“Jawn L. Sullivan.”
Inspiration seizes the Hebrew.
“The Twelve Apostles,” he whoops exultingly, and snatches an even dozen of auburn hairs from where they grew.
With a triumphant whooroo the Irishman fixes both his hands in the Hebrew’s beard:
“The A.O.H.!” he bellows, and brings away the entire crop.
§ 268 Filling a Long-Felt Want
An amateur investigator made a trip to a state lunatic asylum. While strolling about the grounds he happened upon an old man of a benign aspect sitting under a tree.
“Good evening,” said the venerable gentleman. “A stranger here I assume?”
“Yes,” said the caller. “I am. I take it that you, too, are a visitor.”
“Unfortunately,” said the old gentleman, “I am an inmate.”