It was a very hot day and the fat drummer who wanted the twelve-twenty train got through the gate at just twelve-twenty-one.  The ensuing handicap was watched with absorbed interest both from the train and the station platform.  At its conclusion the breathless and perspiring knight of the road wearily took the back trail, and a vacant-faced “red-cap” came out to relieve him of his grip.

“Mister,” he inquired, “was you tryin’ to ketch that Pennsylvania train?”

“No, my son,” replied the patient man.  “No; I was merely chasing it out of the yard.”

A party of young men were camping, and to avert annoying questions they made it a rule that the one who asked a question that he could not answer himself had to do the cooking.

One evening, while sitting around the fire, one of the boys asked:  “Why is it that a ground-squirrel never leaves any dirt at the mouth of its burrow?”

They all guessed and missed.  So he was asked to answer it himself.

“Why,” he said, “because it always begins to dig at the other end of the hole.”

“But,” one asked, “how does it get to the other end of the hole?”

“Well,” was the reply, “that’s your question.”

A browbeating lawyer was demanding that a witness answer a certain question either in the negative or affirmative.

“I cannot do it,” said the witness.  “There are some questions that cannot be answered by a ‘yes’ or a ‘no,’ as any one knows.”

“I defy you to give an example to the court,” thundered the lawyer.

The retort came like a flash:  “Are you still beating your wife?”

Officers have a right to ask questions in the performance of their duty, but there are occasions when it seems as if they might curtail or forego the privilege.  Not long ago an Irishman whose hand had been badly mangled in an accident entered the Boston City Hospital relief station in a great hurry.  He stepped up to the man in charge and inquired: 

“Is this the relief station, sor?”

“Yes.  What is your name?”

“Patrick O’Connor, sor.”

“Are you married?” questioned the officer.

“Yis, sor, but is this the relief station?” He was nursing his hand in agony.

“Of course it is.  How many children have you?”

“Eight, sor.  But sure, this is the relief station?”

“Yes, it is,” replied the officer, a little angry at the man’s persistence.

“Well,” said Patrick, “sure, an’ I was beginning to think that it might be the pumping station.”

  The sages say, Dame Truth delights to dwell
  (Strange Mansion!) in the bottom of a well: 
  Questions are then the Windlass and the rope
  That pull the grave old Gentlewoman up.

  —­John Wolcott.

See also Curiosity.

QUOTATIONS

Stanley Jordan, the well-known Episcopal minister, having cause to be anxious about his son’s college examinations, told him to telegraph the result.  The boy sent the following message to his parent:  “Hymn 342, fifth verse, last two lines.”