After dinner stories by famous men : . the man, smiling politely, Iseldom eat meat. You have ordered eggs, she said tartly, andan egg is practically the same as meat. It even-tually becomes a chicken. The kind of eggs I eat never become chickens,remarked the stranger quietly. * Impossible, she exclaimed. What kind ofeggs do you eat ? Boiled eggs, replied the stranger. TOO many of us, says August Belmont, arelike the trustee who expected his great-uncle toleave him his fortune of five thousand dollars. Thegreat-uncle died, and in a few days the trustee ap-peared in his old haunts, dressed in de
After dinner stories by famous men : . the man, smiling politely, Iseldom eat meat. You have ordered eggs, she said tartly, andan egg is practically the same as meat. It even-tually becomes a chicken. The kind of eggs I eat never become chickens,remarked the stranger quietly. * Impossible, she exclaimed. What kind ofeggs do you eat ? Boiled eggs, replied the stranger. TOO many of us, says August Belmont, arelike the trustee who expected his great-uncle toleave him his fortune of five thousand dollars. Thegreat-uncle died, and in a few days the trustee ap-peared in his old haunts, dressed in deep mourning,with a huge and perfect diamond in his black silktie. Ah, said a friend, your uncle is dead. Sin-cere sympathy. Left you that legacy, I suppose?But where did you get that beautiful stone? * The trustee smiled grimly. My great-uncle,he explained, did not include me among the bene-ficiaries of his will. He left, in fact, all his moneyfor a stone whicli should commemorate his is the stone. 42 After Dinner Stories. J. A. GILMORE, president of the new FederalBaseball League which is so gallantly bucking itsway into the lucrative field of organised baseball,tells this one: The morning after the wreck of one of thefastest trains in the country, an old farmer andmyself were standing on the bank of the river intowhich the train had plunged. Naturally our conversation reverted to thewreck and the fortunate escape of all the passen-gers. It was the costliest train in the world/ I saidreflectively. By Famous INIen 43 Yes/ grunted the farmer, intentlj^ gazing intothe stream. And also the best-equipped, I continued, ab-sorbed in the estimation of the loss involved. Theres no doubt about it, assented the oldfellow, Ive fished more than a dozen bottles the water already. JOHN BARRETT, Director of the Bureau ofSouth American Republics, tells his story aproposof the dilemmas of man} of the public office-seekersof to-day. It happened in the time when herds of buffal
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectamericanwitandhumor
