Tim Casey, a juror, rose suddenly from his seat and hastened to the door of the courtroom. He was prevented, however, from leaving the room, and was sternly questioned by the judge.

"Yes, your honor, I'll explain meself," said the juror. "When Mr. Finn finished his talking me mind was clear all through, but whin Mr. Evans begins his talkin' I becomes all confused an' says I to myself, Taith, I'd better lave at once, an' shtay away until he is done,' because, your honor, to tell the truth, I didn't like the way the argument was going."


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A sturdy Scot, 6 feet 5 inches in height, is a gamekeeper near
Strafford. One hot day last summer he was accompanying a bumptious
sportsman, of very small stature, when he was greatly troubled by gnats.
The other said to him:

"My good man, why is it that the gnats do not trouble me?"

"I daresay," replied the gamekeeper, with a comprehensive glance at the
other's small proportions, "it will be because they havna' seen ye yet!"

Two young Irishmen in a Canadian regiment were going into the trenches
for the first time, and their captain promised them five shillings each
for every German they killed.

Pat lay down to rest, while Mick performed the duty of watching. Pat
had not lain long when he was awakened by Mick shouting:

"They're comin'! They're comin'!"

"Who's comin'?" shouts Pat.

"The Germans," replies Mick.

"How many are there?"

"About fifty thousand."

"Begorra," shouts Pat, jumping up and grabbing his rifle, "our fortune's
made!"

Mr. Budger and his wife were continually at variance regarding their individual capabilities of making and keeping a good fire. He contended that she did not know how to make a fire, nor how to keep one after it was made. She, on the other hand, maintained that he never meddled with the fire that he didn't put it out--in short, that he was a perfect fire damper; and, as he was always anxious to stir up things in the varous fireplaces, she made a practice of hiding the poker just before it was time for him to come into the house. One night there was an alarm of fire in the village and Budger flew for his hat and coat.

"Where are you going, my dear?" asked his wife.

"Why, there's a fire, and I'm going to help put it out."

"Well, my love," responded Mrs. Budger, "I think the best thing you can do is to take the poker along with you."


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There is a story of Bransby Williams, famous impersonator of Dickens's characters, which will come home to many of us in these days of food shortage.

He had a hard time before he "arrived," and hunger was a familiar companion. One night he had to play in a sketch in which he was supposed to consume a steak pudding.

"Imagine my surprise," he says, "when a real, good, smoking hot steak and kidney pudding arrived on the scene. 'My eye!' I exclaimed to myself. I had to cut it and serve it, and in the ordinary course of events we should have got through this stage meal in about five or six minutes.

"But not to-night! I made up my mind that that pudding should not be wasted, but eaten, and I commenced in earnest. I made the best meal I had had for days, and improvised conversation till it was all polished off!"


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Soldiers have to do their own mending when it is done at all, and it appears--although few persons would have guessed it--that the thoughtful War Office supplies them with outfits for that purpose. Otherwise, this joke would be impossible.

Everything was ready for kit inspection; the recruits stood lined up ready for the officer, and the officer had his bad temper all complete. He marched up and down the line, grimly eyeing each man's bundle of needles and soft soap, and then he singled out Private MacTootle as the man who was to receive his attentions.

"Toothbrush?" he roared.

"Yes, sir."

"Razor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hold-all?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hm! You're all right, apparently," growled the officer. Then he barked:

"Housewife?"

"Oh, very well, thank you," said the recruit amiably. "How's yours?"


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The fine art of concealment is thus formulated by Carolyn Wells, writing
in _Life_:

Once upon a time there lived an elderly millionaire who had four
nephews. Desiring to make one of these his heir, he tested their
cleverness.

He gave to each a one-hundred-dollar bill, with the request that they
hide the bills for a year in the city of New York.

Any of them who should succeed in finding the hidden bill at the end of
the year should share in the inheritance.

The year being over, the four nephews brought their reports.

The first, deeply chagrined, told how he had put his bill in the
strongest and surest safety deposit vaults, but, alas, clever thieves
had broken in and stolen it.

The second had put his bill in charge of a tried and true friend. But
the friend had proved untrustworthy and had spent the money.

The third had hidden his bill in a crevice in the floor of his room, but
a mouse had nibbled it to bits to build her nest.

The fourth nephew calmly produced his hundred-dollar bill, as crisp and
fresh as when it had been given him.

"And where did you hide it?" asked his uncle.

"Too easy! I stuck it in a hotel Bible."