Best Short Stories

"Jennie," said her mistress, "your husband treats you outrageously. Why don't you leave him?"

"Well, I don' 'zactly wants to leave him."

"Hasn't he dragged you the length of the room by your hair?" demanded her mistress.

"Yas'm, he has done dat."

"Hasn't he choked you into insensibility?"

"Yas'm, he sho has choked me."

"And now doesn't he threaten to split your head with an ax?"

"Yas'm, he has done all dat," agreed Jennie, "but he ain' done nothin' yet so bad I couldn't live wid him."

AN EASY ADJUSTMENT

Andy Donaldson, a well-known character of Glasgow, lay on his deathbed.

"I canna' leave ye thus, Nancy," the old Scotsman wailed. "Ye're ower auld to work, an' ye couldna' live in the workhoose. Gin I dee, ye maun marry anither man, wha'll keep ye in comfort in yer auld age."

"Nay, nay, Andy," answered the good spouse; "I couldna' marry anither man, fer whit wull I daw wi' twa husbands in heaven?"

Andy pondered over this, but suddenly his face brightened.

"I ha'e it, Nancy!" he cried. "Ye ken auld John Clemmens? He's a kind man, but he's no' a member o' the kirk. He likes ye, Nancy, an' gin ye'll marry him, 'twill be a' the same in heaven. John's no' a Christian, and he's no' likely to get there."

APPRAISED

One morning, Mollie, the colored maid, appeared before her mistress, carrying, folded in a handkerchief, a five-dollar gold piece and all her earthly possessions in the way of jewelry.

This package she proffered her mistress, with the request that Miss Sallie take it for safe keeping.

"Why, Mollie!" exclaimed the mistress in surprise. "Are you going away?"

"Naw'm, I ain' goin' nowheres," Mollie declared. "But me an' Jim Harris we wuz married this mawnin'. Yas'm, Jim, he's a new nigger in town. You don' know nothin' 'bout him, Miss Sallie. I don' know nothin' 'bout him myself. He's er stranger to me."

Miss Sallie glanced severely at the little package of jewelry.

"But, Mollie," she demanded, "don't you trust him?"

"Yas'm," replied Mollie, unruffled. "Cose I trus' him, personally--but not wid ma valuables."

AN EASY MATTER

How to own your own home is a problem which confronts the great majority. That it is oftentimes easily solved, however, is revealed by the following simple experience as related by H.M. Perley in Life:

How did we do it? Simply by going without everything we needed. When I was first married my salary was thirty dollars a month.

My mother-in-law, who lived with us, decided to save enough out of my salary to build us a home.

When the cellar was finished, I became ill and lost my position, and had to mortgage the cellar to make my first payment.

Although we went without food for thirty days the first year, we never missed a monthly payment.

The taxes, interest on mortgage, and monthly payment on house were now three times the amount of my earnings.

However, by dispensing with the service of a doctor, we lost our father and mother-in-law, which so reduced our expenses that we were able to pay for the parlor floor and windows.

In ten years seven of our nine children died, possibly owing to our diet of excelsior and prunes.

I only mention these little things to show how we were helped in saving for a home.

I wore the same overcoat for fifteen years, and was then able to build the front porch, which you see at the right of the front door.

Now, at the age of eighty-seven, my wife and I feel sure we can own our comfortable little home in about ten years and live a few weeks to enjoy it.

JEEMS HENRY WAS CONJURED.

"Mars John," excitedly exclaimed Aunt Tildy, as she pantingly rushed into a fire-engine house, "please, suh, phonograph to de car-cleaners' semporium an' notify Dan'l to emergrate home diurgently, kaze Jeems Henry sho' done bin conjured! Doctor Cutter done already distracted two blood-vultures from his 'pendercitis, an' I lef him now prezaminatin' de chile's ante-bellum fur de germans ob de neuroplumonia, which ef he's disinfected wid, dey gotter 'noculate him wid the ice-coldlated quarantimes--but I b'lieves it's conjuration!"

KEEPING IT IN THE FAMILY

A lady had the misfortune to lose her season ticket for the railway. On the same evening she had a call from two boys, the elder of whom at once handed her the lost ticket. The lady, delighted at the prompt return of her property, offered the boy a shilling for his trouble. The lad refused to accept it, telling the lady he was a Boy Scout, and that no member of the Boy Scouts is allowed to accept any return for a service rendered.

