ry across the
Niagara River on a rope; would you shake the cable, or keep shouting out
to him--'Blondin, stand up a little straighter--Blondin, stoop a little
more--go a little faster--lean a little more to the north--lean a little
more to the south?' No, you would hold your breath as well as your
tongue, and keep your hands off until he was safe over. The Government
is carrying an immense weight. Untold treasures are in our hands. We are
doing the very best we can. Don't badger us. Keep silence, and we'll get
you safe across."

Punning is of course out of fashion. The best pun in the English
language is Tom Hood's:

"He went and told the sexton,
And the sexton tolled the bell."

Dr. Johnson said that the pun was the lowest order of wit. Newspapers
formerly indulged in it freely. One editor would say: "We don't care a
straw what Shakespeare said--a rose by any other name would not smell as
wheat." Then another paper would answer: "Such puns are barley
tolerable, they amaize us, they arouse our righteous corn, and they turn
the public taste a-rye."

But punning, when it is unusually clever and spontaneous, may be
thoroughly enjoyable, as in the following:

Chief Justice Story attended a public dinner in Boston at which Edward
Everett was present. Desiring to pay a delicate compliment to the
latter, the learned judge proposed as a volunteer toast:

"Fame follows merit where Everett goes."

The brilliant scholar arose and responded:

"To whatever heights judicial learning may attain in this country, it
will never get above one Story."

Story-telling may attain the character of a disease, in one who has a
retentive memory and a voluble vocabulary. The form of humor known as
repartee, however, is one that requires rare discrimination. It should
be used sparingly, and not at all if it is likely to give offence.

Beau Brummell was guilty in this respect, when he was once asked by a
lady if he would "take a cup of tea." "Thank you," said he, "I never
_take_ anything but physic." "I beg your pardon," said the hostess, "you
also take liberties."

There is a story that Henry Luttrell had sat long in the Irish
Parliament, but no one knew his precise age. Lady Holland, without
regard to considerations of courtesy, one day said to him point-blank,
"Now, we are all dying to know how old you are. Just tell me." Luttrell
answered very gravely, "It is an odd question, but as you, Lady Holland,
ask it, I don't min