“Holy St. Patrick!” replied the recruit; “if he’d do that to Lord Roberts, what would he do to plain Mike Flanagan?”

A mud-spattered dough-boy slouched into the “Y” hut where an entertainment was in progress and slumped into a front seat.

Firm, kindly, and efficient, a Y.M.C.A. man approached him, saying:  “Sorry, buddy, but the entire front section is reserved for officers.”

Wearily the youth rose.

“All right,” he drawled, “but the one I just got back from wasn’t.”

A well-dressed stranger strolled up to a colored prisoner, who was taking a long interval of rest between two heaves of a pick.

“Well, Sam, what crime did you commit to be put in those overalls and set under guard?”

“Ah went on a furlong, sah.”

“Went on a furlong?  You mean you went on a furlough.”

“No, boss, it was a sho’ nuff furlong.  Ah went too fur, and Ah stayed too long.”

An officer of the A.E.F. relates the following:  “We had a bunch of negro troops on board and it was a terrible experience to them, as most of them had never been away from home before.  They were very religious and used to pray all over the ship.  One big buck held a prayer right outside my window, thus:  ’O Lord, if Thou doesn’t do another thing on this trip, call this ocean to attention.’”

CAPTAIN (speaking to raw recruit trying to drill)—­“What was your occupation before entering the army?”

ROOKIE—­“Traveling salesman, sir.”

CAPTAIN—­“Stick around; you’ll get plenty of orders here.”

MILK

“You are charged with selling adulterated milk,” said the judge.

“Your Honor, I plead not guilty.”

“But the testimony shows that it is 25 per cent water.”

“Then it must be high-grade milk,” returned the plaintiff.  “If your Honor will look up the word ‘milk’ in your dictionary you will find that it contains from 80 to 90 per cent water.  I should have sold it for cream!”

The morning milk delivered at the parsonage was certainly weak, and the head of the household considered it necessary to remonstrate.  “Are you aware,” he remarked to the milkman, “that we require this milk for the hitherto recognized purposes?”

“I hope so, sir,” replied the tradesman.

“That’s all right, then,” returned the parson gently; “I merely mentioned it in case you may have thought we wanted it for the font.”

On the outskirts of Philadelphia is an admirable stock farm.  One day last summer some poor children were permitted to go over this farm, and when their inspection was done, to each of them was given a glass of milk.  The milk was excellent.

“Well, boys, how do you like it?” the farmer said, when they had drained their glasses.

“Fine,” said one little fellow.  Then after a pause, he added, “I wisht our milkman kept a cow.”