Just as the coin was about to be placed back in the purse of the lady, the boy, looking up into her face, suddenly blurted out:

"But my wee brither's no' a Scout."

NOT SO DIFFICULT

Sometimes a situation which to the kind of a mind which requires certainty seems hopeless can be adjusted in the most common-place manner:

Congressman Charles R. Davis of Minnesota relates that one afternoon a train on a Western railroad stopped at a small station, when one of the passengers, in looking over the place, found his gaze fixed upon an interesting sign. Hurrying to the side of the conductor, he eagerly inquired: "Do you think that I will have time to get a soda before the train starts?"

"Oh, yes," answered the conductor.

"But suppose," suggested the thirsty passenger, "that the train should go on without me?"

"We can easily fix that," promptly replied the conductor. "I will go along and have one with you."

DESERVED THE LEGACY

A Turkish story runs that, dying, a pious man bequeathed a fortune to his son, charging him to give £100 to the meanest man he could find.

A certain cadi filled the bill. Accordingly the dutiful son offered him £100.

"But I can't take your £100," said the cadi. "I never knew your father. There was no reason why he should leave me the money."

"It's yours, all right," persisted the mourning youth.

"I might take it in a fictitious transaction," said the cadi, relenting. "Suppose--I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll sell you all that snow in the courtyard for £100."

The young man agreed, willing to be quit of his trust on any terms. Next day he was arrested, taken before the cadi, and ordered to remove his snow at once. As this was a command the young man was utterly unable to execute, he was fined £20 by the cadi for contumacy.

"At least," the young man said ruefully as he left the court, "father's £100 went to the right man."

IMPROVEMENT

If you are going to be too fussy about your own particular brand of beauty then you must expect to reap the consequences.

An actor visited a beauty doctor to see if he could have something done for his nose. The beauty doctor studied the organ, and suggested a complicated straightening and remoulding process--cost, twenty guineas.

"I may go you," said the actor thoughtfully. He stroked his nose before the mirror, regarding it from all sides. "Yes, I think I'll go you. But, look here, do you promise to give my nose--er--ideal beauty?"

The surgeon grew meditative.

"As to ideal beauty, I can't say," he replied at last. "Why, my friend I couldn't help improving it a lot if I hit it with a hammer."

WHY SHOULD HE KNOW?

We cannot all of us be truly literary. Most of us lead busy lives and, after all, is it of any real importance to be familiar with the world's greatest writers? No doubt this may all depend upon our occupation, as the following conversation reveals.

The slight man with the bulging brow leaned forward and addressed the complacent looking individual with a look of almost human intelligence. It was a monotonous railway journey.

"Wonderful transportation facilities to-day, sir," he ventured. "As we have been bowling along, my mind has unconsciously been dwelling on Jane Austen. Think of it, sir, only one hundred years ago and no railroads. Have we really lost or gained? Marvelous girl, that, sir. Masterpiece of literature when she was twenty-one, and no background but an untidy English village. You've heard of Jane Austen, I presume?"

"Can't say I have."

The slight man smiled sympathetically.

"I get a great deal of pleasure from books," he went on. "Bachelor. Marvelous solace. May know Wordsworth's famous lines, eh? 'Books we know are a substantial world,' etc. Perhaps you have read something of Thomas Love Peacock?"

"Never heard of him."

"Ah! Missed a great deal. Wonderful satirist, that. But still, I must admit that neither he nor Miss Austen are common. Now there's Mark Twain--for general reading, rain or shine, can't be beaten. American to the core, sir. Smacks of the soil. Perhaps he missed any warm love interest--but a delightful humorist, sir. You read him regularly, I presume?"

"Can't say I do."

"Of course, sir, books are not all. I agree with our old friend, Montaigne, about that. By the way, which do you prefer, Dickens or Thackeray?"

"Can't say, sir. They're strangers to me."

"Perhaps you've heard of a man named Walter Scott. As his name implies, he was born in Scotland. He wrote books, you know--novels, stories. Rather good, eh? Human interest--wholesome reading--and all that sort of thing."

