MISTAKEN IDENTITY

There was a young fellow named Paul,

Who went to a fancy dress ball;

They say, just for fun

He dressed up like a bun,

And was "et" by a dog in the hall.





A Scottish woman, who was spending her holidays in London, entered a

bric-a-brac shop, in search of something odd to take home to Scotland

with her. After she had inspected several articles, but had found none
br /> to suit her, she noticed a quaint figure, the head and shoulders of

which appeared above the counter.



"What is that Japanese idol over there worth?" she inquired of the

salesman.



The salesman's reply was given in a subdued tone:



"About half a million, madam. That's the proprietor!"





The late James McNeil Whistler was standing bareheaded in a hat shop,

the clerk having taken his hat to another part of the shop for

comparison. A man rushed in with his hat in his hand, and, supposing

Whistler to be a clerk angrily confronted him.



"See here," he said, "this hat doesn't fit."



Whistler eyed the stranger critically from head to foot, and then

drawled out:



"Well, neither does your coat. What's more, if you'll pardon my saying

so, I'll be hanged if I care much for the color of your trousers."





The steamer was on the point of leaving, and the passengers lounged on

the deck and waited for the start. At length one of them espied a

cyclist in the far distance, and it soon became evident that he was

doing his level best to catch the boat.



Already the sailors' hands were on the gangways, and the cyclist's

chance looked small indeed. Then a sportive passenger wagered a

sovereign to a shilling that he would miss it. The offer was taken, and

at once the deck became a scene of wild excitement.



"He'll miss it."



"No; he'll just do it."



"Come on!"



"He won't do it."



"Yes, he will. He's done it. Hurrah!"



In the very nick of time the cyclist arrived, sprang off his machine,

and ran up the one gangway left.



"Cast off!" he cried.



It was the captain.





Much to the curious little girl's disgust, her elder sister and her girl

friends had quickly closed the door of the back parlor, before she could

wedge her small self in among them.



She waited uneasily for a little while, then she knocked. No response.

She knocked again. Still no attention. Her curiosity could be controlled

no longer. "Dodo!" she called in staccato tones as she knocked once

again. "'Tain't me! It's Mamma!"