During the visit of the Shah Nasr-ed-Din to England he dined one night with the then Prince of Wales, now King Edward. Among the courses was one of asparagus, a delicacy unknown to the Shah. He considered it for a time, discovered that the head alone was nice to eat, ate it accordingly and flung the rest of the stalk over his shoulder. The other diners were somewhat flabbergasted, but the tactful Prince, not wishing his Persian guest to feel that he had done anything ridiculous, promptly followed his example, throwing his own stalks over his shoulder. Naturally all the courtiers imitated him in turn, and the amazement of the royal servants was extreme to see the air suddenly full of flying asparagus stalks from one end of the lengthy room to the other.
On one of his frequent trips to the other side, the weather being more than ordinarily rough, and the passengers on deck but few, the late Bishop Potter saw a lady reclining on one of the benches, and the unearthly pallor on her face and the hapless languidity of her manner indicated that she had reached that state of collapse which marks the limit of sea-sickness. “Touched by this piteous spectacle and approaching the poor creature, in my most compassionate tone I asked, ‘Madam, can I be of any service to you?’
“She did not open her eyes, but I heard her murmur faintly: ‘Thank you, sir, but there is nothing you can do—nothing at all.’ ‘At least, madam,’ said I tenderly, ‘permit me to bring you a glass of water.’ She moved her head feebly and answered: ‘No, I thank you—nothing at all.’ ‘But your husband, madam,’ said I, ‘the gentleman lying there with his head in your lap—shall I not bring something to revive him?’ The lady again moved her head feebly, and again she murmured faintly between gasps: ‘Thank you, sir, but—he—is—not—my—husband. I—don’t—know—who he is!’”
“Well, Bobby, how do you like church?” asked his father, as they walked homeward from the sanctuary, to which Bobby had just paid his first visit.
“It’s fine,” ejaculated the young man. “How much did you get, father?”
“How much did I get? Why, what do you mean? How much what?” asked the parent, astonished at this evident irreverence.
“Why, don’t you remember when the funny old man passed the money around? I only got ten cents.”