A tourist from the east, visiting an old prospector in his lonely cabin in the hills, commented: "And yet you seem so cheerful and happy." "Yes," replied the one of the pick and shovel. "I spent a week in Boston once, and no matter what happens to me now, it seems good luck in comparison."
A little Boston girl with exquisitely long golden curls and quite an angelic appearance in general, came in from an afternoon walk with her nurse and said to her mother, "Oh, Mamma, a strange woman on the street said to me, 'My, but ain't you got beautiful hair!'"
The mother smiled, for the compliment was well merited, but she gasped as the child innocently continued her account:
"I said to her, 'I am very glad to have you like my hair, but I am sorry to hear you use the word "ain't"!'"—E. R. Bickford.
NAN—"That young man from Boston is an interesting talker, so far as you can understand what he says; but what a queer dialect he uses."
FAN—"That isn't dialect; it's vocabulary. Can't you tell the difference?"
A Bostonian died, and when he arrived at St. Peter's gate he was asked the usual questions:
"What is your name, and where are you from?"
The answer was, "Mr. So-and-So, from Boston."
"You may come in," said Peter, "but I know you won't like it."
There was a young lady from Boston,
A two-horned dilemma was tossed on,
As to which was the best,
To be rich in the west
Or poor and peculiar in Boston.