84 Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



and blessed with the strongest imaginations. A 

 grandmother gave me the following. She had 

 explained very patiently the nature of that respect 

 which is due to age from youth. At the end she 

 asked, " Do you understand what I have been 

 saying ? " 



" You bet I do," replied the grandson (aged six). 

 " I know that it would n't do for me call you — 

 Tom." 



During a heavy rainstorm, an urchin was seen by 

 his mother to drop upon his knees. " Dear God," 

 prayed the child, " father says we have had rain 

 enough. Please turn off the faucet." 



This urchin once begged me to read aloud to him 

 from the paper I held in my hand. I assured him 

 that what I was perusing — the annual statement 

 of one of the banks — would not interest him. He 

 begged to contradict me. So I began : " Capital 

 Stock. . . $3,000,000." 



He interrupted me at once. Stock, seemingly, 

 suggested dairy cows, for he said eagerly : " By 

 golly, three million dollars ! Would n't I like to 

 own those cows, and would n't I milk 'em for all 

 they were worth, and sell 'em when they went dry ? " 



Upon another occasion, he had returned from a 

 visit to one of the neighbours' wives, whom he pro- 

 nounced a perfect lady. I took exception to the 

 adjective and substantive, the person in question 

 being a peasant. " Well," said he, " she may not be 

 a perfect lady, but she 's a very agreeable woman." 



Upon the deck of a steamer I heard the fol- 

 lowing: A small boy from the West asked a 

 friend of mine, a striking-looking man, who he 



