Jokes We Have Met
Reading edition
“Capsules of Cheer”
KNEW MORE THAN THE CAPTAIN.
Capt. Robert C. Warr, about to retire from sea life after 49 years of it, said on the Campania:
“Yes, it is true that sea captains are sometimes annoyed by passengers who think they know more about navigation than the navigator himself.
“I know a captain to whom a passenger once said:
“‘What town is this we are approaching cap?’
“‘Derwent, sir.’
“‘No, cap, you are mistaken. Look at this map here. According to this map it’s Fordham-on-Tyne.’
“The captain said nothing, and a moment later the passenger asked:
“‘What channel is that, captain?’
“‘Egg Channel, sir.’
“‘Why, man, you’re wrong again! The map gives it as Mellins channel.’
“Three or four times this sort of thing went on. Then the passenger, pointing to a gull, said:
“‘What kind of a gull is that, cap?’
“‘Look at your map and find out,’ the captain gruffly answered.”—Washington Star.
CLOTHES AND THE MAN.
It is doubtful if “Uncle Joe” Cannon ever owned a silk hat. Nobody around Washington remembers seeing him wear one. Next to his cigar, nothing is quite so familiar to his friend as the type of black soft hat which he has made famous. It recalls an amusing incident that occurred in the old Arlington hotel a few years ago.
Mr. Cannon strolled into the place one evening with his secretary, L. White Busbey. Now it happened that Busbey was always a good deal heavier on dress than his chief. This particular night he was immaculate.
A man in the lobby was showing a visitor the sights.
“There’s ‘Uncle Joe’ Cannon,” he said, nudging the stranger.
“You don’t tell me,” exclaimed the visitor, looking at Busbey. “Who is that old slouch with him.”—Kansas City Star.
SUFFICIENT EVIDENCE.
“You drank too much punch at that reception yesterday.”
“Who saw me drink too much?”
“It wasn’t necessary to total up. When I came in you were holding an animated conversation with the piano lamp.”—Washington Herald.
FOREHANDED.
A German shoemaker left the gas turned on in his shop one night, and on arriving in the morning struck a match to light it. There was a terrific explosion and the shoemaker was blown out through the door almost to the middle of the street.
A passerby rushed to his assistance and after helping him to rise inquired if he was injured.
The little German gazed at his place of business, which was now burning quite briskly, and said.
“No, I ain’t hurt. But I got out shust in time, eh.”—What to Eat.
GRANDFATHER’S CRITICISM.
The christening party consisted of the proud father, the baby—a girl—the grandfather and the rest of the folks. The grandfather stood nearest the priest during the ceremony.
“What’s the child’s name?” asked the priest of the grandfather at the appropriate moment.
“I dunno,” the grandfather replied. And he turned to the father and whispered hoarsely: “What’s its name?”
“Hazel,” replied the father.
“What?” asked the grandfather.
“Hazel,” repeated the father.
The grandfather threw up his hands in disgust.
“What d’ye think av that?” he asked the priest. “With the calendar av the saints full av gur-rl names—an’ him namin’ his after a nut!”—Saturday Evening Post.