"Who's Wordsworth?" demanded the actor.

   "Why, that's his picture," was the answer, as the friend pointed. "That's Wordsworth, the poet."

   The actor regarded the photograph with a new interest.

   "Is that old file a poet?" he exclaimed in astonishment. "I got him for a study in wrinkles."

   "Yes, ma'am," the old salt confided to the inquisitive lady, "I fell over the side of the ship, and a shark he come along and grabbed me by the leg."

   "Merciful providence!" his hearer gasped. "And what did you do?"

   "Let 'im 'ave the leg, o' course, ma'am. I never argues with sharks."

   An American tourist and his wife, after their return from abroad, were telling of the wonders seen by them at the Louvre in Paris. The husband mentioned with enthusiasm a picture which represented Adam and Eve and the serpent in the Garden of Eden, in connection with the eating of the forbidden fruit. The wife also waxed enthusiastic, and interjected a remark:

   "Yes, we found the picture most interesting, most interesting indeed, because, you see, we know the anecdote."

   *    *    *

   The Yankee tourist described glowingly the statue of a beautiful woman which he had seen in an art museum abroad.

   "And the way she stood, so up and coming, was grand. But," he added, with a tone of disgust, "those foreigners don't know how to spell. The name of the statue was Posish'—and it was some posish, believe me! and the dumb fools spelt it—'Psyche!'"

   *    *    *

   "Tell me, does your husband snore?"

   "Oh, yes, indeed—so delightfully."

   "What?"

   "Yes, really—he's so musical you know, his voice is baritone, he only snores operatic bits, mostly

    Aida

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