"_Dear Sir_: I am very sorry to hear that my servants have been poaching on your preserves.

"P.S.--You'll excuse my mentioning your preserves, won't you?"

An Omaha man was taking an automobile trip through the ranching section of the State, and to save time took a short cut over a bad stretch of road, full of jolts and b.u.mps. During the afternoon his machine broke down, and, as the monkey wrench was missing from his tool kit, he started on foot for the nearest ranch house to borrow one. On arriving he found the farmer repairing his fence.

"Have you a monkey wrench about here that I can use?" he asked.

"Ay tank not," replied the farmer. "Yonson in nax saction ha kape cattle ranch, Svenson down har ha kape sheep ranch. Faller bane big fool to make monkey ranch in dese place."

Andrew Carnegie is fond of the Scots' national instrument, the bagpipe, and when he is at home at Skibo Castle usually has his pet piper to play for him at dinner. Particularly is the musician in attendance when the great philanthropist has guests.

On one occasion a big company of men sat down to table, and the piper pranced up and down the room as he played.

The whole thing was new to a French literary man, who politely asked the guest on his right, "Why does he walk up and down when he does this thing? Does it add to the volume of the sound, or does it make a cadence?"

"No," said the other, "I don't think it's that. I fancy it's to prevent the listeners getting his range with a knife or a water bottle."

Some time ago Professor Brander Matthews went to dine at a certain dramatic club in New York. Going to the club letter box he picked up and perused a letter which seemed to be addressed to him. It was a request from a tailor for the settlement of his little bill. As the man's name was quite strange to him he made a careful examination, and finding that he had been mistaken, put the missive back into its place. Immediately afterward he saw the real owner take possession of it, walk into the reading-room, read it carefully, and tear it into shreds. Then, a.s.sured of an audience, the man whose clothes were still unpaid for, a.s.sumed the weary smile of an accomplished ladykiller and remarked audibly, "Poor, silly, little girl!"

A street-car "masher" tried in every way to attract the attention of the pretty young girl opposite him. Just as he had about given up, the girl, entirely unconscious of what had been going on, happened to glance in his direction. The "masher" immediately took fresh courage.

"It's cold out to-day, isn't it?" he ventured.

The girl smiled and nodded a.s.sent, but had nothing to say.

"My name is Specknoodle," he volunteered.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she said sympathetically, as she left the car.

A Jew crossing the Brooklyn Bridge met a friend who said, "Abe, I'll bet you ten dollars that I can tell you exactly what you're thinking about."

"Vell," agreed Abe, producing a greasy bill, "I'll haf to take dot bet. Put up your money."

The friend produced two fives. "Abe," he said, "you are thinking of going over to Brooklyn, buying a small stock of goods, renting a small store, taking out all the fire-insurance that you can possibly get, and then burning out. Do I win my bet?"

"Vell," replied Abe, "you don't egsactly vin, but the idea is worth de money. Take id."

Andrew Carnegie tells a good story ill.u.s.trating the canniness of the Scot.

An Irish friend had insisted that a Scotchman should stay at his house, instead of at a hotel, and kept him there for a month, playing the host in detail, even to treating him to sundry visits to the theater, paying the cab fares and the rest. When the visitor was returning home, the Irishman saw him to the station, and they went together to have a last cigar.

"Now, look here," said the Scot, "I'll hae nae mair o' this. Here ye've been keepin' me at your hoose for a month, an' payin' for a' the amus.e.m.e.nts and cabs and so on--I tell you I'll stan' nae mair o' it!

We'll just hae a toss for this one!"

"Uncle Joe" Cannon has a way of speaking his mind that is sometimes embarra.s.sing to others. On one occasion an inexperienced young fellow was called upon to make a speech at a banquet at which Speaker Cannon was also present.

"Gentlemen," began the young fellow, "my opinion is that the generality of mankind in general is disposed to take advantage of the generality of ----"

"Sit down, son," interrupted "Uncle Joe." "You are coming out of the same hole you went in at."

It is a well-established fact that the average school-teacher experiences a great deal of difficulty when she attempts to enforce the clear p.r.o.nunciation of the terminal "g" of each present participle.

"Robert," said the teacher of one of the lower cla.s.ses during the progress of a reading exercise, "please read the first sentence."

A diminutive lad rose to his feet and, amid a series of labored gasps, breathed forth the following:

"See the horse runnin'."

"Don't forget the 'g,' Robert," admonished the teacher.

"Gee! See the horse runnin'."

Miss Jeannette Gilder was one of the ardent enthusiasts at the debut of Tetrazzini. After the first act she rushed to the back of the house to greet one of her friends. "Don't you think she is a wonder?"

she asked excitedly.

"She is a great singer unquestionably," responded her more phlegmatic friend, "but the registers of her voice are not so even as, for instance, Melba's."

"Oh, bother Melba," said Miss Gilder. "Tetrazzini gives infinitely more heat from her registers."

Walter Damrosch tells of a matron in Chicago who, in company with her young nephew, was attending a musical entertainment.

The selections were apparently entirely unfamiliar to the youth; but when the "Wedding March" of Mendelssohn was begun he began to evince more interest.

"That sounds familiar," he said. "I'm not strong on these cla.s.sical pieces, but that's a good one. What is it?"

"That," gravely explained the matron, "is the 'Maiden's Prayer.'"