“It shows more than that, yer Honor,” interrupted Mrs. Maloney; “it shows that Oi hit him.”
When Mark Twain was a young and struggling newspaper writer, in San Francisco, a lady of his acquaintance saw him one day with a cigar-box under his arm looking in a shop window.
“Mr. Clemens,” she said, “I always see you with a cigar-box under your arm. I am afraid you are smoking too much.”
“It isn’t that,” said Mark. “I’m moving again.”
A thunderstorm overtook the Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria when out shooting in 1873 with old Emperor William of Germany and Victor Emmanuel. The three monarchs got separated from their party and lost their way. They were drenched to the skin, and, in search of shelter, hailed a peasant driving a covered cart drawn by oxen along the high road. The peasant took up the royal trio and drove on.
“And who may you be, for you are a stranger in these parts?” he asked, after a while, of Emperor William.
“I am the Emperor of Germany,” replied his Teutonic majesty.
“Ha, very good,” said the peasant, and then, addressing Victor Emmanuel, “and you, my friend?”