“Hould on, Misther Layland,” said she, “if yer foine frind there won’t lave ye the loan av a dollar, begorra O’im the frind that will,” and as she lectured Judge Matthews for the “stingiest ould thing out o’ jail,” she unrolled the money from a dirty rag and gave it to the philanthropist.
Judge Matthews says he never tried to play just that kind of a joke on Horace Leland again.
A COSTLY DODGE
The town of M—— in Pennsylvania had just elected a new Justice of the Peace. He was, of course, a Pennsylvania German, and the first cause that came before him for adjudication was a peculiar one. A man had attempted to shoot another man in the street of the business part of the town, but the man that was shot at dodged, and the bullet smashed a plate-glass window in a store. The owner of the store sued the man with the gun for damages, but the Justice, after hearing the evidence, decided that the man that was shot at and dodged the bullet must pay, “because,” said he, “don’t you see, if that man hadn’t dodged, the window wouldn’t have been broken.”
COULDN’T HELP CRYING
Two Irishmen who had just landed were eating their dinner in a hotel, when Pat spied a bottle of horseradish. Not knowing what it was he took a mouthful, which brought tears to his eyes.
Mike, seeing Pat crying, exclaimed, “Phat be ye cryin’ fer?”
Pat, wishing to have Mike sample the hot stuff also, replied, “Oim cryin’ fer me poor ould mither who’s dead away over in ould Ireland.”
By and by Mike took some of the radish, and immediately tears filled his eyes. “An’ phat be you cryin’ fer, now?” queried Pat. “Ach,” says Mike, “I’m cryin’ because you didn’t die at the same time your ould mither did in ould Ireland.”