"No."

"Have yez any jellyfish?"

"No."

"All right," said the Irishman. "Then bring me ham and eggs and a beefsteak smothered wid onions. The Lord knows I asked for fish."

Mr. Halloran returned from a political meeting with his interest aroused. "There's eight nations represented in this ward of ours," he said, 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 the other wan. There's Irish, Frinch--" "Maybe 'twas Americans," suggested Mrs. Halloran. "Sure, that's it, I couldn't think."

The solemnity of the meeting was somewhat disturbed when the eloquent young theologian pictured in glowing words the selfishness of men who spend their evenings at the club, leaving their wives in loneliness at home at the holiday season. "Think, my hearers," said he, "of a poor, neglected wife, all alone in the great, dreary house, rocking the cradle of her sleeping babe with one foot and wiping away her tears with the other!"

Two charming girls with Mr. Danvers, who was very shy, were watching the 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 and general 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 the seaside, Mr. Danvers?--with the fresh air and blue waves, and the delightful lounge after bathing, and the lawn-tennis and the Cinderella dances! I dote on it, and I should have thought you did, too!"

Whereupon Mr. Danvers stammered still more fervently: "Oh--I-I-I should think I did!"

And the waves kept on splashing merrily.

Just before the collection was taken up one Sunday morning a negro clergyman announced that he regretted to state that a certain brother had 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 had disappeared. "I doan' want to be pussonal, bredr'n," he added, "but I hab my s'picions as to who stole dem chickens. I also hab reason fo'

b'lievin' dat if I am right in dose s'picions dat pusson won't put any money in de plate which will now be pa.s.sed around."

The result was a fine collection; not a single member of the congregation feigned sleep. After it was counted the old parson came forward.

"Now, bredr'n," he said, "I doan' want your dinners to be spoilt by wonderin' where dat brudder lives who doan' lock his chickens up at night. Dat brudder doan' exist, mah friends. He was a parable gotten up fo' purpose of finances."

A minister in a Western town was called upon one afternoon to perform the marriage ceremony between a negro couple--the negro preacher of the 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 it is 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 has done ruined me for life, you has, for shuah."

A professor of sciences, well known for his absent-mindedness, was engaged in a deep controversy one day with a fellow-student when his wife hurriedly entered the room. "Oh, my dear," she cried, "I've swallowed a pin."

The Professor smiled. "Don't worry about it, my dear," he said in a soothing tone. "It is of no consequence. Here"--he fumbled at his lapel--"Here is another pin."

The late Theodore Thomas was rehearsing the Chicago Orchestra on the stage of the Auditorium Theater. He was disturbed by the whistling of Burridge, the well-known scene painter, who was at work in the loft above the stage. A few minutes later Mr. Thomas's librarian appeared on the "bridge," where Mr. Burridge, merrily whistling, was at work.

"Mr. Thomas's compliments," said the librarian, "and he requests me to say that if Mr. Burridge wishes to whistle he will be glad to discontinue his rehearsal." To which Mr. Burridge replied suavely: "Mr. Burridge's compliments to Mr. Thomas; and please inform Mr.

Thomas that, if Mr. Burridge can not whistle with the orchestra, he won't whistle at all."

When trouble was more general and more destructive in Ireland than at present, an Irish priest, a very good man, was disturbed by the inroads which strong drink was making on his flock. He preached a strong sermon against it. "What is it," he cried, "that keeps you poor? It's the drink. What is it keeps your children half-starved? The drink. What is it keeps your children half-clothed? The drink! The drink. What is it causes you to shoot at your landlords--and miss them? The drink."

Goff, the famous London barrister, has a humor peculiarly his own. He looks at the world in a half-amused, half-indulgent manner sometimes very annoying to his friends. One day, when in town, he dropped into a restaurant for lunch. It was a tidy, although not a pretentious establishment. After a good meal he called to the waitress and inquired what kind of pie could be had.

"Apple pie mince pie raisin pie blueberry pie custard pie peach pie and strawberry shortcake," the young woman repeated glibly.

"Will you please say that again?" he asked, leaning a trifle forward.

The girl went through the list at lightning rate. "And strawberry shortcake," she concluded with emphasis.

"Would you mind doing it once more?" he said.

The waitress looked her disgust, and started in a third time p.r.o.nouncing the words in a defiantly clear tone.

"Thank you," he remarked when she had finished. "For the life of me I can not see how you do it. But I like to hear it. It's very interesting, very. Give me apple pie, please, and thank you very much."

An elderly Bishop, a bachelor, who was very fastidious about his toilet, was especially fond of his bath, and requested particular care of his tub from the maid.

When about to leave town one day he gave strict orders to the housemaid about his "bawth-tub" and said that no one was to be allowed the use of it.

Alas! the temptation grew on the girl and she took a plunge.

The Bishop returned unexpectedly, and finding traces of the recent stolen bath, questioned the maid so closely that she had to confess she was the culprit, and was very sorry.

"I hope you do not think it a sin, Bishop?" asked Mary in tears.

Eying her sternly, he said: "Mary your using my tub is not a sin, but what distresses me most is that you would do anything behind my back that you would not do before my face."