"I'll give you ten cents," said father, "if you'll never say that word again."
A few days afterward she came to him and said: "Papa, I've got a word worth half a dollar."
Very frequently the winter highways of the Yukon valley are mere trails, traversed only by dog-sledges. One of the bishops in Alaska, who was very fond of that mode of travel, encountered a miner coming out with his dog-team, and stopped to ask him what kind of a road he had come over.
The miner responded with a stream of forcible and picturesque profanity, winding up with:
"And what kind o' trail did you have?"
"Same as yours," replied the bishop feelingly.—Elgin Burroughs.
A scrupulous priest of Kildare,
Used to pay a rude peasant to swear,