A mere madness, to live like a wretch, and die rich.--_Robert Burton_.
SHE--"Poor cousin Jack! And to be eaten by those wretched cannibals!"
HE--"Yes, my dear child; but he gave them their first taste in religion!"
At a meeting of the Women's Foreign Missionary Society in a large city church a discussion arose among the members present as to the race of people that inhabited a far-away land. Some insisted that they were not a man-eating people; others that they were known to be cannibals. However, the question was finally decided by a minister's widow, who said:
"I beg pardon for interrupting, Mrs. Chairman, but I can assure you that they are cannibals. My husband was a missionary there and they ate him."
"What in the world are you up to, Hilda?" exclaimed Mrs. Bale, as she entered the nursery where her six-year-old daughter was stuffing broken toys, headless dolls, ragged clothes and general debris into an open box.
"Why, mother," cried Hilda, "can't you see? I'm packing a missionary box just the way the ladies do; and it's all right," she added reassuringly, "I haven't put in a single thing that's any good at all!"
There was a young fellow named Paul, Who went to a fancy dress ball; They say, just for fun He dressed up like a bun, And was "et" by a dog in the hall.
A Scottish woman, who was spending her holidays in London, entered a bric-a-brac shop, in search of something odd to take home to Scotland with her. After she had inspected several articles, but had found none to suit her, she noticed a quaint figure, the head and shoulders of which appeared above the counter.
"What is that Japanese idol over there worth?" she inquired of the salesman.
The salesman's reply was given in a subdued tone:
"About half a million, madam. That's the proprietor!"
The late James McNeil Whistler was standing bareheaded in a hat shop, the clerk having taken his hat to another part of the shop for comparison. A man rushed in with his hat in his hand, and, supposing Whistler to be a clerk angrily confronted him.
"See here," he said, "this hat doesn't fit."
Whistler eyed the stranger critically from head to foot, and then drawled out:
"Well, neither does your coat. What's more, if you'll pardon my saying so, I'll be hanged if I care much for the color of your trousers."