woke or moved till it was broad daylight and the train was a hundred
miles beyond Buffalo. He called angrily to the porter, "See here,
you, didn't I tell you to put me off at Buffalo?" The porter looked
at him, aghast. "Well, I declare to goodness, boss!" he exclaimed;
"if it wasn't you, who was that man that I threw off this train at
half-past three at Buffalo?"

Now this story is as nearly fool-proof as can be. And yet it is
amazing how badly it can be messed up by a person with a special
gift for mangling a story. He does it something after this fashion:

"There was a fellow got on the train one night and he had a berth
reserved for Buffalo; at least the way I heard it, it was Buffalo,
though I guess, as a matter of fact, you might tell it on any other
town just as well--or no, I guess he didn't have his berth reserved,
he got on the train and asked the porter for a reservation for
Buffalo--or, anyway, that part doesn't matter--say that he had a
berth for Buffalo or any other place, and the porter came through and
said, 'Do you want an early call?'--or no, he went to the
porter--that was it--and said--"

But stop. The rest of the story becomes a mere painful waiting for
the end.

Of course the higher type of funny story is the one that depends
for its amusing quality not on the final point, or not solely on
it, but on the wording and the narration all through. This is the
way in which a story is told by a comedian or a person who is a
raconteur in the real sense. When Sir Harry Lauder narrates an
incident, the telling of it is funny from beginning to end. When