A Great Light

The skipper was examining an ambitious gob who wanted to be a gunner's

mate.



"How much does a six-pound shell weigh?" he asked.



"I don't know," the gob confessed.



"Well, what time does the twelve o'clock train leave?"



"Twelve o'clock."



"All right, then, how much does a six-pound shell weigh?"



"Ah," said the youthful mariner a great light dawning on him. "Twelve

pounds."



* * *



The two flappers at the Strand seemed barely in their 'teens, yet their

conversation stamped them as seasoned film fans. They were discussing

titles of pictures in general, and the tiny blonde expressed regret that

the recent German importations had had their titles changed for American

consumption. "If they had only called that picture 'Du Barry' instead of

'Passion,' think what a hit it would have made!"



Her bobbed-hair companion tossed her head and scoffed: "Don't you

believe it. There's millions of folks never heard of Du Barry, but every

one knows about passion."



* * *



"We will take as our text this morning," announced the absent-minded

clergyman, consulting his memorandum, "the sixth and seventh verses of

the thirty-first chapter of Proverbs." Never suspecting that his

vivacious son and heir had found the memorandum in his study on the

previous night, and, knowing that his papa had composed a sermon

celebrating the increased severity of dry law enforcement, had

diabolically changed the chapter and verse numerals to indicate a very

different text, the absent-minded clergyman turned to the place and read

aloud these words of Solomon: "Give strong drink unto him that is ready

to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. Let him drink

and forget his past poverty, and remember his misery no more."



* * *



"You don't mean to say it cost you $7000 to have your family tree looked

up?"



"No; $2000 to have it looked up and $5000 to have it hushed up."



* * *



_The Aristocrat_ (_returning to school_): My ancestors came over with

William the Conqueror.



_The New Girl:_ That's nothing! _My_ father came over in the same boat

with Mary Pickford!



* * *



It was Judgment Day, and throngs of people were crowding around the

Pearly Gates trying to convince St. Peter that they were entitled to

enter Heaven. To the first applicant St. Peter said, "What kind of a car

do you own?"



"A Packard," was the reply.



"All right," said St. Peter, "you go over there with the Presbyterians."



The next in line testified that he owned a Buick, and was told to stand

over with the Congregationalists. Behind him was the owner of a Dodge,

who was ordered to stand with the Baptists. Finally a meek little

individual came along.



"What kind of a car do you own?" was the question.



"A Ford," was the answer.



"You just think you own a car. You go over there with the Christian

Scientists."



* * *



_The Housewife:_ My goodness! I don't believe you've washed yourself for

a year.



_The Hobo:_ Just about that. You see, I only washes before I eats.



* * *



_The Professor:_ A diamond is the hardest known substance, inasmuch as

it will cut glass.



_The Cynic:_ Glass! My dear sir, a diamond will even make an impression

on a woman's heart.



* * *



_Boss:_ What do you mean by such language? Are you the manager here or

am I?



_Jones:_ I know I'm not the manager.



_The Boss:_ Very well, then, if you're not the manager, why do you talk

like a blamed idiot?



* * *



"Pa, what's an actor?"



"An actor, my boy, is a person who can walk to the side of a stage, peer

into the wings at a group of other actors waiting for their cues, a

number of bored stage hands, and a lot of theatrical odds and ends, and

exclaim, 'What a lovely view there is from this window!"'



* * *



"Is she making a rich marriage?"



"I should hope to tell you; he is a butcher who has been arrested three

times for profiteering."



* * *