“Well, then, what is the matter?” “Listen, Meester: T’ree days already I am on der wrong train!” § 311 A Temptation to His Majesty The steamer was calling at the principal port of one of those remote South Sea islands regarding which so much romance has been written these last few years by gifted fictionists and imaginative travelers. In canoes the natives paddled out to welcome the strangers from other climes. At the head of the volunteer reception committee came the ruling monarch, King Some-thing-or-Other, a huge brown man with an air of heavy dignity and a battered high hat upon his head. He was accompanied by the Imperial staff and also by his household retinue, the party including all of his wives, many of his children and his prime minister. The latter was a Cockney beach-comber who had been stranded here years before and who, having been adopted into the tribe had risen to a place of high favor in the eyes of the copper-colored potentate. The king, his premier, and his body-guard were welcomed aboard ship. The subjects remained alongside, in broken English begging the passengers to throw pennies down to them. Whenever a coin struck the water, half a dozen islanders at once dived for it. One of the visitors was generously inclined. When he had emptied his pockets of coppers he began flinging out small bits of silver and correspondingly, the excitement among the amphibious natives increased. In the hope of moving them to an even more spirited exhibition of their powers, the white benefactor fished about until he found a silver dollar. He was in the act of hurling it over the side when the prime minister caught his arm. “Please, sir,” begged the Cockney, “don’t do that, sir. Hi ask you to restrain yourself, sir. You’ll be ’aving ’Is Royal ’Ighness overboard next!” § 312 Giving the Lady the Air A country girl went to Charleston, South Carolina, to have some work done on her teeth. The operator was cleansing a cavity with a small blow-pipe. The patient flinched. “Do you feel that air?” asked the dentist. “That air whut?” said the young lady. § 313 Complete in Every Detail The gentleman who entered the popular-price restaurant must have had a great night the night before. Because he felt so miserable this morning. And looked it! He was disheveled; his eyes were wan and bloodshot; his hand trembled. In short, it was plain to any eye that he suffered from what, technically, is known as a hang-over. He fell into a chair at the table, took one look at the breakfast menu and gagged. To him, all affability, came a colored waiter. “Well, boss,” began the servitor genially, “whut’s it goin’ to be this mawnin’?” “Oh, I don’t know,” said the sufferer. He sniffed the close air of the little place and turned slightly paler. “I feel like the devil. About all I want, I guess, is two fried eggs and a few kind words.”