On his return home the nobleman started for the spot.  When he reached it he rubbed his eyes in amazement.  There was the new stone wall, but he could see nothing towering up inside of it.  He turned excitedly to his steward: 

“Look here, where’s the ruin, man?”

“The ruin, my lord?” replied the steward.  “Oh, that ould thing!  Sure, I used it to build the wall with.”

RUMMAGE SALES

“Oh, John,” sobbed Mrs. John, “I’ve done something awful, and I’m almost afraid to tell you—­but I must!  I made a most awful mistake this morning and sent your new dress suit to the rummage sale instead of your old one, and when I found out what I had done and ran over to get it back, it had been sold.”

“That’s all right, Mabel, dear,” said John amiably.  “I stopped in at the sale myself and bought it back for thirty-five cents.”

SACRIFICES

“George, where are your school-books?”

“When notices appeared that books were wanted for the wounded, I gave mine to them.”

“But, my dear,” said his wife, after he had complained about the food the new cook had brought in.  “You know during these terrible times it is absolutely necessary that we make great sacrifices.”

“Oh, of course, but what I object to is that cook’s making hers in the form of a burnt offering.”

SAFETY

Throughout the trial the Englishman, whose crimes had been many and black, bore himself with an air of complete indifference and received the sentence of the supreme penalty with a bored yawn.  After he had been led on to the scaffold and just as the hood and noose were about to be placed over his head, the attendant priest, still persisting in his attempts to awaken penitence, in spite of the doomed man’s deafness to his prayers, asked him again for a final statement.

The prisoner’s gaze wandered to the noose and rested there meditatively.  Suddenly he turned to the priest: 

“See here, old chap,” he demanded, “is this thing perfectly safe?”

Mark Twain once sat in the smoking room of a steamer and listened for an hour to some remarkable stories.  Then he drawled, “Boys, these feats of yours that you’ve been telling about recall an adventure of my own in Hannibal.  There was a fire in Hannibal one night, and Old Man Hankinson got caught in the fourth story of the burning house.  It looked as if he was a goner.  None of the ladders was long enough to reach him.  The crowd stared at one another with awed eyes.  Nobody could think of anything to do.

“Then all of a sudden, boys, an idea occurred to me.  ‘Fetch a rope!’ I yelled.

“Somebody fetched a rope, and with great presence of mind I flung the end of it up to the old man.  ‘Tie her round your waist!’ I yelled.  Old Man Hankinson did so, and I pulled him down.”