"EARLY ENGLISH."
From wise professors, Brother Ned,
In the college town,
Was learning "early English."
My! how it made him frown!
While baby sister Annie
Cooed at home in glee,
In purest early English—
'Twas as easy as could be!
Some Irishmen are naturally stupid, but their mistakes are at times so humorous as to provoke a laugh, which makes one forget the more serious part of the error. Recently a son of Ireland went out rowing on a lake at a famous summer resort. A stiff northwest wind came up, and not being skilful with the oars, in a short time his boat shipped considerable water.
A brilliant idea then seized him, and taking the butt end of the oar he battered away at the planks in the bottom of the boat, finally knocking a hole in them. Fortunately for him a steam-launch with a pleasure party aboard came along and rescued him as his boat sank. Upon being asked why on earth he drove a hole through the boat, he replied:
"An' phwat else would yez do? Sure the boat was half full of water, an' so oi knocked a hole in the bottom to let it out; but, yez see, there was so much more water in the lake that the little bit of a stream in my boat had no chance to get out."
Some time ago I read a little anecdote of Longfellow which illustrated his love for children. It seems that one little fellow in particular was fond of spending his time in the great poet's library. One day, after a long and patient perusal of the titles (to him great cumbersome works) that lined the shelves, the little chap walked up to Longfellow, and asked in a grieved sort of way, "Haven't you got a Jack the Giant Killer?" Longfellow regretted to say that in all his immense library he did not have a copy.
The little chap looked at him in a pitying way, and silently left the room.
The next morning he walked in with a couple of pennies tightly clasped in his chubby fist, and laying them down, told the poet that he could now buy a Jack the Giant Killer of his own.
We hear of veterans who have survived the wars of years ago, but here is a poor old veteran of the civil war, and it is claimed the only one living of his kind. His name is Ned, and he was captured near Washington by a scouting party from General Jubal Early's corps. For years Ned has taken part in the different memorial events and parades of the G.A.R. But during a recent parade in Louisville his declining years prevented his marching to the stirring music of the bands.
It grieved the poor old fellow's heart so that, as a compromise, his comrades provided him with a float, upon which he mounted, and was dragged through the streets, his kindly old head nodding to the time of the band. As you have doubtless guessed, Ned is an old war-horse, and it is said he has missed but one Decoration-day parade, and has reached the ripe old age of forty years.
Mother (to Albert, who came home from school looking very blue). "Why, you appear unhappy, Albert. Didn't you learn your lessons to-day?"
Albert. "Oh yes, I learned not to be sassy!"
Little Alice heard her father say that her Cousin Jack has the small-pox, and exclaimed, "Oh, papa, I think it's real mean of Jack not to send me any."
Papa. "Jack, what are you crying about?"
Jack. "The conjurer at the circus to-day took five pigeons out of my hat, and kept them for himself."
Tom. "Papa, I want a bicycle."
Papa. "Well, Tom, and what will you furnish towards getting it?"
Tom (thinking deeply a moment). "I'll furnish the wind for the tires."