A Staten Island man, when the mosquitoes began to get busy in the borough across the bay, has been in the habit every summer of transplanting his family to the Delaware Water Gap for a few weeks. They were discussing their plans the other day, when the oldest boy, aged eight, looked up from his geography and said:
"Pop, Philadelphia is on the Delaware River, isn't it?"
Pop replied that such was the case.
"I wonder if that's what makes the Delaware Water Gap?" insinuated the youngster.—S.S. Stinson.
Among the guests at an informal dinner in New York was a bright Philadelphia girl.
"These are snails," said a gentleman next to her, when the dainty was served. "I suppose Philadelphia people don't eat them for fear of cannibalism."
"Oh, no," was her instant reply; "it isn't that. We couldn't catch them."