Whereat the old man smiled wisely and said:
“My son, yonder are a hundred chickens and here a fine team of horses. Do you place the feathered tribe on this wagon, hitch up the team, and start out. Wherever you find a man and his wife living together, make diligent investigation to find out who the commanding officer is, and where it is the woman give her a chicken. If you find a man running a house give him one of the horses.”
So the young man loaded up the fowls and started out upon his pilgrimage of self-education. And when he had but seven chickens left, he approached a habitation with his forlorn inquiry, to which the man replied:
“I’m the ace-high cockalorum of this outfit.”
And the wife, without fear or favor, corroborated the statement. Then the young man said:
“Take your choice of the horses. Either one you fancy is yours.” And after the man had walked around the team several times and looked in their mouths, he said, “Well, I’ll take the bay.”
Now, the wife didn’t like bay horses, and she called John aside, and after whispering in his ear she allowed him to return.
“I guess I’ll take the black horse,” he said.
“Not a bit of it,” said the pilgrim. “You’ll take a chicken.”
They were talking over the engagement of one of the daughters of the family when the negro servant came in. One of the girls asked: “Cindy, have you seen Edith’s fiancé?” “No’m, honey, hit ain’t been in de wash yit.”
In the late financial stringency a clerk in one of the New York banks was trying to explain to a stolid old Dutchman why the bank could not pay cash to depositors as formerly, and was insisting that he be satisfied with Clearing House checks. But the old man could not grasp the situation, and finally the president of the bank was called upon to enlighten the dissatisfied customer. After a detailed explanation of the financial situation the president concluded, “Now, my good man, you understand, don’t you?”
“Yes,” dubiously replied the Dutchman, “I tinks I understand. It’s just like this; ven my baby vakes up in der night und cries for milk, I give her a milk ticket.”
Levinsky, despairing of his life, made an appointment with a famous specialist. He was surprised to find fifteen or twenty people in the waiting-room.