And as uncle went around to the side door he raised his hands to heaven, and with tears of rejoicing running down his furrowed cheeks, said:
“Bress de Lord! I’s back agin among mah own folks!”
A little boy who had just joined Sunday-school was asked by his mother how he liked it.
“Why!” exclaimed Charlie disgustedly, “they don’t know much. The teacher asked what was the collec’, and I was the only one who knew.”
“And what did you say, dear?”
“Why, I told them pretty quick that it was a pain in the stomach.”
Travelers’ tales which often add charm to the conversation of an agreeable person frequently render a bore more tiresome than ever, a fact that was amusingly illustrated by an occurrence in a Baltimore clubhouse not long ago.
“There I stood, gentlemen,” the long-winded narrator was saying, after droning on for an hour with reference to his trip to Switzerland—“there I stood, with the abyss yawning in front of me.”