"I ain't h'isting the jib," replied the terrified cook, believing that the sail was bewitched, for sailors are quite superstitious, you know. "Let go the halliards," shouted the mate. "We shall be across the draw, and all go to Davy Jones' locker. Hear, d---- you, Slush-bucket?" Still the old doctor pulled for dear life, and still rose the ghost-like sail, while the affrighted cook and all hands ran aft, looking as pale as death. Still the sail went up, up, and the captain and mate began to be astonished, when by this time--less time than it requires to tell it--the old doctor had reached the rail of the vessel, and shouted lustily for help. All ran forward to help the corpulent old doctor on deck, and by means of a man at each arm, and a boat-hook fast into the doctor's unmentionables, he was hauled safely on board, a wetter and a wiser man. If you want to get kicked out of his office, just say in his hearing, "_Let go them 'ere halliards_," and it is done. "O, mermaids, is it cold and wet Adown beneath the sea? It seems to me that rather chill Must Davy's locker be." MEDICAL TITBITS. _More Mustard than Meat._--A poor, emaciated Irishman having called in a physician as a forlorn hope, the latter spread a large mustard plaster and applied it to the poor fellow's lean chest. "Ah, docthor," said Pat, looking down upon the huge plaster with tearful eyes, "it sames to me it's a dale of mustard for so little mate." * * * * * "_Don't want to be an Angel._"--"I want to be an angel," which has been so long shouted by _millions_ of darling little Sunday school children, who hadn't the remotest idea for what they had been wishing (?), and whose parents would not voluntarily consent to the premature transformation, if the children did, has received a check in the following:-- A little sprite, who had been so very sick that her life was despaired of, was told one morning by the doctor that she would now get well. "O, I'm so glad, doctor!" she replied; "for I don't want to die and go to heaben, and be an angel, and wear fedders, like a hen." TOOTH DRAWING. A snobbish-appearing individual accosted a countryman in homespun with the following interrogation:-- "I say, ah, my fraand, are you sufficiently conversant with the topography of _this_ neighborhood to direct me to the nearest disciple of Æsculapius, eh?" "What?" exclaimed the astonished rustic. "Can you familiarize me with the most direct course to a physician?" "Hey?" "Can you tell me where a doctor lives?" "O, a doctor's house. Why didn't you say so before?" * * * * * The next is after the same sort. A sailor chap entered a dentist's office to have a tooth extracted. [Illustration: "LOWER TIER, LARBOARD SIDE."] _Doctor (with great professional dignity, speaking very slowly)._ "Well, mariner, what tooth do you require extracted? Is it an incisor, bicuspid, or a molar?"