b-body has his little p-peculiarity. Stammering is
m-m-mine; what is y-yours?"

"Well, really, Mr. Brown, I am not aware that I have any."

"W-which hand d-do you stir y-your tea with?"

"The right hand, of course."

"W-well, that is y-your p-peculiarity; most p-people u-use a
t-teaspoon."

* * * * *

The second course of the table d'hote was being served.

"What is this leathery stuff?" demanded the corpulent diner.

"That, sir, is filet of sole," replied the waiter.

"Take it away," said the corpulent diner, "and see if you can't get me a
nice, tender piece of the upper, with the buttons removed."

* * * * *

"Gracious," exclaimed Mr. Swellman, "The baby has eaten a lot of that
dog biscuit."

"Never mind, dear," replied Mrs. Swellman. "It just serves Fido right,
for he's often stolen the baby's food--haven't you, Fido? 'Oo naughty
'ittle rogue, 'oo!"

* * * * *

Once upon a time there was a young man who felt sure that within his
bosom burned the incandescent light of dramatic fire. To assure the
world of this fact he secured a position as supernumerary in a
theatrical combination which was presenting a repertoire of classical
tragedies.

Of course, all great careers have an humble start; so had his. All that
was required of him was to come on R. U. E., when the lordly baron was
about to take his regal bride to his proud ancestral halls, and inform
him, and the audience:

"My lord, the carriage waits."

The leading lady, who played the fair young bride, was rather inclined
to embonpoint, as we say when we wish to insinuate as delicately as
possible that some one is fat.

The budding genius had rehearsed his lines--or line--until he felt that
he was letter perfect. He haunted the wings all evening until he heard
his cue. Then he strutted onto the scene, struck a tragic pose, and
announced excitedly:

"My Lord! She carries weights!"

* * * * *

Frank Stockton tells a fish story. A gentleman asked a question of a boy
who was fishing. The boy mumbled an indistinct response. "Why don't you
speak plainly?" said the gentleman. "What have you in your mouth?"

"Wums--wums for bait," answered the boy.

"That was the first instance I ever knew," remarked Mr. Stockton in
telling the story, "of anybody really speaking with baited breath."

* * * *