“I want to know,” said the irate matron, “how much money my husband drew out of this bank last week.” “I can’t give you that information, ma’am,” answered the man in the cage. “You’re the paying teller, aren’t you?” “Yes, but I’m not the telling payer.”
A lady once showed her little girl a beautiful new silk dress which had just arrived from the dressmaker, and by way of improving the occasion she said: “You know, dear, all this was given us by a poor worm.” The little girl looked puzzled for a minute or two and then said: “Do you mean dad, mama?”
When Blaine was a young lawyer, and cases were few, he was asked to defend a poverty-stricken tramp accused of stealing a watch. He pleaded with all the ardor at his command, drawing so pathetic a picture with such convincing energy that at the close of his argument the court was in tears and even the tramp wept. The jury deliberated but a few minutes and returned the verdict “not guilty.” Then the tramp drew himself up, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the future “Plumed Knight,” and said: “Sir, I have never heard so grand a plea, I have not cried before since I was a child. I have no money with which to reward you, but (drawing a package from the depths of his ragged clothes), here’s that watch; take it and welcome.”
The other day an ingenious-looking person called with the message to the housewife that her husband had sent him for his dress suit, which was to be pressed and redone by the tailor.
“Dear me,” said the housewife, “he said nothing to me about it. Did he look quite well?”
“Yes, mum; he wuz in good health and spirits.”
“And he seemed quite as if he knew what he was about?”