"Don't recall him."

The slight man rose up in his seat. He bore down hard upon the stranger.

"Possibly," he suggested, "in the course of your deep and intimate intercourse with men and affairs, you may recall the name of an individual named Shakespeare."

"Yes, I think I remember."

"How about Macaulay, the greatest essayist in England, and Homer, the prince of ancient poets, with seven birthplaces? Then there's Emerson and Longfellow and Goethe and--"

He paused and grabbed the other man by the collar.

"My friend," he said, "you don't seem interested in the world's greatest authors. May I inquire what your occupation in life is?"

The other man nodded gravely, even austerely.

"Certainly, sir," he replied. "I'm a holiday salesman in Buncum's Department Store Book Shop."

ONE ON HIM

The code of manners enjoyed by the Germans needs scarcely any further illumination, but the following incident may serve as further light upon this threadbare subject.

A physician boarded a crowded crosstown car. A woman was standing, and a big German seated, sprawling over twice the space necessary. Indignantly the doctor said to him:

"See here! Why don't you move a little so that this tired woman may have a seat?"

For a moment the German looked dazed. Then a broad smile spread over his countenance as he answered:

"Say, dot's a joke on you, all right! Dot's my vife!"

REVEALED

In view of the spirit of comradeship shown between officers and men, this story is at least open to question, but it may have happened in some former war.

The lieutenant was instructing the squad in visional training.

"Tell me, Number One," he said, "how many men are there in that trench-digging party over there?"

"Thirty men and one officer," was the prompt reply.

"Quite right," observed the lieutenant, after a pause. "But how do you know one is an officer at this distance?"

"'Cos he's the only one not working, sir."

DIAGNOSING HIMSELF

The officer of the day, during his tour of duty, paused to question a sentry who was a new recruit.

"If you should see an armed party approaching, what would you do?" asked the officer.

"Turn out the guard, sir."

"Very well. Suppose you saw a battleship coming across the parade-ground, what would you do?"

"Report to the hospital for examination, sir," was the prompt reply.

IN OUR MELTING POT

During a political campaign in New York a Tammany leader on the East Side, a self-made man and one not entirely completed yet in some respects, was addressing a mass meeting of Italian-born voters on behalf of the Democratic ticket.

"Gintlemen and fellow citizens," he began, "I deem it an honor to be permitted to address you upon the issues of the day. I have always had a deep admiration for your native land. I vinerate the mimory of that great, that noble Eyetalian who was the original and first discoverer of this here land of ours.

"Why, gintlemen, at me mother's knee I was taught to sing that inspirin' song: 'Columbus, the Jim of the Ocean'!"

Whereupon there was loud applause.

GIVE HIM TIME

Mr. Johnsing had an enthusiastic admirer in Little Eph Jones.

"Yes, suh," he concluded one of his eulogies, "Mistuh Johnsing is the biggest man what evuh was."

"Bigger than General Grant?" queried the white man to whom he was talking.

"Suttinly Mistuh Johnsing is a bigguh man than General Grant," affirmed Eph.

"Bigger than President Wilson?"

"Of co'se he's bigguh than President Wilson."

"Bigger than God?"

"Well--well--" stammered Eph. "You see, Mistuh Johnsing's young yet."

A BAY STATE SOLOMON

Unfortunately we've mislaid the judge's name, but his court room is in New Bedford, Mass. Before him appeared a defendant who, hoping for leniency, pleaded, "Judge, I'm down and out."

Whereupon said the wise judge: "You're down but you're not out. Six months."

IN MEMORIAM

Availing herself of her ecclesiastical privileges, the clergyman's wife asked questions which, coming from anybody else, would have been thought impertinent.

"I presume you carry a memento of some kind in that locket you wear?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am," said the parishioner. "It is a lock of my husband's hair."

"But your husband is still alive!" the lady exclaimed.

"Yes, ma'am, but his hair is gone."

A DISADVANTAGE

The Germans will be immensely hated after this war. They will be the pariahs of the future.

Already we see signs of German hatred everywhere. At a reception the other night in a neutral city, the guest of honor said to a man who had just been presented to her:

"You are a foreigner, are you not? Where do you come from?"

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