The waiter was desolate. “Very sorry, sir,” he said, “but that always was a peculiar bird. It even objected to being killed, although we always do everything with the greatest of kindness. But this bird, sir, actually flew away and we had to shoot it, sir—yes, shoot it—it flew onto the top of the house and—”
“Say no more,” said the old gentleman. “I see it all now. You shot at it and brought down the weathervane by mistake.”
Truer Words …
“Papa, is Mr. Robertson a politician?”
“No, son, he’s a reformer. He’ll be a politician later.”
Somethin’ Fishy
“This fishin’ fever seems to be contagious,” said the stranger, noting the long row of anglers perched upon the
creek bank.
“Yes, it’s contagious, all right,” said the man who had been fishing for 4 hours without a nibble, “but not catchin’.”
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