ARTEMUS WARD'S ADVICE.
A certain Southern railroad was in a wretched condition, and the trains were consequently run at a phenomenally low rate of speed. When the conductor was punching his ticket, the late Artemus Ward, who was one of the passengers, remarked:
"Does this railroad company allow passengers to give it advice, if they do so in a respectful manner?"
The conductor replied in gruff tones that he guessed so.
"Well," Artemus went on, "it occurred to me that it would be well to detach the cowcatcher from the front of the engine and hitch it to the rear of the train; for, you see, we are not liable to overtake a cow, but what's to prevent a cow from strolling into this car and biting a passenger?"—Boston Herald.
LOST.
Legends of the absent-minded savant are legion, but the following, told of a well-known Ph.D. of this city, perhaps touches the climax:
One of the charwomen in the temple of learning with which he is associated choked on a pin she had put in her mouth as she went about her work. Rushing up to Professor Blank's sanctum she burst in through the door without the formality of a knock.
"Professor, oh, professor!" she panted, "I've swallowed a pin."
"Never mind," returned the professor, feeling absently about the edges of his lapel without raising his eyes from the book before him, "here's another one you can have."—New York Times.