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One morning as Mark Twain returned from a neighborhood morning call,
sans necktie, his wife met him at the door with the exclamation: "There,
Sam, you have been over to the Stowes's again without a necktie! It's
really disgraceful the way you neglect your dress!"
Her husband said nothing, but went up to his room.
A few minutes later his neighbor--Mrs. S.--was summoned to the door by a
messenger, who presented her with a small box neatly done up. She opened
it and found a black silk necktie, accompanied by the following note:
"Here is a necktie. Take it out and look at it. I think I stayed half an
hour this morning. At the end of that time will you kindly return it, as
it is the only one I have?--Mark Twain."
A man whose trousers bagged badly at the knees was standing on a corner
waiting for a car. A passing Irishman stopped and watched him with great
interest for two or three minutes; at last he said:
"Well, why don't ye jump?"
"The evening wore on," continued the man who was telling the story.
"Excuse me," interrupted the would-be-wit; "but can you tell us what the
evening wore on that occasion?"
"I don't know that it is important," replied the story-teller. "But if
you must know, I believe it was the close of a summer day."
"See that measuring worm crawling up my skirt!" cried Mrs. Bjenks.
"That's a sign I'm going to have a new dress."
"Well, let him make it for you," growled Mr. Bjenks. "And while he's
about it, have him send a hookworm to do you up the back. I'm tired of
Dwellers in huts and in marble halls--
From Shepherdess up to Queen--
Cared little for bonnets, and less for shawls,
And nothing for crinoline.
But now simplicity's _not_ the rage,
And it's funny to think how cold
The dress they wore in the Golden Age
Would seem in the Age of Gold.
--_Henry S. Leigh_.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
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