“That depends,” answered Pat, “on whose yard you get into.”

A middle-aged farmer accosted a serious-faced youth outside the Grand Central Station in New York the other day.

“Young man,” he said, plucking his sleeve, “I wanter go to Central Park.”

The youth seemed lost in consideration for a moment.

“Well,” he said finally, “you may just this once.  But I don’t want you ever, ever to ask me again.”

SEEDY VISITOR—­“Do you have many wrecks about here, boatman?”

BOATMAN—­“Not very many, sir.  You’re the first I’ve seen this season.”

HER DAD—­“No, sir; I won’t have my daughter tied for life to a stupid fool.”

HER SUITOR—­“Then don’t you think you’d better let me take her off your hands?”

Wendell Phillips was traveling through Ohio once when he fell in with a car full of ministers returning from a convention.  One of the ministers, a southerner from Kentucky, was naturally not very cordial to the opinions of the great abolitionist and set out to embarrass Mr. Phillips.  So, before the group of ministers, he said: 

“You are Wendell Phillips, are you not?”

“Yes,” answered the great abolitionist.

“And you are trying to free the niggers, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir; I am.”

“Well, why do you preach your doctrines up here?  Why don’t you go over into Kentucky?”

“Excuse me, are you a preacher?”

“I am, sir.”

“Are you trying to save souls from hell?”

“Yes, sir; that is my business.”

“Well, why don’t you go there then?” asked Mr. Phillips.

SOLEMN SENIOR—­“So your efforts to get on the team were fruitless, were they?”

FOOLISH FRESHMAN—­“Oh, no!  Not at all.  They gave me a lemon.”—­Harvard
Lampoon.

A benevolent person watched a workman laboriously windlassing rock from a shaft while the broiling sun was beating down on his bare head.

“My dear man,” observed the onlooker, “are you not afraid that your brain will be affected in the hot sun?”

The laborer contemplated him for a moment and then replied: 

“Do you think a man with any brains would be working at this kind of a job?”

Winston Churchill, the young English statesman, recently began to raise a mustache, and while it was still in the budding stage he was asked at a dinner party to take in to dinner an English girl who had decided opposing political views.

“I am sorry,” said Mr. Churchill, “we cannot agree on politics.”

“No, we can’t,” rejoined the girl, “for to be frank with you I like your politics about as little as I do your mustache.”

“Well,” replied Mr. Churchill, “remember that you are not likely to come into contact with either.”

Strickland Gillilan, the lecturer and the man who pole-vaulted into fame by his “Off Ag’in, On Ag’in, Finnigin” verses, was about to deliver a lecture in a small Missouri town.  He asked the chairman of the committee whether he might have a small pitcher of ice-water on the platform table.