Tommy—“Ma, I met the minister on my way to Sunday-school and he asked me if I ever went fishing on Sunday.”
Mother—“And what did you say, darling?”
Tommy—“I said, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan,’ and ran right away from him.”
“My hair is falling out,” admitted the timid man in the chemist’s. “Can you recommend something to keep it in?”
“Certainly,” replied the obliging assistant. “Here is a nice cardboard box.”
An eloquent evangelist who was holding a series of protracted meetings had been interrupted on several occasions by the departure of some one of the audience. He determined to prevent further annoyance by making an example of the next one so doing. Therefore, when a young man arose to depart in the middle of a discourse, he said: “Young man, would you rather go to hell than listen to this sermon?” The individual addressed stopped midway up the aisle and, turning slowly about, answered: “Well, to tell the truth, I don’t know but I would.”
Mr. Seabury and his wife were on the point of moving to another flat. Both of them were anxious that the transfer should be made at the least possible expense, and the nearness of the new home promised materially to further this aim.