We were touring in our auto from New Hampshire out to Buffalo. For several days everything had gone well. And then, within ninety miles of Buffalo, everything went wrong at once. I had had two blow-outs the previous day, and had bought two casings. Then, just as we were coming into Canandaigua my whole transmission went. This was ten or twelve years ago, and the nearest thing Canandaigua had to a garage was a tin shop. I got the car pulled in under a wagon shed and put in eighteen hours building a new transmission out of an old copper pump and a rainspout.

Buying the two casings had "broke" me, and now I had a two-days' hotel bill for four people, and nothing to pay it with. Fine! But with my most winning way I went up to the desk and said to the old landlord,

"Mr. Landlord, I am in rather an embarrassing fix. I owe you a bill and I have no money."

The landlord was a quaint, silent old fellow, with thick glasses and a very disconcerting stare. He now used this stare hard and said nothing. So I hastened to add—

"Of course I have got money, but I haven't got it with me; and I shall have to give you a check."

He just gave a little sniff and turned his head and glanced up at a framed card above the desk which read—

"But," I hastened to add, "I'll tell you what I would like to have you do. You telegraph, at my expense of course, to Mr. Murphy, of the Genesee Hotel, or Mr. Shea, at Shea's Theater, and I think they will assure you that Will Cressy's check is good."

He sniffed again and looked at me through those big glasses, and I began to get rattled in earnest. There must be some way; I must have something that will convince this man I am not a crook. I have it! My Identification Card from my insurance company. Hastily getting out my pocketbook I showed him this card.

"I can show you all right that I am Will Cressy. See? Here is my picture; and how heavy I am; and how tall; and the color of my eyes; and hair; and my signature."

Anxiously I looked up at him again. And I hadn't touched him. I began to get desperate. Frantically I searched through my pocketbook for something that would show my identity. I dragged out my different Club Cards.

"See!" I said, "I belong to the Lambs' Club, in New York; and the Friars; and the Green Room Club; and the Touring Club of America; and the Vaudeville Comedy Club."

I stopped; almost tearfully I looked at him. I could do no more. He sniffed again, shifted his weight from one foot to the other and said,

"You're a hell of a feller when you're home, ain't ye?"

As I was going to the theater in Indianapolis I passed two ladies who were busily discussing a third."You know she can't hear very well," said one.

"No, I see she can't," said the other.

"Bobbie" Richardson was not feeling very well, and for the past four nights had been taking a couple of pills each night. The fifth night Mrs. Bobbie happened to glance over toward him just as he was about to take his two pills.

"Bobbie," she said with a gasp, "what are you doing?"

"I am taking a couple of my pills," replied Bobbie.

"My Goodness," said Mrs. Bobbie, "those are not pills; that is a bottle I gave Alice to keep her beads in."

Julius Tannen and his wife were—er—talking it over. That is, she was; Julius was playing he was the audience. Finally Julius got an opening and said,

"Say, what would you think if you and I ever thought the same about something?"

Quick as a flash Mrs. Julius answered,

"I should know I was wrong."