Bonner approached one of them and said, interrogatively,—
“Had any trouble on the road?”
“No, brother,” said the gentleman, “none that I know of. And now I’ll ask you a question. Do you know a gentleman named Bonner?”
“Yes, I am Mr. Bonner,” was the answer.
“Well, these brethren and myself are Dunkards, and you were to meet us and put us on the right train. Didn’t you get a telegram?”
Bonner was completely done for. He excused himself, and, calling the sergeant of police aside, he told him that it was all a mistake, and he and his men could go back to head-quarters. Then he disposed of his religious friends, went around and cussed the telegraph operator, after which he had to “set ’em up” for the whole police force on the promise to keep mum.
The Economy of Nature
A young man on a Staten Island boat explained to his fair companion that Robbin’s Reef Light-house was built upon a rock in the bay.
“Ah, yes,” said she. “Funny that the rock should be just where they wanted a light-house, wasn’t it?”