TEACHER—­“Now, Johnny, suppose I should borrow $100 from your father and should pay him $10 a month for ten months, how much would I then owe him?”

JOHNNY—­“About $3 interest.”

“See how I can count, mama,” said Kitty.  “There’s my right foot.  That’s one.  There’s my left foot.  That’s two.  Two and one make three.  Three feet make a yard, and I want to go out and play in it!”

“Two old salts who had spent most of their lives on fishing smacks had an argument one day as to which was the better mathematician,” said George C. Wiedenmayer the other day.  “Finally the captain of their ship proposed the following problem which each would try to work out:  ’If a fishing crew caught 500 pounds of cod and brought their catch to port and sold it at 6 cents a pound, how much would they receive for the fish?’

“Well, the two old fellows got to work, but neither seemed able to master the intricacies of the deal in fish, and they were unable to get any answer.

“At last old Bill turned to the captain and asked him to repeat the problem.  The captain started off:  ’If a fishing crew caught 500 pounds of cod and—.’

“‘Wait a moment,’ said Bill, ‘is it codfish they caught?’

“‘Yep,’ said the captain.

“‘Darn it all,’ said Bill.  ’No wonder I couldn’t get an answer.  Here I’ve been figuring on salmon all the time.’”

ARMIES

A new volunteer at a national guard encampment who had not quite learned his business, was on sentry duty, one night, when a friend brought a pie from the canteen.

As he sat on the grass eating pie, the major sauntered up in undress uniform.  The sentry, not recognizing him, did not salute, and the major stopped and said: 

“What’s that you have there?”

“Pie,” said the sentry, good-naturedly.  “Apple pie.  Have a bite?”

The major frowned.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“No,” said the sentry, “unless you’re the major’s groom.”

The major shook his head.

“Guess again,” he growled.

“The barber from the village?”

“No.”

“Maybe”—­here the sentry laughed—­“maybe you’re the major himself?”

“That’s right.  I am the major,” was the stern reply.

The sentry scrambled to his feet.

“Good gracious!” he exclaimed.  “Hold the pie, will you, while I present arms!”

The battle was going against him.  The commander-in-chief, himself ruler of the South American republic, sent an aide to the rear, ordering General Blanco to bring up his regiment at once.  Ten minutes passed; but it didn’t come.  Twenty, thirty, and an hour—­still no regiment.  The aide came tearing back hatless, breathless.

“My regiment!  My regiment!  Where is it?  Where is it?” shrieked the commander.

“General,” answered the excited aide, “Blanco started it all right, but there are a couple of drunken Americans down the road and they won’t let it go by.”