Former Congressman Fred Landis of Indiana has made a reputation for himself as an orator. A year or so ago Landis, speaking at the unveiling of a monument to President Lincoln, uttered the phrase, “Abraham Lincoln—that mystic mingling of star and clod.” This was loudly applauded. After the speech a friend of Landis approached him, and, repeating the phrase, said: “Fred, what in the name of heaven does that mean?” Putting his arm around his friend’s shoulder, Landis replied: “I don’t know, really, but it gets ’em every time.”
Captain Foretopp tells a story of a certain noted divine who was on his steamer when a great gale overtook them off the Oregon coast. “It looks pretty bad,” said the Bishop to the Captain. “Couldn’t be much worse, Bishop,” replied Foretopp.
Half an hour later the steamer was diving under the waves as if she were a submarine and leaking like an old door. “Looks worse, I think, Captain,” said the Bishop. “We must trust in Providence now, Bishop,” answered Foretopp.
“Oh, I hope it has not come to that,” gasped the Bishop.
A couple of New Yorkers were playing golf on a New Jersey course on Election Day when they saw a fine-appearing old gentleman looking at them wistfully. They asked him to join the game, which he did with alacrity. He was mild in speech and manner and played well. But once when he had made a foozle he ejaculated vehemently the word: “Croton!” A few minutes later when he made another bad play, he repeated: “Croton!” The third time he said it, one of his new-made friends said: “I don’t want to be inquisitive, but will you tell me why you say ‘Croton’ so often?” “Well,” said the old gentleman, “isn’t that the biggest dam near New York?” He was a Presbyterian clergyman from Brooklyn.