“Too high fur a strike!” quavered the umpire with magnificent presence of mind. “Yas, suh, entirely too high fur a strike.” § 229 George, the Forbearing When Millie came on a Saturday night to bring the week’s washing her comely, pleasant brown face was disfigured by a swollen black contusion which began at her left eye and extended downward until it covered her cheek. “Oh, Millie,” said her distressed employer, “what a dreadful bruise! How did it ever happen?” “A nigger man hit me,” explained Millie simply. “Oh, that’s terrible!” exclaimed the white lady. “I hope—I hope it wasn’t your husband that struck you?” “No’m, Mizz Harrison, ’twuzn’t him. Gawge, he don’t never hit me. He treats me mo’ lak a friend than a husband.” § 230 An Old One and Its Younger Half-Brother Everybody does know—or should know—the ancient wheeze of the theatre manager who posted a sign in his house: “Don’t Smoke—Remember the Iroquois Fire,” and of the wag who wrote under this the added warning: “Don’t Spit—Remember the Johnstown Flood.” A half-brother to this yarn, of somewhat newer vintage, however, comes from a regular army post. A newly enlisted private, still unskilled in military etiquette, flung a lighted cigarette end on the parade ground. The first sergeant of his company saw the crime committed. He made the offender pick up the smouldering butt and then stand at attention while being scolded at length. When mess call sounded, the new hand was tardy for his meal. “What made you late?” demanded the sergeant. “Oh,” said the private, “I walked down to the river to spit.” § 231 Corroboration from On High Little Florence was inclined to over-exaggeration; also she was overly timid in some regards. Her mother was striving to rid her of both faults. One afternoon Florence was playing in the front yard. A fox-terrier, belonging to a neighbor, darted at her playfully. With a shriek of fright Florence fled indoors and never stopped running until she had reached the room upstairs where her mother sat. “What’s the matter?” asked Mrs. Marshall. “Mamma,” said Florence, “a great big bear came through a crack in the fence and chased me in the house; he almost caught me, too.” “Florence,” said the mother sternly, “aren’t you ashamed of yourself to be so frightened of Mr. James’ little pet dog and then to tell a deliberate falsehood? I was sitting here at the window and I saw the whole thing. Now I’m going to punish you. You go in your own room and get down on your knees and confess to the Lord that you’re a naughty little girl and that you told your mother a deliberate lie. I want you to stay there, too, until you feel sure that you have obtained forgiveness for your sin.”