The officers' mess was discussing rifle shooting.
"I'll bet anyone here," said one young lieutenant, "that I can fire twenty shots at two hundred yards and call each shot correctly without waiting for the marker. I'll stake a box of cigars that I can."
"Done!" cried a major.
The whole mess was on hand early next morning to see the experiment tried.
The lieutenant fired.
"Miss," he calmly announced.
A second shot.
"Miss," he repeated.
A third shot.
"Here, there! Hold on!" protested the major. "What are you trying to do? You're not shooting for the target at all."
"Of course not," admitted the lieutenant. "I'm firing for those cigars." And he got them.
Two old cronies went into a drug store in the downtown part of New York City, and, addressing the proprietor by his first name, one of them said:
"Dr. Charley, we have made a bet of the ice-cream sodas. We will have them now and when the bet is decided the loser will drop in and pay for them."
As the two old fellows were departing after enjoying their temperance beverage, the druggist asked them what the wager was.
"Well," said one of them, "our friend George bets that when the tower of the Singer Building falls, it will topple over toward the North River, and I bet that it won't."