A story is told of a man who, having submitted himself to the manipulation of a venerable barber was told: "Do you know, sah, you remind me so much of Dan'l Webster?"
"Indeed," he said, "shape of my head, I suppose?"
This staggered the aged colored man somewhat. He had not expected that there would be a call for an explanatory superstructure. "No, sah," he stammered in reply; "not yo' head, sah, it's yo' breff."
"Speaking of mushrooms and toadstools, gentlemen," chimed in Dumley, "a friend of mine not long ago gathered a quantity of what he supposed were mushrooms, and took 'em home. His wife cooked 'em and the whole family ate heartily of 'em."
"And did they all die?" inquired the crowd, very much shocked.
"No, they happened to be mushrooms, you see," replied Dumley with a far-a-away look in his eye, "but it was a narrow escape."
He was enjoying an ear of corn in the good, old-fashioned way. "You look as if you were playing the flute," his hostess remarked, smiling. "Oh, no," was the amiable retort; "It's a cornet I'm playing, by ear."