Part 52 (1/2)

Quite recently an old friend of the Browns went to see them at their new country home. As he approached the house a large dog ran out to the gate and began barking at him through the fence.

As he hesitated about opening the gate, Brown's wife came to the door and exclaimed: ”How do you do! Come right in. Don't mind the dog.”

”But won't he bite?” exclaimed the friend, not anxious to meet the canine without some a.s.surance of his personal safety.

”That's just what I want to find out,” exclaimed Mrs. Brown. ”I just bought him this morning.”

The late Julian Ralph, one of the most gifted newspaper men of his generation, while being shaved one day, was forced to listen to many of the barber's anecdotes.

Stopping to strop his razor, and prepared, with brush in hand to recommence, he said, ”Shall I go over it again?”

”No, thanks,” drawled Ralph, ”It's hardly necessary. I think I can remember every word.”

The following is a typical Ian Maclaren story:

”Who had this place last year?” asked a Southern shooting tenant of his keeper.

”Well,” said Donald, ”I'm not denyin' that he wa.s.s an Englishman, but he wa.s.s a good man whatever. Oh, yess, he went to kirk and he shot very well, but he wa.s.s narrow, very narrow.”

”Narrow,” said the other in amazement, for he supposed he meant bigoted, and the charge was generally the other way about. ”What was he narrow in?”

”Well,” said Donald, ”I will be tellin' you, and it wa.s.s this way. The twelfth [the beginning of the grouse shooting] wa.s.s a very good day, and we had fifty-two brace. But it wa.s.s warm, oh! yess, very warm, and when we came back to the Lodge, the gentleman will say to me, 'It is warm.' and I will not be contradicting him. Then he will be saying, 'Maybe you are thirsty,' and I will not be contradicting him.

Afterwards he will take out his flask and be speaking about a dram. I will not be contradicting him, but will just say, 'Toots, toots.' Then he will be pouring it out, and when the gla.s.s wa.s.s maybe half-full I will say, just for politeness, 'Stop.' And he stopped. Oh! yess, a very narrow man.”

Mark Twain as a humorist is no respecter of persons, and a story is told of him and Bishop Doane which is worth repeating. It occurred when Mark Twain was living in Hartford, where Mr. Doane was then rector of an Episcopal church. Twain had listened to one of the doctor's best sermons, on Sunday morning, when he approached him and said politely: ”I have enjoyed your sermon this morning. I welcomed it as I would an old friend. I have a book in my library that contains every word of it.” ”Impossible, sir,” replied the rector, indignantly.

”Not at all. I a.s.sure you it is true,” said Twain. ”Then I shall trouble you to send me that book,” rejoined the rector with dignity.

The next morning Dr. Doane received, with Mark Twain's compliments, a dictionary.

A friend of Mark Twain's tells of an amusing incident in connection with the first meeting between the humorist and the late James McNeil Whistler, the artist.

The friend having facetiously warned Clemens that the painter was a confirmed joker, Mark solemnly averred that he would get the better of Whistler should the latter attempt ”any funny business.” Furthermore, Twain determined to antic.i.p.ate Whistler, if possible.

So, when the two had been introduced, which event took place in Whistler's studio, Clemens, a.s.suming an air of hopeless stupidity, approached a just-completed painting, and said:

”Not at all bad, Mr. Whistler, not at all bad. Only,” he added, reflectively, with a motion as if to rub out a cloud effect, ”if I were you I'd do away with that cloud.”

”Great Heavens, sir!” exclaimed Whistler, almost beside himself. ”Do be careful not to touch that; the paint is not yet dry!”