as his back turned than he heard a howl from the
novice, and, on turning, he saw that Pat had already lost a finger.

"Now, how did that happen?" the foreman demanded.

"Sure," was the explanation, "I was jist doin' like this
when,--bejabers, there's another gone!"

IMPATIENCE

An acquaintance encountered in the village inquired of Farmer Jones
concerning his wife, who was seriously ill. That worthy scowled and
spat, and finally answered in a tone of fretful dejection:

"Seems like Elmiry's falin' drefful slow. Dinged if I don't wish as how
she'd git well, or somethin'."

IMPUDENCE

The ice on the river was in perfect condition. A small boy, with his
skates on his arm, knocked at the door of the Civil War veteran, who had
lost a leg at Antietam. When the door was opened by the old man, the boy
asked:

"Are you going out to-day, sir?"

"Well, no, I guess not, sonny," was the answer. "Why?"

"If you ain't," the boy suggested, "I thought I might like to borrow
your wooden leg to play hockey."

INDIRECTION

The bashful suitor finally nerved himself to the supreme effort:

"Er--Jenny, do you--think--er--your mother might--er--seriously
consider--er--becoming my--er-mother-in-law?"

INHERITANCE

A lawyer made his way to the edge of the excavation where a gang was
working, and called the name of Timothy O'Toole.

"Who's wantin' me?" inquired a heavy voice.

"Mr. O'Toole," the lawyer asked, "did you come from Castlebar, County
Mayo?"

"I did that."

"And your mother was named Bridget and your father Michael?"

"They was."

"It is my duty, then," said the lawyer, "to inform you, Mr. O'Toole,
that your Aunt Mary has died in Iowa, leaving you an estate of sixty
thousand dollars."

There was a short silence below, and then a lively commotion.

"Are you coming, Mr. O'Toole?" the lawyer called down.

"In wan minute," was bellowed in answer. "I've just stopped to lick the
foreman."

It required just six months of extremely riotous living for O'Toole to
expend all of the sixty thousand dollars. His chief endeavor was to
satisfy a huge inherited thirst.

Then he went back to his job. And there, presently, the lawyer sought
him out again.

"It's your Uncle Patrick, this time, Mr. O'Toole," the lawyer explained.
"He has died in Texas, and left you forty thousand dollars."

O'Toole leaned heavily on his pick, and shook his head in great
weariness.

"I don't think I can take it," he declared.