Promptly at the end of the week Lillie returned, radiant. "Oh, Miss Annie!" she exclaimed, "Ah was the mos' lovely bride! Ma dress was pcrfec', ma veil mos' lovely, the cake mos' good! An' oh, the dancin' an' the eatin'!"
"Well, Lillie, this sounds delightful," said her mistress, "but you have left out the point of your story—I hope you have a good husband."
Lillie's tone changed to indignation: "Now, Miss Annie, what yo' think? Tha' darn nigger nebber turn up!"
There is living in Illinois a solemn man who is often funny without meaning to be. At the time of his wedding, he lived in a town some distance from the home of the bride. The wedding was to be at her house. On the eventful day the solemn man started for the station, but on the way met the village grocer, who talked so entertainingly that the bridegroom missed his train.
Naturally he was in a "state." Something must be done, and done quickly. So he sent the following telegram:
Don't marry till I come.—HENRY.
—Howard, Morse.
In all the wedding cake, hope is the sweetest of the plums.—Douglas Jerrold.