Two of a Kind.
A bright little girl was taken by her father out into the country to visit an uncle whom she called Walsh. As the two drove along the country road, the little one spied a scarecrow in a field, and exclaimed: "Oh, papa, there's Uncle Walsh." Papa laughed hugely at the joke, but told her that she was mistaken; that what she saw was only a scarecrow. A little further along and Uncle Walsh's farm was reached, and way out in the field was Uncle Walsh at work. The little girl's eyes were the first to catch sight of him, but she wasn't to be fooled so easily this time. "Oh, papa," she cried, "look at that scarecrow!" Papa did look, and has not got through laughing yet.
—Buffalo Express.
A Change of Manœuver.
Guide to battlefields (sure of his party, he thinks)—Yes, sah, hit were jest hyer that the rebels gin to run, an'——
Tourist (bantering him)—Come, now! run? I was a reb myself and don't believe they ran.