NOTHING SERIOUS.

Cromwell Argus, Volume L, Issue 2647, 10 November 1919, Page 7

NOTHING SERIOUS.

BAD LUCK. His better half, carried away by patriotic zeal, had followed him to France in the Red’Cross. After a short period, of hate which he had to go through, he made close acquaintance with some shrapnel. Dear wifey was bending over his hopeless form. The man looked, then closed his eyes. “Isn’t that just my rotten luck !” he murmured. “With all these pretty nurses over here looking after the soldiers, lihad to draw you !” NON-COMBATANTS. The Clown Prince, and, incidentally, the Lord of Looters, was inspecting the Fourteenth Leberwurst Regiment previous to its going into the firing-line. He was asking questions of all and sundry, when at last he - was confronted with a weedy old little individual, who, with his pasty complexion and goggles, was the typical Hun. “Have you any brothers ?” queried the all-but the Almighty. “Yes, your Majesty.” “How many ?” “Seven, your Majesty.” “And they are all, of course, fighting for the dear Fatherland ?” continued the lesser Willie. “All except one, your Majesty.” “And where is he ?” “In the Navy, your Majesty !” JUST LIKE THAi ! - ’ ’Enery was an absent-minded little man, and this was his first meeting with the circular-saw. The foreman, with a few well chosen and richly-flavoured words, informed him how to work the contrivance. ’Enery was vastly interested in the shining, whizzing blade ; and, curiosity overcoming his discretion, he found himself with one finger less. “Hallo, my man, what’s up ?” asked the foreman, coming round again. ’Enery described the accident. “How did you manage it ?” “Sure, and I don’t know ! I just touched the blamed thing like this By George, there goesi another one !” QUALIFIED FOR HIS JOB. Percy Vere de Vere had joined as a private, but never got tired of talking about the wealthy home he. had left and airing his accomplishments. On parade one day a sergeant shouted out : “Any man 'ere who understands motors take three steps forward !” Dazzling visions of promotion flashed before Percy’s mind. This was his opportunity. He confronted the sergeant.

“Well —er —my guv’nor and I had a couple of Daimlers, and —er —a sixty horse-power machine. The other was an eighty, with an average mileage of ”,

“That’s alright !” bawled the sergeant. “Go to the garage and give the C.O.’S'motor-bike a good clean !’

THOROUGHLY DONS ?

“I want you to clean my shop window,” said Mrs. Jones to Smasher, the village champion window-cleaner. ‘‘Can you do it this morning while I go shopping ?” ‘‘Oh, yes, I shall do it all right, ma’am !” said the man with the pail.

And during the dear lady’s absence he went to work with might and main, finishing in line style and excellent time.

‘‘Smasher,” said the old lady on her return, and glancing with appreciation on his handy work, ‘‘you have done it very well. I can't see a scratch or stain. Here’s the money and an extra shilling. Why, it looks almost as if there was no glass there !”

‘‘Well, there ain’t !” smiled Smasher sheepishly. ‘‘Me and th 6 ladder went through right at the start !”•

Chamois leather should be washed, when necessary, in soapsuds and rinsed in soapsuds, not in clean water. Treated thus it will always keep its original softness.

He was very disreputable-looking,, uncared for like, and he was before the Court.

‘‘What is the charge ?” asked the learned judge. “Desertion,” said the prosecutor, solemnly. “I ain’t a deserter !” protested'the prisoner vehemently, at the same time removing a bandage from a black eye and displaying welts all over his head. “I’m a refugee !”

“How are you, my dear ?” “Very well, thank you,” returned the child.

“Now, my dear, you should ask me how I am.” “But I don’t want to know.”

“Women and cats,” declared the young man, “are exactly alike.” “You're wrong, young man,” said the old ’un. “A woman can’t run up a telegraph pole and a cat can : t run up a millinery bill.” Bessie came running to her grandmother holding a dry, pressed leaf, obviously the relic of a day long gone by. “I found it in the big Bible, grandma,” she said. “Do you s’pose it belonged to Kve ?” Nell : “What would you give to have such hair as mine ?” Belle : “I don’t know—what did you give ?” “George has written a patriot? song to help the war.” “So I hear. Aren’t modern me;' ods of warfare horrible ?” When you look at some of ti couples that face the marriage alt:, you wonder why the male end of th sketch isn’t wearing the veil. If you want a man to take a dee lasting, and vital interest in yo ' affairs owe him £lO. 218‘,