"Pa," said little Joe, "I bet I can do something you can't."

"Well, what is it?" demanded his pa.

"Grow," replied the youngster triumphantly.

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He was a New Yorker visiting in a South Carolina village and he

sauntered up to a native sitting in front of the general store, and

began a conversation.

"Have you heard about the new manner in which the planters are going to

pick their cotton this season?" he inquired.

"Don't believe I have," answered the other.

"Well, they have decided to import a lot of monkeys to do the picking,"

rejoined the New Yorker. "Monkeys learn readily. They are thorough

workers, and obviously they will save their employers a small fortune

otherwise expended in wages."

"Yes," ejaculated the native, "and about the time this monkey brigade is

beginning to work smoothly, a lot of you fool northerners will come

tearing down here and set 'em free."

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The late Dr. Henry Thayer, founder of Thayer's Laboratory in Cambridge,

was walking along a street one winter morning. The sidewalk was sheeted

with ice and the doctor was making his way carefully, as was also a

woman going in the opposite direction. In seeking to avoid each other,

both slipped and they came down in a heap. The polite doctor was

overwhelmed and his embarrassment paralyzed his speech, but the woman

was equal to the occasion.

"Doctor, if you will be kind enough to rise and pick out your legs, I

will take what remains," she said cheerfully.

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"Help! Help!" cried an Italian laborer near the mud flats of the Harlem

river.

"What's the matter there?" came a voice from the construction shanty.

"Queek! Bringa da shov'! Bringa da peek! Giovanni's stuck in da mud."

"How far in?"

"Up to hees knees."

"Oh, let him walk out."

"No, no! He no canna walk! He wronga end up!"

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BRICKLAYER (to mate, who had just had a hodful of bricks fall on his

feet)--"Dropt 'em on yer toe! That's nothin'. Why, I seen a bloke get

killed stone dead, an' 'e never made such a bloomin' fuss as you're

doin'."

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A preacher had ordered a load of hay from one of his parishioners. About

noon, the parishioner's little son came to the house crying lustily. On

being asked what the matter was, he said that the load of hay had tipped

over in the street. The preacher, a kindly man, assured the little

fellow that it was nothing serious, and asked him in to dinner.

"Pa wouldn't like it," said the boy.

But the preacher assured him that he would fix it all right with his

father, and urged him to take dinner before going for the hay. After

dinner the boy was asked if he were not glad that he had stayed.

"Pa won't like it," he persisted.

The preacher, unable to understand, asked the boy what made him think

his father would object.

"Why, you see, pa's under the hay," explained the boy.