you so I can get back in."
"That's all right," said the doorkeeper, "but I may not be here whenyou return. In order to prevent any mistake I will give you thepassword so you can get your seat again."
Swate's eyes rather popped out at this. "What's the word?" he asked.
"Idiosyncrasy."
"What?"
"Idiosyncrasy."
"I guess I'll stay in," said Swate.
* * * * *
The Willoughbys had said good-by to Mrs. Kent. Then Mr. Willoughbyspoke thoughtfully:
"It was pleasant of her to say that about wishing she could see moreof people like us, who are interested in real things, instead of thefoolish round of gaiety that takes up so much of her time and givesher so little satisfaction, wasn't it?"
His wife stole a sidewise glance at his gratified face and a satiricalsmile crossed her own countenance.
"Very pleasant, George," she said clearly. "But what I knew she meant,and what she knew that I knew she meant, was that my walking-skirt isan inch too long and my sleeves are old style, and your coat, poordear, is beginning to look shiny in the back."
"Why--what--how--" began Mr. Willoughby helplessly; then he shook hishead and gave it up.
* * * * *
Mrs. Wharton, the novelist, has never described any blunder of theso-called smart set quite as pathetic as one that actually happened toherself. A young man of a particularly old family, who sat next to herat dinner, said: "I'm terribly frightened to meet you, Mrs. Wharton,"and when asked the origin of his terrors, explained: "I've alwaysheard you're such a frightful blackleg."
* * * * *
Rosenthal, the pianist, speaks eight or ten languages. But hisknowledge of idiomatic English has not always been sufficient toenable him to follow all the critics have said about his pyrotechnicplaying. The other day, reading over the latest batch of clippings inthe manager's office, he suddenly asked: "Vat iss 'Fourt' of Julyinterpretation?"
"Fourth of July?" was the reply, "Don't you know the Fourth of July?Why, the national holiday--everything noble and patriotic--GeorgeWashington--Battle of Bunker Hill--the Declaration of Independence--""Ah! I see," said the pianist, "Un grand compliment!"
* * * * *
Representative Cushman, of Washington, once came to Speaker Cannonwith a letter written by the speaker himself.
"Mr. Speaker," he said, "I got this letter from you yesterday and Icouldn't read it. I showed it to twenty or thirty fellows in the Houseand, between us, we have spelled out all but the last three words."Uncle Joe took the letter and studied it, "The last three words," hesaid, "are 'Personal and Confidential.'"
* * * * *
At a banquet held in a room the walls of which were adorned with manybeautiful paintings, a well-known college president was called upon torespond to a toast. In the course of his remarks, wishing to pay acompliment to the ladies present, and designating the paintings withone of his characteristic gestures, he said: "What need is there ofthese painted beauties when we have so many with us at this table?"
* * * * *
The late Charles Eliot Norton was wont to deplore the modern youth'spreference of brawn to brain. He used to tell of a football game heonce witnessed: "Princeton had a splendid player in Poe--you willremember little Poe?" and Professor Norton, thinking of "The Raven"and "Annabel Lee," said to the lad at his side: "He plays well, thatPoe!"
"Doesn't he?" the youth cried. "Is he," said Professor Norton, "anyrelation to the great Poe?"
"Any relation?" said the youth. "Why, he is the great Poe."
* * * * *
A fire broke out one day in Francis Wilson's dressing-room at thetheater where he was playing.
He had some of his books around him, and in an agony of despair askedhimself:
"Which shall I save?" He glanced at his precious Chaucer, at someShakespearean volumes, when:
"Come, Mr. Wilson," broke in at the door from a fireman, "you have nota moment to lose."
"Yes, yes. Coming," replied Wilson absently.
He was looking for a special illuminated volume very dear to him.
"Come, Wilson," cried his manager; "come, get out!"
"All right, all right," said Wilson, and, grabbing some clothes in onehand, he snatched with the other the nearest volume and ran to thestreet. There he looked at the huge volume in his arms. It was thecity directory.
* * * * *
A city gentleman was recently invited down to the country for "a daywith the birds." His aim was not remarkable for its accuracy, to thegreat disgust of the man in attendance, whose tip was generallyregulated by the size of the bag.
"Dear me!" at last exclaimed the sportsman, "but the birds seemexceptionally strong on the wing this year."
"Not all of 'em, sir," was the answer. "You've shot at the same birdabout a dozen times. 'E's a-follerin' you about, sir."
"Following me about? Nonsense! Why should a bird do that?"
"Well, sir," came the reply. "I dunno, I'm sure, unless 'e's 'angin''round you for safety."
* * * * *
A lady was calling on some friends one summer afternoon. The talkbuzzed along briskly, fans waved and the daughter of the house kepttwitching uncomfortably, frowning and making little smotheredexclamations of annoyance. Finally, with a sigh, she rose and left theroom.
"Your daughter," said the visitor, "seems to be suffering from theheat."
"No," said the hostess. "She is just back home from college and she issuffering from the family grammar."
