“Why, sister Abigail!” replies the minister.  “You have no husband as yet.”

“Yes, but I want you all to pitch in an’ pray for one for me!” Some time ago the wife of an assisstant state officer gave a party to a lot of old maids of her town.  She asked each one to bring a photograph of the man who had tried to woo and wed her.  Each of the old maids brought a photograph and they were all pictures of the same man, the hostess’s husband.

Maude Adams was one day discussing with her old negro “mammy” the approaching marriage of a friend.

“When is you gwine to git married, Miss Maudie?” asked the mammy, who took a deep interest in her talented young mistress.

“I don’t know, mammy,” answered the star.  “I don’t think I’ll ever get married.”

“Well,” sighed mammy, in an attempt to be philosophical, “they do say ole maids is the happies’ kind after they quits strugglin’.”

  Here’s to the Bachelor, so lonely and gay,
  For it’s not his fault, he was born that way;
  And here’s to the Spinster, so lonely and good;
  For it’s not her fault, she hath done what she could.

An old maid on the wintry side of fifty, hearing of the marriage of a pretty young lady, her friend, observed with a deep and sentimental sigh:  “Well, I suppose it is what we must all come to.”

A famous spinster, known throughout the country for her charities, was entertaining a number of little girls from a charitable institution.  After the luncheon, the children were shown through the place, in order that they might enjoy the many beautiful things it contained.

“This,” said the spinster, indicating a statue, “is Minerva.”

“Was Minerva married?” asked one of the little girls.

“No, my child,” said the spinster, with a smile; “Minerva was the Goddess of Wisdom.”—­E.T.

  There once was a lonesome, lorn spinster,
  And luck had for years been ag’inst her;
    When a man came to burgle
    She shrieked, with a gurgle,
  “Stop thief, while I call in a min’ster!”

SPITE

Think twice before you speak, and then you may be able to say something more aggraviting than if you spoke right out at once.

A man had for years employed a steady German workman.  One day Jake came to him and asked to be excused from work the next day.

“Certainly, Jake,” beamed the employer.  “What are you going to do?”

“Vall,” said Jake slowly.  “I tink I must go by mein wife’s funeral.  She dies yesterday.”

After the lapse of a few weeks Jake again approached his boss for a day off.

“All right, Jake, but what are you going to do this time?”

“Aber,” said Jake, “I go to make me, mit mein fraeulein, a wedding.”

“What?  So soon?  Why, it’s only been three weeks since you buried your wife.”

“Ach!” replied Jake, “I don’t hold spite long.”