do a serial story for a Chicago paper. Thestory, as it proceeded from week to week, was interesting, but itcontained many passages like the following:
"Did you hear him?"
"I did."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
"Where?"
"By the well."
"When?"
"To-day."
"Then he lives?"
"He does."
"Ah."
The editor, sending for the man, said:
"Hereafter we will pay you by the letters in your serial. We will payyou so much a thousand letters."
The young man, looking crestfallen, went away, but in the very nextinstalment of his story he introduced a character who stuttered, andall through the chapter were scattered passages like this:
"B-b-b-b-believe me, s-s-s-sir, I am n-n-not g-g-g-guilty. M-m-m-mym-m-m-mother c-c-c-committed this c-c-c-crime."
* * * * *
A man with a soft, low voice had just completed his purchases in adepartment store of the City of Churches.
"What is the name?" asked the clerk.
"Jepson," replied the man.
"Chipson?"
"No, Jepson."
"Oh, yes, Jefferson."
"No, Jepson; J-e-p-s-o-n."
"Jepson?"
"That's it. You have it. Sixteen eighty-two--"
"Your first name, initial, please."
"Oh, K."
"O. K. Jepson."
"Excuse me, it isn't O. K. You did not understand me. I said 'Oh.'"
"O. Jepson."
"No; rub out the O and let the K stand."
The clerk looked annoyed. "Will you please give me your initialsagain?"
"I said K."
"I beg your pardon, you said O. K. Perhaps you had better write ityourself."
"I said 'Oh'--"
"Just now you said K."
"Allow me to finish what I started to say. I said 'Oh,' because I didnot understand what you were asking me. I did not mean that it was myinitial. My name is Kirby Jepson."
"Oh!"
"No, not O., but K.," said the man. "Give me the pencil, and I'llwrite it down for you myself. There, I guess it's O. K. now."
* * * * *
The furnishing of the new house had gone on vociferously. All thefamily told stories of the beautiful and rare articles picked up atauctions, usually at such bargains as only amateurs in such mattersare able to find. There was naturally much curiosity to see how thehouse looked. The first visitor who had the opportunity to inspect itwas eagerly questioned by her friends.
"I can't describe it myself," she explained. "All I can say is thatauctions speak louder than words."
* * * * *
When Frank R. Stockton started out with his Rudder Grange experienceshe undertook to keep chickens. One old motherly Plymouth Rock broughtout a brood late in the fall, and Stockton named each of the chicksafter some literary friend, among the rest Mary Mapes Dodge. Mrs.Dodge was visiting the farm some time later, and, happening to thinkof her namesake, she said: "By the way, Frank, how does little MaryMapes Dodge get along?" "The funny thing about little Mary MapesDodge," said he, "is, she turns out to be Thomas Bailey Aldrich."
* * * * *
A short time ago a lady with an only child (aged seven) wasentertaining the bishop of the diocese to afternoon tea. The smallgirl was allowed to come to tea, but her mother had instilled into hermind the necessity of speaking reverently to the bishop. Tea came andwith it the pangs of hunger, but at the same time her mother'swarning, "speak reverently," was always before her. After sitting forabout ten minutes gazing at the good things and repeating over andover again, "speak reverently," she exclaimed, "For God's sake pass methe bread and butter."
* * * * *
Hiram Hardscrabble and his load of hay, two horses, and a perfectlygood wagon were pitched so high and so far by a reckless railroadtrain that when they came down they weren't--any of 'em--good formuch. The local Congressman took the case, and after some monthsadvised Hiram to accept the railroad company's offer of lifelongemployment at $15 a week. Hiram accepted. They put him out as aflagman on a crossing near his native village.
Cassidy, the section boss, stopped his handcar before the flag-shanty,and after a searching look at Hiram advised as follows:
"So you're the new flagman, are ye? And ye've niver railroaded before.No harm. We'll make a man iv ye. See, now, there's yer red flag andyer green flag and yer white flag, and yer thrain schedule within onthe wall. All ye have to do is dhrop the gates befoor the thrains docome, so that they'll have a clear thrack. D'ye mind, now?
"But there's wan thing above all others--th' Impire Shtate Express!Putt yer gates down two minyits before she comes and keep them downtill she's pasht. Mind now, she must niver be late on this section.Niver wan minyit late. I won't sthand f'r it. Remimber--th' ImpireShtate Express. She must niver be late here."
Hiram promised. At 2 P.M., when the Empire State Express was due intwo minutes, he dropped the crossing gates and stood by with the whiteflag to wave her along. Three minutes passed, four, five--and still notrain. As a matter of fact, she had lost half an hour at an open drawon the Harlem River in the morning, and was laboring mightily toregain lost time in spite of her fast schedule.
Seven minutes late, and then Hiram heard a wild shriek a mile away andsaw the express coming. He darted into the shanty, grabbed a red flag,and leaped out upon the track, waving it furiously. The engineer shutoff, threw over the reverse lever, gave her sand and the air; and themighty train stopped short, in a whirl of sand, cinders, and sparks,brakes creaking and passengers pitchpoling everywhere.
"What's the matter now?" roared the engineer, thrusting half his bodyout of the cab and glaring down at Hiram.
"Be yeou th' ingineer?" asked the flagman, peering at him withsuspicion.
"Yes, yes! Whad-do-you want?"
"I want t' know whut's made ye so goldinged late? Cassidy says hewun't stand f'r it."
* * * * *
During a match at St. Andrews, Scotland, a rustic was struck in theeye accidentally by a golf ball. Running up to his assailant, heyelled:
"This'll cost ye five pounds--five pounds!"
"But I called out 'fore' as loudly as I could," explained the golfer.
"Did ye, sir?" replied the troubled one, much appeased. "Weel, I didnahear; I'll tak
e fower."
* * * * *
Mark Twain observed once at a public dinner that he had written afriendly letter to Queen Victoria protesting against a tax beinglevied in England on his head, on the ground that it was a gas-works."I don't know you," he wrote, "but I've met your son. He was at thehead of a procession in the Strand, and I was on a 'bus." Yearsafterward he met the King at Homburg, and they had a long talk. Atparting the King said: