“Never ask a woman to mend anything,” he said. “You haven’t been married very long, and I think I can give you some serviceable suggestions. When I want a shirt mended I take it to my wife, flourish it around a little and say, ‘Where’s that rag-bag?’
“‘What do you want of the rag-bag?’ asks my wife. Her suspicions are roused at once.
“‘I want to throw this shirt away; it’s worn out,’ I say, with a few more flourishes.
“‘Let me see that shirt,’ my wife says then. ‘Now, John, hand it to me at once.’
“Of course, I pass it over, and she examines it. ‘Why, John Taylor,’ she is sure to say, ‘I never knew such extravagance! This is a perfectly good shirt. All it needs is——’ And then she mends it.”
A browbeating counsel asked a witness how far he had been from a certain place. “Just four yards, two feet, and six inches,” was the reply. “How come you to be so exact, my friend?” “I expected some fool or other would ask me, so I measured it.”
“Now, see here, porter,” said the drummer briskly, “I want you to put me off at Syracuse. You know we get in there about six o’clock in the morning, and I may over-sleep myself. But it is important that I should get out. Here’s a five-dollar gold piece. Now, I may wake up hard. Don’t mind if I kick. Pay no attention if I’m ugly. I want you to put me off the train no matter how hard I fight. Understand?”
“Yes, sah,” answered the sturdy Nubian. “It shall be did, sah!”