"What is the trouble, wifey?"
"Yes, there is. What are you crying about, something that happened at home or something that happened in a novel?"
It was married men's night at the revival meeting.
"Let all you husbands who have troubles on your minds stand up!" shouted the preacher at the height of his spasm.
Instantly every man in the church arose except one.
"Ah!" exclaimed the preacher, peering out at this lone individual, who occupied a chair near the door. "You are one in a million."
"It ain't that," piped back this one helplessly as the rest of the congregation gazed suspiciously at him: "I can't get up—I'm paralyzed!"
JUDGE—"Your innocence is proved. You are acquitted."
PRISONER (to the jury)—"Very sorry, indeed, gentlemen, to have given you all this trouble for nothing."
A friend of mine, returning to his home in Virginia after several years' absence, met one of the old negroes, a former servant of his family. "Uncle Moses," he said, "I hear you got married."
"Yes, Marse Tom, I is, and I's having a moughty troublesome time, Marse Tom, moughty troublesome."
"What's the trouble?" said my friend.
"Why, dat yaller woman, Marse Tom. She all de time axin' me fer money. She don't give me no peace."
"How long have you been married, Uncle Moses?"
"Nigh on ter two years, come dis spring."
"And how much money have you given her?"
"Well, I ain't done gin her none yit."—Sue M.M. Halsey.
If you want to forget all your other troubles, wear tight shoes.
Never bear more than one kind of trouble at a time. Some people bear three—all they have had, all they have now, and all they expect to have.—Edward Everett Hale.