There was a member, now deceased, of a New York club much frequented by members of the theatrical profession, who suffered in the latter years of his life from a curious internal disorder. Always involuntarily and often at inopportune moments, he gave off weird rumbling and wheezing sounds. One evening with three fellow members he was playing bridge. He was suffering at the moment from an especially violent attack. A certain comedian, who had been imbibing heavily, approached. Immediately the newcomer’s attention was focussed upon the strange, ghostly noises which at intervals occurred. Just as he had traced these mysterious manifestations to their source the afflicted gentleman, after an especially violent outburst, spoke: “I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for causing this disturbance. I assure you I cannot help it—the thing is entirely beyond my control. I really don’t know what is the matter with me.” “I know what’s the matter with you,” cried out the inebriated one, “you’re haunted!” § 352 Already Showing Signs of Use “Well,” said the friendly grocer, “I hear you’ve got a little baby brother up at your house. What do you think of him?” “I don’t like him,” said Mildred frankly. “He’s got a funny red face and he cries all the time.” “Well,” asked the grocer, “why don’t you send him back where he came from?” “Oh, I’m afraid we couldn’t do that,” she said. “We’ve used him two days already.” § 353 A Hint to the Wise Is Ample Here of late as all readers of the daily press know, the Ku Klux Klan has been rather active in parts of the state of Arkansas. In a small town north of Little Rock, the colored population has been much exercised over the midnight marches and the occasional visitations of the masked brotherhood. In this town two negroes met. One of them said: “Look yere, Henery, whut would you do ef you wuz to git a notice from them ole Ku Kluxes?” “Me?” said Henry. “I’d _finish_ readin’ it on de train!” § 354 Just Before the Shooting Started Just before hostilities ended in 1918, a young lieutenant of my acquaintance was detailed to duty as a drill officer at a camp of colored draft troops in Mississippi. He said that late one night he was returning from a near-by town to his quarters. As he neared the sentry lines, out of the darkness came a voice calling: “Halt!” He halted, gave the countersign and started on. Immediately, in the gloom, there was a rattle as of a rifle being shifted in the sentry’s hands and again the same voice cried: “Halt!” “You’ve halted me once already,” he said sharply, rightly figuring that the unseen one must be a green trooper, “and I’ve given you the password. What more do you want?” “But, boss,” said the sentry, drawing nearer, “I don’t know you.” “Very probable,” said the captain. “What has that got to do with it?”