Pete Johnson was a tall, green, raw-boned country negro, and knew nothing of city life or polished society. Recently he became tired of tilling the soil by the month, journeyed to the metropolis, and let himself as a waiter on board a steamer which plies up and down the Sound on the New York, Norwich, and Boston line. As is customary with new waiters, in order to train them to ease, and give them the necessary polish and experience, he was required at first to attend the officers' tables exclusively. But one evening, after a few weeks' service, there came a great rush of passengers, and, of course, the supper-room was thronged. Pete was sent to the public tables for the first time. He got along very well until a guest called for an omelet. This was a new dish to the green waiter, but he thought he understood the order correctly, and with his usual gravity, stepped up to the kitchen door and cried out, "An almanac!"
THE LAST COMPLIMENT.—506.
A story is told of a very polite sheriff and a very polite criminal. "Sir," said the culprit, as the sheriff was carefully adjusting the rope, "really your attention deserves my thanks; in fact, I do not know anybody I should rather have hang me." "Really," said the sheriff, "you are pleased to be complimentary. I do not know of another individual it would give me so much pleasure to hang."
PRECEPT AND PRACTICE.—507.
Dr. Channing had a brother a physician, and at one time they both dwelt in Boston. A countryman was in search of the doctor. The following dialogue ensued:—"Does Dr. Channing live here?"—"Yes, sir." "Can I see him?"—"I am he." "Who, you?"—"Yes, sir." "You must have altered considerably since I heard you preach."—"Heard me preach?" "Certainly! you are the Dr. Channing that preaches, ain't you?"—"Oh! I see you are mistaken now; 'tis my brother who preaches; I'm the doctor who practises."
A FAIR RETORT.—508.
Mr. Cobden, in one of his speeches, said that he once asked an enthusiastic American lady why her country could not rest satisfied with the immense unoccupied territories it already possesses, but must ever be lusting after the lands of its neighbours. Her somewhat remarkable reply was, "Oh! the propensity is a very bad one, I admit; but we came honestly by it, for we inherited it from you."
DR. FRANKLIN.—509.
The town of Franklin, in Massachusetts, was named in honour of Benjamin Franklin, the printer philosopher. While in France, a gentleman in Boston wrote to him of the fact, and added, that as the town was building a meeting-house, perhaps he would give them a bell. Franklin wrote the characteristic reply, that he presumed that the good people of F. would prefer sense to sound, and therefore he would give them a library. This he did, and the library is now in good condition, and has been of great service to the intelligent people of that pleasant town.