"I hope he is not sick."
There was an anxious pause. "No, he is not sick," continued the mother. "It grieves me to say, Richard, that our son, your son, has been heard swearing on the street. I heard him myself."
"Swearing!" exclaimed the father. "I'll teach him to swear!"
And with that the angry parent started up-stairs in the dark. Half-way up he stumbled and came down with his chin on the top step.
When the confusion had subsided Harry's mother was heard saying from the hallway: "That will do, Richard, dear. You have given him enough for one lesson."
Sometime ago a pious young clerical prevailed on a rather profane aviator to take him for a flight. After attaining several thousand feet the motor suddenly stopped, revealing to the uttermost the aviator's gift of profanity.
The alarmed pastor excitedly demanded if there was any danger. The pilot replied sarcastically that there would be prayer instead of profanity if there was any danger.
The motor "cut in" again and the flight continued. Suddenly the motor stopped again and notwithstanding the pilot's efforts, accompanied by the usual lurid language, he was forced to alight. Just as he flattened out for his landing, the pilot was disconcerted by hearing the parson exclaim in fervid tones: "Thank God the aviator is still swearing."