Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 104, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 May 1910 — GOOD SHORT STORIES [ARTICLE]

GOOD SHORT STORIES

In the mayor’s early days,on the bench a prisoner’s counsel said, In the course of his speech: “Medical witnesses will testify that my unfortunate client ,1s suffering from kleptomania, and, your honor, you know what that is?” «Ye S> ” said Judge Gaynor, “I do. It is a disease the people pay me to cure.” . A sturdy Scotchman had been having a dispute with his wife, which resulted in his taking refuge under the bed. As she stood on guard with a good-sized stick in her hand, he called lustily from his retreat: “Ye can lamb me and ye can bate me, but ye canna break my manly spirit. I’ll nae come oot.” A small Norwegian lad presented himself before a certain school teach.er, who asked him his name. “Pete Peterson,” he replied. “And how old are you, Peter?” aßked the teacher. “Ay not know how old Ay bane,” said the lad. “Well, when were you born?” continued the teacher. “Ay not born at all; Ay got stepmutter.” A Methodist bishop’s wife addressing a meeting of working women made home life seem all Very fine and ideal, but one housewife voiced the opinion of the rest, perhaps, when she said to her neighbors with a sniff: "She’s all right as far as she goes; but what I’d like to ask her is this—what does she do when her old bishop comes home on pay night with his envelope empty and a fightin’ jag on?” The Governor of a Western State was making inspection of certain State institutions when he made inquiry as to the progress of a chaplain by him appointed to an insane asylum. “How is he getting on?” asked the Governor, thinking to get an unprejudiced opinien from the official acting as his guide. “Fine!” exclaimed the man. “His preachin’ is very successful, Governor. The idiots enjoy it especially.” The attractive young lady who had written “Urgent” on her eard was shown into the consulting room of Sir Choppham Fyne, head of the famous surgical hospital in Flintshire. “And what is the matter with you?” said the great man. “I wish,” she answered, “to become a nurse in this Institution.” The surgeon tapped a thoughtful tooth with his lancet. “First, one question. Have you had any previous experience?” She dazzled him with a reassuring smile. “Experience!” she erted. “I should just think so. Two of my brothers play football, another has tried to cross the channel in an aeroplane of his own make, mother is a suffragette, and father keeps a motor car.” High and low he searched for the bag of confetti he had brought home on the previous evening for his son and heir, but his efforts were not rewarded with success. Where on earth had he put it? Wh* had become of it? With every minute he became more irate, till finally he rang for Bridget. “Bridget,” he exclaimed, testl*s? “did you see that bag of confetti I brought home last night for Freddie? ‘Surte, an’ Oi did, sorr!” brogued out Bridget. “But Oi didn’t know it was only for Mhaster Fred. There’s but half of it left now.” "Only half of It left?” he cried. “What on earth have you done with the rest?” "Cooked it, av coorse,” retorted Bridget; “an it’s for yer own breakfast, with cream, ye had it this marain’!”