Part 57 (1/2)

”No.”

”Have yez any jellyfish?”

”No.”

”All right,” said the Irishman. ”Then bring me ham and eggs and a beefsteak smothered wid onions. The Lord knows I asked for fish.”

Mr. Halloran returned from a political meeting with his interest aroused. ”There's eight nations represented in this ward of ours,” he said, as he began to count them off on his fingers. ”There's Irish, Frinch, Eyetalians, Poles, Germans, Roos.h.i.+ans, Greeks, an'--” Mr.

Halloran stopped and began again: ”There's Irish, Frinch, Eyetalians, Poles, Germans, Roos.h.i.+ans, Greeks, an'--I can't seem to remember the other wan. There's Irish, Frinch--” ”Maybe 'twas Americans,” suggested Mrs. Halloran. ”Sure, that's it, I couldn't think.”

The solemnity of the meeting was somewhat disturbed when the eloquent young theologian pictured in glowing words the selfishness of men who spend their evenings at the club, leaving their wives in loneliness at home at the holiday season. ”Think, my hearers,” said he, ”of a poor, neglected wife, all alone in the great, dreary house, rocking the cradle of her sleeping babe with one foot and wiping away her tears with the other!”

Two charming girls with Mr. Danvers, who was very shy, were watching the dancing waves. Conversation was carried on with difficulty.

Finally Maude ventured the remark:

”Don't you hate the seaside, Mr. Danvers, with its glare and noise and general vulgarity?”

Mr. Danvers replied fervently with a smile and downcast eyes: ”Oh, d-d-d-don't I, that's all!”

Then Miss Lilian followed up the subject and said: ”What, hate the seaside, Mr. Danvers?--with the fresh air and blue waves, and the delightful lounge after bathing, and the lawn-tennis and the Cinderella dances! I dote on it, and I should have thought you did, too!”

Whereupon Mr. Danvers stammered still more fervently: ”Oh--I-I-I should think I did!”

And the waves kept on splas.h.i.+ng merrily.

Just before the collection was taken up one Sunday morning a negro clergyman announced that he regretted to state that a certain brother had forgotten to lock the door of his chicken-house the night before, and as a result in the morning he found that most of the fowls had disappeared. ”I doan' want to be pussonal, bredr'n,” he added, ”but I hab my s'picions as to who stole dem chickens. I also hab reason fo'

b'lievin' dat if I am right in dose s'picions dat pusson won't put any money in de plate which will now be pa.s.sed around.”

The result was a fine collection; not a single member of the congregation feigned sleep. After it was counted the old parson came forward.

”Now, bredr'n,” he said, ”I doan' want your dinners to be spoilt by wonderin' where dat brudder lives who doan' lock his chickens up at night. Dat brudder doan' exist, mah friends. He was a parable gotten up fo' purpose of finances.”

A minister in a Western town was called upon one afternoon to perform the marriage ceremony between a negro couple--the negro preacher of the town being absent from home.

After the ceremony the groom asked the price of the service.

”Oh, well,” said the minister, ”you can pay me whatever you think it is worth to you.”

The negro turned and silently looked his bride over from head to foot, then slowly rolling up the whites of his eyes, said: