Step Lively! A Carload of the Funniest Yarns that Ever Crossed the Footlights

"It's got so now," he began to say, "that the infernal beef trust – "

"You won't find any beef trust at this shop, I'm telling you right now – my terms are strictly cash," was what the cruel purveyor of loins and steaks tossed at him.

And there was my old friend, the grocery man, getting into hot water again when I entered.

He is used to it, being parboiled every day.

When I saw the same young matron who had ordered "condemned milk" and those other astonishing things the other day, I pricked up my ears, under the belief that something rich, rare and racy might happen.

It did.

"I've come to complain of that flour you sent me," she was saying, with fire in her eye.

"What was the matter with it?" asked the grocer, meekly.

"It was tough. I made a pie with it, and it was as much as my husband could do to cut it," was what the dear young thing said in all candor.

And I suppose that grocer promised to remedy matters by sending up some "tender" flour.

While I loitered in the grocer's who should come in but Dr. Instantaneous, as gay and chipper as though he had never killed a man in his thirty years of deadly practice. He's a crank on the liquor question, and to stave him off, I said:

"Terrible thing, that case of Sweitzer, the brewer."

"The brewer – yes, I've heard his name – what happened to him?" he asked, innocently.

"Dead."

"Why, it must have been sudden."

"Very."

"How did he die?"

"Too much absorbed in his business."

"What!"

"Fell into one of his beer vats and was drowned."

Then the medical man smiled gently, but I knew he would want to moralize on the story and I let fly again.

"Notice that tall gentleman over yonder?" I said, mysteriously.

"The one looking at those truffles?"

"Yes. What do you think of his looks?"

"A very homely individual."

"Wouldn't take him for a heart-smasher?"

"I guess not."

"Well, he's turned more girls' heads, I suppose, than any other man in New York."

"H'm! a matinee idol, I suppose," grunted Dr. Instantaneous.

"Wrong. He's the manufacturer of the celebrated Madame Justine's hair bleach."

"Well, doctor," I rattled on, "days are getting pretty short now. Why, d'ye know the ink doesn't seem to have time to dry on a thirty-day note before it's due. But tell me, doctor, have you seen Prof. Bigsby since he came back from Martinique?"

"Has he really returned, then?" he asked, in surprise.

"Yes, they thought he had the measles, and sent him home as an invalid."

"Did he have them?"

"No."

"Hope it wasn't smallpox, then?"

"Nothing so serious. You see, during his investigations with regard to the causes of the volcanic disturbances, the professor must have swallowed a great quantity of lava dust. That was quite natural, wasn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"Well, it stands to reason that an eruption followed."

Perhaps you know that I've taken something of a prominent part in the agitation for merry-go-rounds in the public parks, to better the condition of the poor.

Seen my name among those of the committee, haven't you? Well, a certain genius called Cropsey dropped in on me to ask if it wouldn't be the proper caper in connection with those merry-go-rounds to enlist the sympathy and co-operation of the Daughters of the Revolution.

There! That ought to be enough to make you weep, like you'd been peeling onions.

"Onions! Now there's something I'm particularly fond of," he remarked.

"Ditto," I said, "the only trouble about onions is that when you eat them you have to take so many people into your confidence about it."

Speaking about confidence, what do you think of the sublime assurance of the monkey that lost his hold on the branch of the tree, and fell into the crocodile's waiting jaws? Even then his wits did not desert him.

"I just dropped in for dinner," he said, with an engaging smile.

"It seems to me," remarked a business acquaintance, "that our employees get more assurance every day they live. Now, there's that young bookkeeper of mine. He asked me, early in the week, whether I could let him off to attend his great-aunt's funeral."

"And what did you tell him?" I asked the man of business.

"That it was impossible, as we were so overwhelmed with work. He seemed to take it so to heart that I felt a touch of pity for him, so I told him that if business dropped off some I wouldn't mind his going to a funeral, say on Saturday afternoon."

Had a great game of poker last night. Here's an inch of horse-sense you poker-players will appreciate:

All poker sharps with one accordAdmit this truth we trust:The man who always sweeps the boardIs bound to get the dust.

Zacharia, my barber, is quite a character.

I thought to joke him the last time he cut my hair.

"Look here," I remarked, "hair getting thin, eh?"

"Sure, it is."

"Seems to me you ought to charge me half price, since the quantity has fallen off so."

"It would 'pear so, sah, but on de udder hand I orter charge double price."

"How's that, Zacharia?"

"Jest see what trouble I has to find it."

Last summer I took Zacchy out in the country with me, as he wanted a change.

He did the chores around the place, you know, tended the horse, made the garden, cut the lawn.

It was quite a change for him.

And I guess he was awful glad to get back to town again.

Well, Zacchy has a pretty good disposition, easy-going, you know, like most darkies.

My wife noticed that right away.

It takes the women to see through things.

And she had the strongest way of remedying the trouble you ever heard of.

Would you believe it, one day she came to me all smiles, and she said:

"George, dear, I want you to be sure and give Zacharia a good scolding to-morrow morning."

I was surprised, and wondered what the fellow had been doing.

"Why not now?" I demanded, growing warm under the collar at the idea of the darky having been impudent.

"No, no, restrain your impetuosity. I said to-morrow morning.

"But what has he been doing?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing at all out of the way – he's such an easy-going chap, you know."

"Well," I said, "I don't understand. Zacchy's all right, and I quite fancy him. Now, why should I scold him in the morning?"

"You see, he has to beat the carpets to-morrow, and strikes ever so much harder when he's in a bad temper."

What do you think of that?

Who, but a woman could have conceived such a master stroke of genius?

I often feel compelled to take off my hat to Mrs. Niblo.

Why, we were discussing a particular lady friend who was noted for her eccentricities.

"She's such a stickler for doing everything appropriately," I chanced to remark.

"Well, I should say so," chimed in my better half, who had delighted to take note of these things; "why, she always does her marketing in a basket-phaeton."

I've had a little experience in building, and of course paid for it, as all men do.

They were putting an addition on my country house.

I call it by that name, for it sounds well.

I am generally a particular man, believing in the motto "A place for everything and everything in its place."

The boss carpenter annoyed me.

He seemed very careless – why, he would leave his tools just where he dropped them, and it took me half an hour every evening going around collecting the same.

Finally, I thought to reprove him gently.

"My friend, suppose some one should drop in here and get away with some of the valuable tools you let lie around. It would be a serious loss."

"Don't lose any sleep about it, my friend," he said, "all those things will be found in your bill."

Why, would you believe it, that same carpenter used to bring his dog around with him and charged me for his meals. That dog got so fat no sausage-maker could pass him by without a sigh.

I heard of a meditative kind of terrier that got grabbed up by a sausage-man the other day.

"Well," moaned the dog, as the net fell over him, "of all the unlucky dogs, I guess I'm the worst yet."

"No," chuckled the sausage-man, "you are not the wurst yet, but you pretty soon will be!"

Well, talking about sausages has made me hungry, so we'll call it off till we meet again.

No bouquets, please!