shman.

"How goes it?" he inquired.

"Faith, it'sh me breathin', doctor. I can't get me breath at all, at
all."

"Why, your pulse is normal. Let me examine the lung-action," replied the
doctor, kneeling beside the cot and laying his head on the ample chest.

"Now, let's hear you talk," he continued, closing his eyes and
listening.

"What'll Oi be sayin', doctor?"

"Oh, say anything. Count one, two, three, and up," murmured the interne,
drowsily.

"Wan, two, three, four, five, six," began the patient. When the young
doctor, with a start, opened his eyes, he was counting huskily: "Tin
hundred an' sixty-nine, tin hundred an' sivinty, tin hundred an'
sivinty-wan."

THE MAN HE LEFT BEHIND

An English storekeeper went to the war and left his clerk behind to look
after things. When he was wounded and taken to the hospital, what was
his surprise to find his clerk in the cot next to him.

"Well, I thought I left you to take care of the store," said the
storekeeper.

"You did," answered the clerk, "But you didn't tell me I had to look
after your women folks as well as the store. I stood it as long as I
could and then I said to myself: 'Look here, if you've got to fight, you
might as well go and fight someone that you can hit.'"

SOME SPEED

It was a dull day in the trenches, and a bunch of Tommies had gathered
and were discussing events. After a while the talk turned on a big Boche
who had been captured the night before.

"He was scared stiff," said one Tommy.

"Did he run?" asked another.

"Run?" replied the first. "Why, if that Boche had had jest one feather
in his hand he'd 'a' flew."

A DEEP-LAID PLAN

"Would you mind letting me off fifteen minutes early after this, sir?"
asked the bookkeeper. "You see, I've moved into the suburbs and I can't
catch my train unless I leave at a quarter before five o'clock."

"I suppose I'll have to," grumbled the boss; "but you should have
thought of that before you moved."

"I did," confided the bookkeeper to the stenographer a little later,
"and that's the reason I moved."

ONLY ONE THING FOR HIM

A three-hundred-pound man stood gazing longingly at the nice things
displayed in a haberdasher's window for a marked-down sale. A friend
stopped to inquire if he was thinking of buying shirts or pyjamas.

"Gosh, no!" replied the fat man wistfully. "The only thing that fits me
ready-made is a handkerchief."

A TEST OF FRIENDSHIP

Andy Foster, a well-know