“And you want m-me to g-give you p-points on st-stocks?”
“In exchange for my points on horses. Yes.”
“Well, I’ll give you a f-first rate p-point. If you’ve made that much in two y-years, st-stick to your b-b-business. It is a f-first-rate p-point.”
One day, many years ago, Mr. Travers was standing on the curb of New street, opposite the Exchange, buying some stock from a gentleman whose aspect was unmistakably of the Hebrew stamp.
“Wh-wh-what is your name?” asked Travers.
“Jacobs,” responded the seller.
“B-b-but wh-what is your Christian name?” reiterated Travers.
The Hebrew was non-plussed, and the crowd was convulsed with laughter.
The first time Mr. Travers attempted to find Montague street, in Brooklyn, he lost his way, although he was near the place. Meeting a man he said:
“I desire to r-reach M-montague st-street. W-will you b-be kik-kind enough to pup-point the way?”