“Yessir,” replied the man, “there it is.”
“Ah, so it is,” replied Herford, peering at it closely. “I thought it was a crack in the plate.”
In one of the elevators of a city skyscraper, as the elevator shot toward the zenith, a stout man began to sputter. “Bub-but, rt-st-st-b’r’r’r,” he said, as the veins stood out upon his neck. At the twenty-third story the stout man’s eyes were nearly starting from his head, and as he grasped the arm of the elevator man the latter nervously pulled the lever, and the lift started for the bottom at a terrific rate. The solitary passenger danced about, gurgling spasmodically. As the car struck bottom, however, he rushed through the door and up to an important individual, whose cap bore the screed “Starter.” “S-s-s-say,” he sputtered, “t-t-this is the th-th-third trip I-I-I’ve t-t-taken in the elevator, ’n’ I-I-I-I w-w-wanter g-g-g-get off at the sev-sev-seventh fl-fl-fl-floor. Before I-I-I c-c-c-can say sev-sev-seven I-I-I-I’m up to the t-t-top, ’n’ be-be-before I-I-I can cat-cat-catch my br-br-breath I-I-I’m down h-h-here again, ’n’ I-I-I-I’m in a de-de-vil of a hurry.”
Nervous player (deprecatingly playing card)—“I really don’t know what to play. I’m afraid I’ve made a fool of myself.”
Partner (reassuringly)—“That all right. I don’t see what else you could have done!”
Some of Darwin’s boy friends once plotted a surprise for the naturalist. They slew a centipede, glued on it a beetle’s head, and also added to its body the wings of a butterfly and the long legs of a grasshopper. Then they put the new insect in a box and knocked at the great man’s door. “We found this in the fields,” they cried with eager voices. “Do tell us what it can be.” Darwin looked at the strange compound and then at the boys’ innocent faces. “Did it hum when you caught it?” he asked. “Oh yes, sir,” they answered quickly, nudging one another, “it hummed like anything.” “Then,” said the philosopher, “it is a humbug.”