“Mother,” said a college student who had brought his chum home for the holidays, “permit me to present my friend, Mr. Specknoodle.”
His mother, who was a little hard of hearing, placed her hand to her ear.
“I’m sorry, George, but I didn’t quite catch your friend’s name. You’ll have to speak a little louder, I’m afraid.”
“I say, mother,” shouted George, “I want to present my friend Mr. Specknoodle.”
“I’m sorry, George, but Mr. —— What was the name again?”
“Mr. Specknoodle!” George fairly yelled.
The old lady shook her head sadly.
“I’m sorry, George, but I’m afraid it’s no use. It sounds just like Specknoodle to me.”
A young American lady on a visit to London was being shown some of the sights by a boastful Englishman. “This is a cannon captured at Bunker Hill,” said the Englishman. “How interesting,” exclaimed the lady. “I must explain,” said the gentleman tauntingly, “that this cannon was captured from the Americans by the English.” The lady quietly retorted, “Well, you have the cannon; we have the hill.”