He was a very decided English type, and as he stopped an Irishman and asked for a light he volunteered to say:
“Excuse me, my man, for stopping you as an entire stranger. But at home I’m a person of some importance. I’m Sir James B——, Knight of the Garter, Knight of the Double Eagle, Knight of the Golden Fleece, Knight of the Iron Cross. And your name is—what, my man?”
“My name,” was the ready reply, “is Michael Murphy. Night before last, last night, to-night an’ every night, Michael Murphy.”
THACKERAY AND THE OYSTER
When Thackeray, the great English novelist, visited this country, his literary friends in Boston gave a banquet in his honor. The committee of arrangements, learning that Mr. Thackeray had made some comments on the general tendency of Americans to magnify things, thought they would give their distinguished guest a demonstration of the greatness of the American oyster, at least, the more so as the oyster does not attain a great size in the British Isles. They accordingly ransacked the market for the very largest bivalves that could be found, and a half dozen of these were placed at Thackeray’s plate. The gentleman next to him apologized for the small size of the oysters, but Thackeray looked at them in amazement, and asked, “What am I to do with them?” “Swallow them, of course,” was the answer. “Well,” said he, taking a huge one on his fork, “here goes.” He gave a gulp and down it went. “How do you feel on it?” asked his friend. “Feel?” said he—“I feel as if I had swallowed a baby!”
A FAST TRAIN
Three men were talking in rather a large way of the excellent train-service each had in his special locality. One was from the West, one from New England and one from New York. The former two men had told their tales, and it was New York’s turn.
“Now in New York,” said he, “we not only run trains fast, but we start them fast, too, very fast. I recall the case of a friend of mine whose wife went to the station at Jersey City to see him off for the West. As the train was about to start, my friend said his final good-bye to his wife and leaned down from the car platform to kiss her. The train started, and started with such a rush that, would you believe it, my friend found himself kissing a strange woman on the platform at Trenton!”
At a dinner one day some gentlemen were discussing the merits of different species of game. One preferred canvasback duck, another woodcock, another quail. The dinner and the discussion ended, one of the men said to the waiter, who was a good listener, “Well, Frank, what kind of game do you like best?”
“Well, gemmen, to tell you de trufe,” said he, “‘mos any kind o’ game ’ll suit me, but what I likes best is an American Eagle served on a silvah dollah!”