Orl flesh are gras!"

The ridiculous part of the story is that the lady did not wait to
summon the Coroner, but took charge of the remains herself; and in
dragging them toward the bed she exploded into her face a shotgun,
which had been cunningly contrived to discharge by a string
connected with the body. Thus was she punished for an infraction of
the law. The next day the particulars were told me by the facetious
Coroner himself, whose jury had just rendered a verdict of
accidental drowning in both cases. I don't know when I have enjoyed
a heartier laugh. The Optimist, and What He Died Of.

One summer evening, while strolling with considerable difficulty
over Russian Hill, San Francisco, Mr. Grile espied a man standing
upon the extreme summit, with a pensive brow and a suit of clothes
which seemed to have been handed down through a long line of
ancestors from a remote Jew peddler. Mr. Grile respectfully saluted;
a man who has any clothes at all is to him an object of veneration.
The stranger opened the conversation:

"My son," said he, in a tone suggestive of strangulation by the
Sheriff, "do you behold this wonderful city, its wharves crowded
with the shipping of all nations?"

Mr. Grile beheld with amazement.

"Twenty-one years ago-alas! it used to be but twenty," and he wiped
away a tear--"you might have bought the whole dern thing for a
Mexican ounce."