When a political stump speaker, from the wild and windy West, after a very high-falutin flight of oratory paused to gulp down two tumblers of ice-water, old Hayseed arose in one of the front benches and called out: “Well, I’ll be durned if this hain’t the fust time I ever see a windmill run by water.”
Which goes well with what we read of a newly elected senator. He was pounding his desk and waving his arms in an impassioned appeal to the Senate.
“What do you think of him?” whispered Senator K——, of New Jersey, to the impassive Senator K——, of Pennsylvania.
“Oh, he can’t help it,” answered K——. “It’s a birth mark.”
“A—what?”
“A birth mark,” repeated K——. “His mother was scared by a windmill.”
THE THREE ASSES
In his “Scotch Reminiscences” Dean Ramsay relates that a certain ruling elder, by the name of David, was well known in the district as a very shrewd and ready-witted man. He received visits from many people who liked a banter or were fond of a good joke. One day three young theological students called on the old man, intending to sharpen their wits upon him and have some fun at his expense.
Said the first, “Well, Father Abraham, how are you to-day?”
“You are wrong,” said the second. “This is not Father Abraham. This is Father Isaac.”