A QUESTION OF PEDIGREE.
"Now who is that?" asked a dignified hen;
"That chicken in white and gray?
She's very well dressed, but from whence did she come?
And her family, who are they?"
"She never can move in our set, my dear,"
Said the old hen's friend to her, later;
"I've just found out—you'll be shocked to hear—
She was hatched in an incubator!"
Patrick, in answer to an advertisement for a coachman, applied for the position. He was one of three applicants, and patiently waited until his turn arrived to offer his services. The gentleman who wanted the coachman loved a joke, and when the first applicant had answered a few of his questions, he finally asked him,
"How near to the edge of a precipice would you undertake to drive my carriage?"
"Your Honor, I'd come within a foot of it."
The same question was put to the second applicant, who replied,
"I'll drive within three inches of it all the way, and never slip a wheel."
Patrick was then asked what he would do. "Faith, your Honor, I'd kape as far away from the idge as possible." Patrick was engaged.
Every boy and girl has doubtless heard of the great composer Handel. Here is a little story told of him and of Dr. Maurice Green, a musician whose compositions were never remarkably fine. It seems he had sent a solo anthem to Handel for his opinion, and Handel invited him to take breakfast, and he would say what he thought of it. After coffee, Green's patience became exhausted, and he said, "Well, sir, what did you think of it?"
"Oh, your anthem! Ah, I did t'ink dat it wanted air."
"Air!" cried Green.
"Yes, air; and so I did hang it out of de vindow," replied Handel.
"James," asked the school-teacher, "what do you do with your odd moments after school?"
"I waits until they adds up into an hour, and then I goes fishin'."
Freddy (five years old). "Boys, keep away from me."
Chorus. "Why, what's the matter?"
Freddy. "The teacher said I was sharp to-day, and you might get cut."
Mother. "Frank, what is baby crying about?"
Frank. "I guess because I took his cake and showed him how to eat it."
There is a story going the rounds of the British press about two very distinguished archæologists—Sir William Wilde and Dr. Donovan. It seems that these two gentlemen made an excursion to the Isles of Arran, where interesting remains of archæological nature have been found.
They came across a little rough stone building, and both entered into a fierce argument as to the exact century of its erection. Finally each claimed a date, one giving it the sixth century, and the other a later one.
A native who had listened with gaping mouth and ears to the lengthy and learned terms used by the disputants, broke into the conversation with the remark, "Faix, you're both wrong as far as that little buildin' is consarned; it was built just two years ago by Tim Doolan for his jackass."