“But you’re a Jew?”

“Yes, yes, I’m a Jew,” came the answer.

“Well,” continued the Yankee, “I’m a Yankee, and in the little village in Maine where I come from I’m proud to say there ain’t a Jew.”

“Dot’s why it’s a village,” replied the little Jew quietly.

The men were arguing as to who was the greatest inventor.  One said Stephenson, who invented the locomotive.  Another declared it was the man who invented the compass.  Another contended for Edison.  Still another for the Wrights,

Finally one of them turned to a little man who had remained silent: 

“Who do you think?”

“Vell,” he said, with a hopeful smile, “the man who invented interest was no slouch.”

Levinsky, despairing of his life, made an appointment with a famous specialist.  He was surprised to find fifteen or twenty people in the waiting-room.

After a few minutes he leaned over to a gentleman near him and whispered, “Say, mine frient, this must be a pretty goot doctor, ain’t he?”

“One of the best,” the gentleman told him.

Levinsky seemed to be worrying over something.

“Vell, say,” he whispered again, “he must be pretty exbensive, then, ain’t he?  Vat does he charge?”

The stranger was annoyed by Levinsky’s questions and answered rather shortly:  “Fifty dollars for the first consultation and twenty-five dollars for each visit thereafter.”

“Mine Gott!” gasped Levinsky—­“Fifty tollars the first time und twenty-five tollars each time afterwards!”

For several minutes he seemed undecided whether to go or to wait.  “Und twenty-five tollars each time afterwards,” he kept muttering.  Finally, just as he was called into the office, he was seized with a brilliant inspiration.  He rushed toward the doctor with outstretched hands.

“Hello, doctor,” he said effusively.  “Vell, here I am again.”

The Jews are among the aristocracy of every land; if a literature is called rich in the possession of a few classic tragedies what shall we say to a national tragedy lasting for fifteen hundred years, in which the poets and the actors were also the heroes.—­George Eliot.

See also Failures; Fires.

JOKES

A nut and a joke are alike in that they can both be cracked, and different in that the joke can be cracked again.—­William J. Burtscher.

JOKELY—­“I got a batch of aeroplane jokes ready and sent them out last week.”

BOGGS—­“What luck did you have with them?”

JOKELY—­“Oh, they all came flying back.”—­Will S. Gidley.

  “I ne’er forget a joke I have
    Once heard!” Augustus cried. 
  “And neither do you let your friends
    Forget it!” Jane replied.

  —­Childe Harold.

A negro bricklayer in Macon, Georgia, was lying down during the noon hour, sleeping in the hot sun.  The clock struck one, the time to pick up his hod again.  He rose, stretched, and grumbled:  “I wish I wuz daid.  ‘Tain’ nothin’ but wuk, wuk from mawnin’ tell night.”