* * * * *
"It ain't everybody I'd put to sleep in this room," said old Mrs.Jinks to the fastidious and extremely nervous young minister who wasspending a night at her house.
"This here room is full of sacred associations to me," she went on, asshe bustled around opening shutters and arranging the curtains. "Myfirst husband died in that bed with his head on these very pillers,and poor Mr. Jinks died settin' right in that corner. Sometimes when Icome into the room in the dark I think I see him settin' there still.
"My own father died layin' right on that lounge under the winder. Poorpa! He was a Speeritualist, and he allus said he'd appear in this roomafter he died, and sometimes I'm foolish enough to look for him. Ifyou should see anything of him to-night you'd better not tell me; forit'd be a sign to me that there was something in Speeritualism, andI'd hate to think that.
"My son by my first man fell dead of heart disease right where youstand. He was a doctor, and there's two skeletons in that closet thatbelonged to him, and half a dozen skulls in that lower drawer.
"There, I guess you'll be comfortable.
"Well, good night, and pleasant dreams."
* * * * *
A woman suffrage lecturer brought down the house with the followingargument: "I have no vote, but my groom has, but I am sure if I wereto go to him and say, 'John, will you exercise the franchise?' hewould reply, 'Please, mum, which horse be that?'"
* * * * *
"Maude was afraid the girls wouldn't notice her engagement ring." "Didthey?" "_Did_ they? Six of them recognized it at once."
* * * * *
Mr. George Broadhurst, author of the play, "The Man of the Hour," isan Englishman, and recently made a visit to his native country. Afterhaving lived a week at one of the large hotels in London, he wassurprised on the evening of his departure, although at a very latehour, to see an endless procession of waiters, maids, porters, andpages come forward with the expectant smile and empty hand. When eachand all had been well bestowed, even boots and under-boots and thenanother boots, he dashed for the four-wheeler that was to carry himsafely away.
Settling himself with a sigh of relief, he was about to be off when apage popped his head into the wi
ndow and breathlessly exclaimed:
"I beg pardon, sir, but the night-lift man says he's waiting for amessage from you, sir."
"A message from me?"
"Yes, sir; he says he cawn't go to sleep without a message from you,sir."
"Really, he can't go to sleep without a message from me?"
"No, sir."
"How touching. Then tell him, 'Pleasant dreams.'"
* * * * *
Representative Tawney, of Minnesota, chairman of the House Committeeon Appropriations, sent out some of his quota of garden seeds to hisconstituents not long ago. One man in Winona wrote to Tawney: "DearJim: I received your seeds, but I don't care much for them. If youreally want to do something for me, please send me up a suit of unionunderwear."
* * * * *
In his younger days Thomas Bailey Aldrich was not a little of a dandy.This foible led an unusually energetic Boston bluestocking to refer tohim in a caustic style on one occasion as "effeminate."
When a friend told the poet of her remark he smiled grimly.
"So I am," he assented, "compared with her."
* * * * *
Tennyson's customary manner toward women was one of grave and statelycourtesy. One evening at Aldworth, Sir Edward Hamley, the soldier andexpert writer on the art of war, who had been visiting through theday, rose to take leave. Tennyson pressed him to stay over night,adding: "There are three ladies who wish it," meaning Mrs. Tennysonand the two guests who were in the house.
"There are three other ladies who oppose it," Sir Edward answered.
"Who are they?" Tennyson asked.
"The Fates," Sir Edward replied.
"The Fates may be on one side," Tennyson rejoined, "but the Graces areon the other."
* * * * *
Douglas Jerrold's genius for repartee is perhaps best shown in hismost famous reply to Albert Smith, whom he disliked and frequentlyabused. Smith grew tired of being made the butt of the other's wit,and one day plaintively remarked: "After all, Jerrold, we row in thesame boat." "Yes," came the answer, "but not with the same skulls."
* * * * *
Mr. Brown, a Kansas gentleman, is the proprietor of a boarding-house.Around his table at a recent dinner sat his wife, Mrs. Brown; thevillage milliner, Mrs. Andrews; Mr. Black, the baker; Mr. Jordan, acarpenter; and Mr. Hadley, a flour, feed, and lumber merchant. Mr.Brown took a ten-dollar bill out of his pocketbook and handed it toMrs. Brown, with the remark that there was ten dollars toward thetwenty he had promised her. Mrs. Brown handed the bill to Mrs.Andrews, the milliner, saying, "That pays for my new bonnet." Mrs.Andrews, in turn, passed it on to Mr. Jordan, remarking that it wouldpay for the carpentry work he had done for her. Mr. Jordan handed itto Mr. Hadley, requesting his receipted bill for flour, feed, andlumber. Mr. Hadley gave the bill back to Mr. Brown, saying, "That paysten dollars on my board." Mr. Brown again passed it to Mrs. Brown,remarking that he had now paid her the twenty dollars he had promisedher. She, in turn, paid it to Mr. Black to settle her bread and pastryaccount. Mr. Black handed it to Mr. Hadley, asking credit for theamount on his flour bill, Mr. Hadley again returning it to Mr. Brown,with the remark that it settled for that month's board; whereuponBrown put it back into his pocketbook, observing that he had notsupposed a greenback would go so far.
