A lively looking porter stood on the rear platform of a sleeping-car in the Pennsylvania station when a fussy and choleric old man clambered up the steps.  He stopped at the door, puffed for a moment, and then turned to the young man in uniform.

“Porter,” he said.  “I’m going to St. Louis, to the Fair.  I want to be well taken care of.  I pay for it.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, but—­”

“Never mind any ‘buts.’  You listen to what I say.  Keep the train boys away from me.  Dust me off whenever I want you to.  Give me an extra blanket, and if there is any one in the berth over me slide him into another.  I want you to—­”

“But, say, boss, I—­”

“Young man, when I’m giving instructions I prefer to do the talking myself.  You do as I say.  Here is a two-dollar bill.  I want to get the good of it.  Not a word, sir.”

The train was starting.  The porter pocketed the bill with a grin and swung himself to the ground.  “All right, boss!” he shouted.  “You can do the talking if you want to.  I’m powerful sorry you wouldn’t let me tell you—­but I ain’t going out on that train.”

INSURANCE, LIFE

A man went to an insurance office to have his life insured the other day.

“Do you cycle?” the insurance agent asked.

“No,” said the man.

“Do you motor?”

“No.”

“Do you, then, perhaps, fly?”

“No, no,” said the applicant, laughing; “I have no dangerous—­”

But the agent interrupted him curtly.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, “but we no longer insure pedestrians.”

INSURANCE BLANKS

See Irish bulls.

INSURGENTS

“And what,” asked a visitor to the North Dakota State Fair, “do you call that kind of cucumber?”

“That,” replied a Fargo politician, “is the Insurgent cucumber.  It doesn’t always agree with a party.”

INTERVIEWS

“Haven’t your opinions on this subject undergone a change?”

“No,” replied Senator Soghum.

“But your views, as you expressed them some time ago?”

“Those were not my views.  Those were my interviews.”

INVITATIONS

“Recently,” says a Richmond man, “I received an invitation to the marriage of a young colored couple formerly in my employ.  I am quite sure that all persons similarly favored were left in little doubt as to the attitude of the couple.  The invitation ran as follows: 

“You are invited to the marriage of Mr. Henry Clay Barker and Miss Josephine Mortimer Dixon at the house of the bride’s mother.  All who cannot come may send.”—­Howard Morse.

One day a Chinese poor man met the head of his family in the street.