You might as well admit your guilt, said the detective. The man whose house you broke into positively identifies you as the burglar.
That’s funny, said the burglar.
What’s funny? asked the detective.
How could he identify me when he had his head under the bedclothes all the time I was in his room?
Mark Twain once addressed an audience in the interest of his fellow townsman, General Joseph Hawley, who was a candidate for re-election to the United States Senate, and said, in the course of a droll address—General Hawley deserves your support, although he has about as much influence in purifying the Senate as a bunch of flowers would have in sweetening a glue factory. But he’s all right; he never would turn any poor beggar away from his door empty handed. He always gives them something—almost without exception a letter of introduction to me, urging me to help them.
Wallingford is entertaining a number of men at the hotel who have invested several thousands of dollars in his wildcat scheme. A newspaper man comes in and asks him:
Is this a surprise party, Mr. Wallingford?