MCPL001488

Description:	1 THE IGOTHICJ ley, waiter, yelled the indignant diner, theres a button in thissoup.A button, sir? replied the waiter. Oh, yes, of course, sir, thatsoup was made from dressed beef.Year 1620—Indians sell Manhattan Island for a case of whisky.Year 1923—Citizens offer to swapback.There was recently haled intocourt a small Irishman to whom itwas a new experience.Prisoner at the bar, called outthe clerk, do you wish to challengeany one of the jury?Well, returned the Irishman,Oim not exactly in training, butOi think Oi could go a round or twowith that fat guv in the corner.It was midnight on a Pullman car.The monotonous hum of the wheelswas broken by the wailing of a smallgirl. Mamma, are you there?Papa, are you there? Mamma andPapa assured their wakeful offspringthat they were there. Again andagain the childs query was repeated and each time affectionately answered by the fond parents.Presently a deep and very roughvoice rumbled forth from the curtain on the opposite side of the car:Yes, little one, were all here, sokeep still and go to sleep.There was a silence for a wholeminute, when the little girls voicewas.again heard, this time in lowered and awed tones.Mamma, was that God?Thank goodness, thats over,said an Irishman, as he came out ofthe ether.Dont be too sure, warned theman on the next cot. They had tocut me open again because they hadleft a sponge in me.Same here, exclaimed the manon the other side, they left a pairof scissors in me and had to do itall over again.Just then the surgeon stuck hishead in and said, Anvone seen myhat?Roger—Timothy, yez is drunk.Timothy—Roger, Oim not—an ifOi was sober-r yez would not dareto say so.Roger—An, Timothy, if yez wassober-r yezd have sense enough toknow you was drunk.NOTICE—All teachers who havenot given citizenship slips will holdtheir annual convention in a telephone booth.A theological student named FiddleRefused to accept his degree.For he said its enough to be FiddleWithout being Fiddle D. D.The End of a Perfect EveningShe praised my friends, shepraised my dancing, she evenpraised the old car, which she saidmust have been quite a boat in itstime. What a wonderful dance ithad been and how well the boystreated a girl! Not at all like whereshe used to live.She appealed to me in her manner, her appreciation of what wasdone for her, and her refinement.She was one of the few girls, I reflected, who realized what a fellowreally did for them. Most girls justtook things as a matter of course.Her family was so cultured—socorrect! Her mother was courtesvand serene good-nature itself. Andlittle brother had not given a bit ofPage eighty-two
Source:	http://cdm17129.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/hs-bloom/id/2454
Collection:	Bloomington High School

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