When J. M. Barrie addressed an audience of one thousand girls at Smith College during an American visit, a friend asked him how he had found the experience.
“Well,” replied Mr. Barrie, “to tell you the truth I’d much rather talk one thousand times to one girl than to talk one time to a thousand girls.”
The Rev. Mr. Goodman (inspecting himself in mirror)—“Caroline, I don’t really believe I ought to wear this wig. It looks like living a lie.”
“Bless your heart, Avery,” said his better half, “don’t let that trouble you. That wig will never fool anybody for one moment.”
A young man had been calling now and then on a young lady, when one night as he sat in the parlor waiting for her to come down, her mother entered the room instead and asked in a grave, stern way what his intentions were. He was about to stammer a reply, when suddenly the young lady called down from the head of the stairs, “Oh, mama, that isn’t the one.”
A woman hurried up to a policeman at the corner of Twenty-third Street in New York City.