In Missouri, where they raise more mules and children than in any other place in the world, a certain resident died possessed of seventeen mules and three sons. In his will he disposed of the mules as follows: One-half to the eldest son, one-third to the next, and one-ninth to the youngest.
The administrator who went to divide the property drove a span of mules out to the farm, but when he went to divide the seventeen into halves, thirds, and ninths he found it was impossible with live mules; mules not being very valuable, he unhitched one of his own, putting it with the other seventeen, making eighteen, when he proceeded to divide as follows: One-half, or nine to the eldest, one third, or six, to the next son, and one-ninth, or two, to the youngest. Adding up nine, six, two, he found that it made seventeen, so he hitched up his mule and went home rejoicing.—Ladies Home Journal.
"Now, Harold," said the teacher, "if there were eleven sheep in a field and six jumped the fence how many would there be left?"
"None," replied Harold.
"Why, but there would," said she.
"No, ma'am, there wouldn't," persisted he. "You may know arithmetic, but you don't know sheep."
One day, as Pat halted at the top of the river-bank, a man famous for his inquisitive mind stopped and asked: