Wit and Humour.

Bruce Herald, Volume XVII, Issue 1759, 18 June 1886, Page 5

Wit and Humour.

Fogg bos rerpetrat d the meanest conundrum yet. He wants to know why Mrs F.s mouth ia like the Temple of Janus. Tho brute says it is because it is peace when it is closed, and when it is open it is war. A country paper tells this atory of a new boy at school : — The precocious youth was asked who made the beautiful hills about them, and remarked that he did not know, as his parents only moved into the town the day before. Junior partner — " Our traveller ought to he punished. He told one of our customers that lam an ignorant fool." Senior partner —"I shall apeak to him without fail, and insist that no more office Becretß be divulged." The proprietors of a new hair remedy assert that tbe race of bald heads will now entirely disappear. What will the flies do for a skating rink then ?" *' Good bye, Mr Smith ; I'm off for Bulgaria. Professional wcrk you know." " Going to paint some war scenes ?" " No, not exactly. I'm engaged to plaster the Balkans with ' Buy Jones' Canned Meats,' and ' Try Smith's Pills.' " " Ouida" doesn't believe in destiny. She says : " I believe there's nothing which befalls us, from a catarrh to a catastrophe, which, if we choose to be honest with ourselves, we may not trace to our own imprudence." Sow about beiug struck by lightning, or sitting down on a carpet tack ? " Chawles," languidly drawled Josephine, looking up from her book, " I see one of the new studies is trigonometry. What ia trigonometry ?" " Trigonometry," replied Charles, toying with an invalid moustache, " is a — a— is the science of pulling the trigger, of course." "I thought so," said Josepline, resuming her novel. "My dear," said a frightened husband in the middle of the night, " where did you put that bottle of strychnine ?" "On the shelf n»xt the peppermint." "Ob!" be groaned, " I've swallowed it!" "Well, for goodness sake " whispered his w fe, " keep quiet or you'll wake the baby." It is difficult to ace persona one has never 'oved as'eep and yet retain anger towards them. They look so helpless, so innocent, so free from all that could ever have moved our spleen, that not the most eloqumt defence that language ever framed could plead their cause as well as that mute slumber. But wait until they snore — well — just wait, that's all Biddy — '* There's a coupe of ladies called, Missus De Vere." Mrs De Vere — *' Oh, dear, I can't see anyone now. Excuso me, Biddy, tell them I'm asleep." Biddy — " Miasus De Vere presents her compliments, au soz she's very sorry, but she's aalape '' The rubber bag connected with his costume col ap«ed the other night while an actor was ploying the part of Falsta/fm Chicago, and he dwindled in size alarmingly before the eyes of the assemble! spectators. As no bellows could be found, all hands had to-help to blow bim up again. Sunday-school teacher — " Can you toll me Jessie, what is meant by the mantle of the prophet ?" Jessie — " His dolman, miss." Agnes, sitting next to her — " Her mither's a dressmaker, miss, an' kens a' aboot ma'ifclea." Te icher, facetiously — " I dare aay she knows more about the pr jfit of a mantle than the mantle of a prophet, though !" Villager—" D'ye see that buddy the Marquis ? If that buddy was a tailor, ye wadna' trust him to mnk' a pair o' spats !" By-and* bye the Marquis showed somo civility to this villager. Then the tune was changed. The Marquis drove him some miles in hia carriage, which indeod wa* drawn by four horses. Then the villager said — "Ah, he's a wonderful man I" Stranger (addressing native) — " What is the matter with that old, grey-headed man ? is he drunk?" Native— " Oh, noj ho was never drunk in his life." Stranger—" Well, why does he kick up his heels that way ?" Native — " He's lupoy." .Mraneer — " Lottery ptize?" Native— "Oh.no. His grandfather wrote an article for a niigazine, and it has just been published." " Will you please give me some dinner, ma'am ?" begged a tramp. " I guess so," wa9 the reply. " Will you have a plate of soup ?' ' "I'm not particular," said the tramp, " there waa a time," he went on mournfully, " when I wouldn't think of Bitting down to dinner without Eoup } but things is different now. You kin start me on roast beef, or pie, or even an ontry, for all I oire." " I wish I were yon star," he said, dreamily "So do I," she returned promptly, heroically swallowing a yawn. " And why, dear one ?" he asked impulsively — " why do you wish I were yon brilliant orb?" " Because," she replied, in cold, matter-of-fuct Bostonose tones, " because yon brilliant orb is just 11,760,971 miles away-" And he faded silently out like a mist before a summer sun. A worthy Scot was pressing his snuff-box upon a .fellow-passenger with a very large nose who seemingly did not like the look of the mull or its contents. Bent on refusing the offer, the passenger politely remarked tha' he did not take snuff The Scot eyed him for a moment, and then, looking him full in the face remarked, " Man, that's a peety, as ye hae sac gran' accommodation!" A Suabian village clergyman waa exhorting a young couple who had come to ask him to put up the barms — " So then, my dear young friends, you wish to enter the holy estate of matrimony. But have you thoroughly prepared yourßalvea for this important atop you are about to take?'' "We have that," replied the damsel; "we stuck a pig and killed a dozen c^ick-ns, and we've baked tarts and cab-s enoug to mak'- the tables bend with the weight. That ought to be. sufficient." There was one woman i-i t u e dr'ss ci r l ** of a theatre tho oth r mglv who di't not we»r any hat. She'liad on a'i encmous hat W'.en the performance b«^gan which prevented the gentleman behi> d her from, seeing what was being played o'i the stag.*, de leaned over and s.iiJ— "Miss, will you be kind enough to remov-.i your hat as I can't ace tho stage." "No, sir, I prefer to keep my hat on," she replie.l with dignity. "It is a pity that you should keep your hat on, he said, as it prevents the people behind you from admiring your beautiful hair." There was one woman in the theatie who didn't wear any bat after that, little conversation. The soft snow clung to each overhanging limb of the trees, and tho sun lighted up tbe scene with a touch of gold. It was really a beautiful sight that greeted the eyes of Rosalind McGush as Bhe parted the curtain of her boudoir and gazed forth. "O, what rhapsodies fill my soul," she exclaimed, ** I teally believe that I could fiuish tbit poem on the ' Crystalline Snow' if my ink wasn't frozen. O^ «hy ." " Hi, there, Rosey," shouted a gruff voice from the foot of the stairs. " Yer mother's g't the rheumatia } yell have to come down and fry the bacon for breakfast," Thus it is that the poetical and practical, the sublime and the ridiculous, are, toatiaually coramia^lod^