The doctor told him he needed carbohydrates, proteids, and above all, something nitrogenous. The doctor mentioned a long list of foods for him to eat. He staggered out and wabbled into a Penn avenue restaurant.
The doctor told him he needed carbohydrates, proteids, and above all, something nitrogenous. The doctor mentioned a long list of foods for him to eat. He staggered out and wabbled into a Penn avenue restaurant.
The late John Bigelow, the patriarch of diplomats and authors, and the no less distinguished physician and author, Dr. S. Weir Mitchell, were together, several years ago, at West Point. Dr. Bigelow was then ninety-two, and Dr. Mitchell eighty.
“Mother,” asked the little one, on the occasion of a number of guests being present at dinner, “will the dessert hurt me, or is there enough to go round?”
By Jones
The seven-year-old daughter of a prominent suburban resident is, the neighbors say, a precocious youngster; at all events, she knows the ways of the world.
Once, while Bishop Talbot, the giant “cowboy bishop,” was attending a meeting of church dignitaries in St. Paul, a tramp accosted a group of churchmen in the hotel porch and asked for aid.
In China when the subscriber rings up exchange the operator may be expected to ask:
“What number does the honorable son of the moon and stars desire?”
“Malachi,” said a prospective homesteader to a lawyer, “you know all about this law. Tell me what I am to do.”
As one of the White Star steamships came up New York harbor the other day, a grimy coal barge floated immediately in front of her. “Clear out of the way with that old mud scow!” shouted an officer on the bridge.
“See that man over there. He is a bombastic mutt, a windjammer nonentity, a false alarm, and an encumberer of the earth!”
An Irishman once lined up his family of seven giant-like sons and invited his caller to take a look at them.
“Ain’t they fine boys?” inquired the father.