PRESENCE OF MIND.
A passenger on a transatlantic liner had been sick for five days in succession. One evening he felt somewhat better, and promenaded the saloon for some time. About ten o’clock he thought of retiring to his stateroom, which was on the upper deck. Before leaving the saloon he sought the steward and said:
“I want you to send me some hot water for shaving at half past six in the morning. Will you remember it?”
The steward promised, and the passenger started up the saloon companionway. The steps were brass-covered and very slippery. He reached the first landing all right, but slipped on the first step of the second and came rattling all the way down again. He was picked up rather battered, but not a bit disconcerted.
“Steward,” he said gravely, “I just came back to tell you not to forget that hot water at half past six in the morning.”