“My name is Specknoodle,” he volunteered.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said sympathetically, as she left the car.
A Jew crossing the Brooklyn Bridge met a friend who said, “Abe, I’ll bet you ten dollars that I can tell you exactly what you’re thinking about.”
“Vell,” agreed Abe, producing a greasy bill, “I’ll haf to take dot bet. Put up your money.”
The friend produced two fives. “Abe,” he said, “you are thinking of going over to Brooklyn, buying a small stock of goods, renting a small store, taking out all the fire-insurance that you can possibly get, and then burning out. Do I win my bet?”
“Vell,” replied Abe, “you don’t egsactly vin, but the idea is worth de money. Take id.”
Andrew Carnegie tells a good story illustrating the canniness of the Scot.
An Irish friend had insisted that a Scotchman should stay at his house, instead of at a hotel, and kept him there for a month, playing the host in detail, even to treating him to sundry visits to the theater, paying the cab fares and the rest. When the visitor was returning home, the Irishman saw him to the station, and they went together to have a last cigar.