"How about that airship?"
"It went up in smoke."
"Oh, no. Made an ascension at Pittsburg."
SKYBOUGH—"Why have you put that vacuum cleaner in front of your airship?"
KLOUDLEIGH—"To clear a path. I have an engagement to sail over Pittsburg."
A man just back from South America was describing a volcanic disturbance.
"I was smoking a cigar before the door of my hotel," said he, "when I was startled by a rather violent earthquake. The next instant the sun was obscured and darkness settled over the city. Looking in the direction of the distant volcano, I saw heavy clouds of smoke rolling from it, with an occasional tongue of flame flashing against the dark sky.
"Some of the natives about me were on their knees praying; others darted aimlessly about, crazed with terror and shouting for mercy. The landlord of the hotel rushed out and seized me by the arm.
"'To the harbor!' he cried in my ear.
"Together we hurried down the narrow street. As we panted along, the dark smoke whirled in our faces, and a dangerous shower of red-hot cinders sizzled about us. Do you know, I don't believe I was ever so homesick in all my life!"
"Homesick?" gasped the listener. "Homesick at a time like that?"
"Sure. I live in Pittsburg, you know."