* * * * *
A doctor came up to a patient in an insane asylum, slapped him on theback, and said: "Well, old man, you're all right, you can run alongand write your folks that you'll be back home in two weeks as good asnew." The patient went off gaily to write his letter. He had itfinished and sealed, but when he was licking the stamp it slippedthrough his fingers to the floor, lighted on the back of a cockroachthat was passing and stuck. The patient hadn't seen thecockroach--what he did see was his escaped postage stamp zig-zaggingaimlessly across the floor to the baseboard, wavering up over thebaseboard and following a crooked track up the wall and across theceiling. In depressed silence he tore up the letter and dropped thepieces on the floor. "Two weeks! Hell!" he said. "I won't be out ofhere in three years."
* * * * *
A Bostonian, arriving at the gate of Heaven, asked for admittance.
"Where are you from?" inquired the genial Saint.
"Boston."
"Well, you can come in, but you won't like it."
* * * * *
A well-known bishop, after a long journey to conduct a service in adistant village, was asked by the spokesman of the reception committeeif he would like a whisky and soda to keep out the cold. "No," hereplied, "for three reasons. First, because I am chairman of theTemperance Society; secondly, I am just going to enter a church;and--thirdly, because--I have just had one."
* * * * *
A frivolous young English girl, with no love for the Stars andStripes, once exclaimed at a celebration where the American flag wasvery much in evidence: "Oh, what a silly-looking thing the Americanflag is! It suggests nothing but checker-berry candy."
"Yes," replied a bystander, "the kind of candy that has made everybodysick who ever tried to lick it."
* * * * *
A hungry Irishman went into a restaurant on Friday and said to thewaiter:
"Have yez any whale?"
"No."
"Have yez any shark?"
"No."
"Have yez any swordfish?"
"No."
"Have yez any jellyfish?"
"No."
"All right," said the Irishman. "Then bring me ham and eggs and abeefsteak smothered wid onions. The Lord knows I asked for fish."
* * * * *
Mr. Halloran returned from a political meeting with his interestaroused. "There's eight nations represented in this ward of ours," hesaid, as he began to count them off on his fingers. "There's Irish,Frinch, Eyetalians, Poles, Germans, Rooshians, Greeks, an'--" Mr.Halloran stopped and began again: "There's Irish, Frinch, Eyetalians,Poles, Germans, Rooshians, Greeks, an'--I can't seem to remember theother wan. There's Irish, Frinch--" "Maybe 'twas Americans," suggestedMrs. Halloran. "Sure, that's it, I couldn't think."
* * * * *
The solemnity of the meeting was somewhat disturbed when the eloquentyoung theologian pictured in glowing words the selfishness of men whospend their evenings at the club, leaving their wives in loneliness athome at the holiday season. "Think, my hearers," said he, "of a poor,neglected wife, all alone in the great, dreary house, rocking thecradle of her sleeping babe with one foot and wiping away her tearswith the other!"
* * * * *
Two charming girls with Mr. Danvers, who was very shy, were watchingthe dancing waves. Conversation was carried on with difficulty.Finally Maude ventured the remark:
"Don't you hate the seaside, Mr. Danvers, with its glare and noise andgeneral vulgarity?"
Mr. Danvers replied fervently with a smile and downcast eyes: "Oh,d-d-d-don't I, that's all!"
Then Miss Lilian followed up the subject and said: "What, hate theseaside, Mr. Danvers?--with the fresh air and blue waves, and thedelightful lounge after bathing, and the lawn-tennis and theCinderella dances! I dote on it, and I should have thought you did,too!"
Whereupon Mr. Danvers stammered still more fervently: "Oh--I-I-Ishould think I did!"
And the waves kept on splashing merrily.
* * * * *
Just before the collection was taken up one Sunday morning a negroclergyman announced that he regretted to state that a certain brotherhad forgotten to lock the door of his chicken-house the night before,and as a result in the morning he found that most of the fowls haddisappeared. "I doan' want to be pussonal, bredr'n," he added, "but Ihab my s'picions as to who stole dem chickens. I also hab reason fo'b'lievin' dat if I am right in dos
e s'picions dat pusson won't put anymoney in de plate which will now be passed around."
The result was a fine collection; not a single member of thecongregation feigned sleep. After it was counted the old parson cameforward.
"Now, bredr'n," he said, "I doan' want your dinners to be spoilt bywonderin' where dat brudder lives who doan' lock his chickens up atnight. Dat brudder doan' exist, mah friends. He was a parable gottenup fo' purpose of finances."
* * * * *
A minister in a Western town was called upon one afternoon to performthe marriage ceremony between a negro couple--the negro preacher ofthe town being absent from home.
After the ceremony the groom asked the price of the service.
"Oh, well," said the minister, "you can pay me whatever you think itis worth to you."
The negro turned and silently looked his bride over from head to foot,then slowly rolling up the whites of his eyes, said:
"Lawd, sah, you