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New York City

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At a convention of Methodist Bishops held in Washington, the Bishop of
New York made a stirring address extolling the powers and possibilities
of his state. Bishop Hamilton, of California, like all good
Californians, is imbued with the conviction that it would be hard to
equal a place he knows of on the Pacific, and following the Bishop of
New York he gave a glowing picture of California, concluding:

"Not only is it the best place on earth to live in, but it has superior
advantages, too, as a place to die in; for there we have at our
threshold the beautiful Golden Gate, while in New York they only
have--well, you know which gate it is over at New York!" One night Dave
Warfield was playing at David Belasco's new theatre, supported by one of
Mr. Belasco's new companies. The performance ran with a smoothness of a
Standard Oil lawyer explaining rebates to a Federal court. A worthy
person of the farming classes, sitting in G 14, was plainly impressed.
In an interval between the acts he turned to the metropolitan who had
the seat next him.

"Where do all them troopers come from?" he inquired.

"I don't think I understand," said the city-dweller.

"I mean them actors up yonder on the stage," explained the man from
afar. "Was they brought on specially for this show, or do they live
here?"

"I believe most of them live here in town," said the New Yorker.

"Well, they do purty blamed well for home talent," said the stranger.


A traveler in Tennessee came across an aged negro seated in front of his
cabin door basking in the sunshine.

"He could have walked right on the stage for an Uncle Tom part without a
line of makeup," says the traveler. "He must have been eighty years of
age."

"Good morning, uncle," says the stranger.

"Mornin', sah! Mornin'," said the aged one. Then he added, "Be you the
gentleman over yonder from New York?"

Being told that such was the case the old darky said; "Do you mind
telling me something that has been botherin' my old haid? I have got a
grandson--he runs on the Pullman cyars--and he done tell me that up thar
in New York you-all burn up youah folks when they die. He is a poherful
liar, and I don't believe him."

"Yes," replied the other, "that is the truth in some cases. We call it
cremation."

"Well, you suttenly surprise me," said the negro and then he paused as
if in deep reflection. Finally he said: "You-all know I am a Baptist. I
believe in the resurrection and the life everlastin' and the coming of
the Angel Gabriel and the blowin' of that great horn, and Lawdy me, how
am they evah goin' to find them folks on that great mawnin'?"

It was too great a task for an offhand answer, and the suggestion was
made that the aged one consult his minister. Again the negro fell into a
brown study, and then he raised his head and his eyes twinkled merrily,
and he said in a soft voice:

"Meanin' no offense, sah, but from what Ah have heard about New York I
kinder calcerlate they is a lot of them New York people that doan'
wanter be found on that mornin'."





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