Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 140, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 June 1910 — GOOD SHORT STORIES [ARTICLE]

GOOD SHORT STORIES

A member.of the Nebraska legislature was making a speech on some momentous question and in concluding said: “In the words of Daniel Webster, who wrote the dictionary, 'Give me liberty or give me death.*" One of his colleagues pulled at his coat and whispered: “Daniel Webster did not write the dictionary; It was Noah.” “Noah nothing,” replied the speaker; "Noah built the ark.” It was while Charlemagne Tower was ambassador to Russia that a New York City newspaper “spread Itself” upon a fete held at St. Petersburg. A green copy-reader produced this result: “As pleasing to the eye as was all this decoration there was additional pleasure in the sight, as one stood at the head of the Prospekt Nevska, of Charlemagne Tower, brilliantly illuminated, looming grand and imposing against the winter sky.” A teacher in one of the lower grade schools was Instructing a class In the departments of the national government recently and came finally to th? customs department. "When an ocean liner reaches Philadelphia,” said the teacher, "a man all dressed up In uniform meets the passengers and takes all they have and inspects It. Now, can any one in the class tell me what that man Is called?” A ready hand in the last row flew up. "Well, Tommy?” “Please, ma’am, he’s called a pirate.” William had just returned from college, resplendent in peg-top trousers, silk hosiery, a fancy waistcoat, and a necktie that spoke for Itself. He entered the library where his father was reading. The old gentleman looked up and surveyed his son. The longer he looked the more disgusted he became. “Son,” he finally blurted out, “you look like a d— —- fool!” Later, the old major who lived next door came in and greeted the boy heartily. “William,” he said with undisguised admiration, “you look exactly like your father did twenty years ago when he came back from school!” "Yes,” replied William with a smile, "so father was just telling me.” The dark monarch from sunny Africa was being shown over an engineering place in Salford by the manager, who, in explaining the working of certain machinery, unfortunately got his coat tails caught in it, and in a moment was being whirled round at so many revolutions per minute. Luckily for the manager, his garments were unequal to the strain of more than a few revolutions, and he was hurled, disheveled and dazed, at the feet of the visitor. That exalted personage roared with laughter, and said something to his interpreter. “Sah,” said that functionary to the manager, “his majesty say he am berry pleased With de trick, an’ will you please do it again?” Charles Dickens used to relate an anecdote of the last moments oi Fauntleroy, the great banker, hanged for forgpry in 1824. His elegant dinners had always been followed by some remarkable and matchless ciiracao, the source of which he kept a deep secret. Three of his boon companions had an interview with him in the condemned cell the day before his execution. They were about to retire, when the most impressive of the three stepped back; and said: “Fauntleroy, you stand on the verge of the grave; remember the text, my dear man, that ‘we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can take nothing out.’ Have you any objection, therefore, to tell me now, as a friend, where you got that curacao?"