The family had returned from church one Sunday, and as they had company to dinner, and dinner was a little later than usual, the six-year-old Robert was very hungry and could hardly wait any longer. He had been very much interested in the sermon, which was a very graphic account of the creation of woman. He had listened wide-eyed while the minister told how God had put Adam to sleep and had taken a rib out of his side and made it into a wife for the lonely man. But just now he was more interested in the dinner, especially in its conclusion, mince pie and cakes.
An hour later he was missed from the company, and being searched for was found sitting in a corner of another room, groaning softly, with his hands pressed against his side and an air of solemn anxiety on his face.
“Why, Robert, what in the world is the matter?” asked his mother in alarm.
“Mamma, dear,” said he, “I’m afraid I’m getting a wife.”
THE SANCTUM
He opened the door cautiously, and poking his head in, in a suggestive sort of way, as if there might be more to follow later on provided the way was clear, inquired, “Is this the editorial rinktum?” “The—what, my friend?” “Is this the rinktum, sinktum, or some such place, where the editors live?” “Yes, sir. This is the editorial room. Come right in.” “No, I guess I won’t come in. Just wanted to see what a rinktum was like, that’s all. Looks like our garret, only wuss. Good day!”
It is related that two Presbyterians, two Baptists, two Universalists and an active Jew recently met and discussed theology together without quarreling in Boston. The reason they did not quarrel in Boston was because they were in New York.
Going home from a party late one night a man ran against the same tree seventeen times. He then concluded that he was lost in an interminable forest, and began to call out, “A lost man! A lost man!” But nobody responding to his pitiful call, he made one more effort to escape, and had the luck to run into the next tree, which chanced to be surrounded by iron rods for its protection. He caught hold of the rods and felt them. He walked round and round the tree trying in vain to find some opening to pass through, and at last gave it up in despair, saying, “Just my luck. In the lock-up again.”