floral fimljiiiet ami Pictorial Some lloiiijmnloifi. 
HOOK’S PRACTICAL JOKE. 
Strolling one day arm-in-arm with Daniel Terry, 
the actor, up a street in Soho, Hook’s nostrils were 
assailed by a most savory odor. Looking down an 
urea, he saw the servants in the kitchen below dress¬ 
ing up a very line dinner. “ A party, no doubt,” said 
Terry. “ Jolly dogs ! What a feast! I should like 
to make one of them,” 
“ I’ll take a bet I do,” re¬ 
plied Hook. “ Call for 
me at ten.” 
Leaving his friend, he 
mounted the steps and 
knocked at the door. Be¬ 
lieving him to be one of 
the expected guests, the 
servant conducted him to 
the drawing-room, where 
a number of persons were 
already assembled. 
Making himself per¬ 
fectly at home, he had half 
a dozen people about him 
laughing at his bon mots 
before the host discovered 
that a stranger was pre¬ 
sent. “ I beg your par¬ 
don, sir,” he said, address¬ 
ing the uninvited one, 
“ your name ? I did not 
quite catch it, servants are 
so incorrect.” “ Smith, 
sir, Smith,” replied the 
unblushing Theodore. 
“ Don’t apologize. You 
are quite right, sir; serv¬ 
ants are great block¬ 
heads. I remember a 
most remarkable instance 
of their mistakes.” “ But, 
repartee, and ultimately sat down to the piano and 
sang extempore verses on every one present. In the 
midst of these the door opened, and, true to his ap¬ 
pointment, in walked Terry, at the sight of whom, 
striking a new key, he sang : 
I’m very much pleased with your fare; 
Your cellar’s as fine as your cook, 
My friend’s Mr. Terry, the player. 
And I am Mr. Theodore Hook.” 
Mortarfying Occurrence. —“ You see, my dear,” 
he explained, “ the man was climbing the ladder with 
a hodful of mortar on his shoulder. Just as I passed 
really, sir,” interrupted 
the host, mildly, “ I did 
not anticipate the pleasure 
of Mr. Smith’s company 
to dinner. Whom do you 
suppose you are address¬ 
ing ? ” “ Mr. Thompson, 
o f course,” answered 
Hook, “ an old friend of 
my father’s. I received a 
kind invitation from you 
yesterday, on my arrival 
from Liverpool, to diue 
with you to-day. Family 
party, come in boots, you 
said.” 
The host at once dis¬ 
claimed the name of Thompson or any knowledge of 
the vivacious Smith. “ Good heavens ! Then I have 
come to the wrong house,” exclaimed the hoaxer. 
“My deai' sir, how can I apologize? So awkward, 
too; and I have asked a friend to call for me.” 
The old gentleman, probably thinking so witty a 
personage would make an excellent addition to his 
party, begged him to remain. With a profusion of 
apologies, Hook at first pretended to decline; ulti¬ 
mately accepted. Everybody was delighted with him. 
All the evening he kept up a constant fire of wit and 
Childhood’s Joys. 
under it he slipped, and the whole contents of the hod 
came down on my head.” 
“ How ridiculous you must have looked !” she re¬ 
plied. 
“ On the contrary, my dear, I was sub-lime.” 
“ Did you attend church to-day, as I charged you ?” 
inquired an old planter, in the old time, of one of his 
slaves, as he returned to his dwelling. 
“ Sartin, massa,” was Cudjo’s reply: “ an’ what 
two mighty big stories dat preacher did tell! ” 
“ Hush ! Cudjo, you musn’t talk that way; what 
stories were they ? ” 
“ Why, he tells the people no man can serve two 
massas—now dis is de fust story, ’cause, you see, old 
Cudjo sarves you, my ole massa, and also young massa 
John. Den de preacher says, 4 he will lub one and 
hate de oder,’ while de Lord knows I hate you boff /” 
A little five-year-old could not quite understand 
why the stars did not shine one night when the rain 
was pouring down in torrents. She stood at the win¬ 
dow pondering on the subject with as much gravity as 
Galileo when he looked 
at the swinging lamp in 
the cathedral at Pisa, and 
with equal success, for all 
at once her countenance 
lighted up and she said : 
“ Mother, I know why 
the stars don’t- shine. God 
has pulled them all up so 
as to let the water come 
through the holes.” 
A gentleman, whose 
proboscis had suffered am¬ 
putation, was invited out 
to tea. 
“ My dear,” said the 
good woman of the house 
to her little daughter, “I 
want you to be very par¬ 
ticular and to make no re¬ 
mark about Mr. Jenkins’s 
nose.” 
Gathered about the 
table, everything was go¬ 
ing well; the child peeped 
about, looked rather puz¬ 
zled, and at last startled 
the table : 
“ Ma, why did you tell 
me to say nothing about 
Mr. Jenkins’s nose ? He 
hasn’t got any ! ” 
The Rev. Mr. G-, 
of Stirling, remarked to 
one of his hearers that he 
had heard that he was 
about to be married for 
the third time. The rev¬ 
erend gentleman added: 
“ They say, John, you’re 
getting money with her ; 
you did so on the last two 
occasions ; you’ll get quite 
rich by the wives.” 
“ ’Deed, sir,” quietly re¬ 
sponded John, “what wi 
bringin’ them in and put¬ 
ting them out, there’s nae 
muckle made o’ them.” 
Little Mary P.’s father had gone to Europe. Dur¬ 
ing his absence she prayed continually for him that 
God would take care of him and bless him. On his 
return she ceased praying for him. “ Why don’t you 
pray for father now?” asked her mother. “We 
have got him at home now, and we can take care of 
him ourselves! ” 
4 ‘Why do you use paint ? ” asked a violinist of his 
daughter. “ For the same reason that you use rosin, 
papa.” “How is that?” “Why, to help me draw my 
beau.” 
