WIT AND EUMOUR.

Evening Post, Volume XLIII, Issue 143, 18 June 1892, Page 2 (Supplement)

WIT AND EUMOUR.

Mr. Douglass, while walking in a graveyard, on seeing a stonemason adorning with a periwig an angel which he was carving, exclaimed, "In the name of wonder, who ev^r saw an angel with a wig ?" " And in the name of wonder, who ever saw an angel without one ?" replied the mason. An Irish girl at play on Sunday, being accosted by the priest with " Good morning, daughter of the evil one," meekly replied, "Good morning, father." "That's the bone of contention," as the husband remarked when he pointed to his wife's jaw. " I must pitch my tent," as the gipsy said when he found it beginning to leak. " Dress up in front," as the old soldier crossing-sweeper exclaimed when a lady was going over the road on a muddy day. " Mr. Thompson presents his compliments to Mr. Simpson, and begs to request that he will keep hib doggs from trespassing on his grounds." "Mr. Simpson presents his compliments to Mr. Thompson, and begs to suggest that in future he should not spell "dogs" with two gees." " Mr. Thompson's respects to Mr. Simpson, and will feel obliged if he will add the letter "c " to the last word in the note just received, so as to represent Mr. Simpson and lady." " Mr. Simpson returns Mr. Thompson's letter unopened, the impertinence it contains being only equalled by its vulgarity." Madam Eothschild, wife of one of the early members of the family — I believe Mr. Nathan. Eothschild — lived to be 98. On her deathbed, she said to her attendant, " Oh dear, doctor, can you do nothing for me ?" " Nothing, madam," he replied. "I cannot make you young again." "No," she persisted, "I do not want that, but I should like to live to grow old." Mamma (to cook) — And Mr. Stubbs, the cream with the apple tart yesterday ought to have been whipped. Ethel (who had a grateful remembrance of the dish in question) — Oh, mummy, dear, "ought to have been whipped ! I thought it was particularly good. " '" Oh, papa, only fifty pounds from Sir Gorgius Midas ! Such a millionaire — why, he ought to have sent five hundred pounds at least!" "Ah, I'm afraid he forgot the 1 ought ' my dear. " How happy could I be with ether," as the man sighed when the dentist pulled him round the room for the third time. " The exception proves the tule," as the fellow said when a friend^returned a borrowed umbrella. Tommy — Mr. Wilkinson, ain't you shaped just like other men ? Mr. Wilkinson — I suppose so, Tommy. Why? Tommy— Papa says you ain't exactly square, and Belle says you seem to be always ' round.' Fashionable tourist (wiping his forehead on the Alps as he suddenly turns round a rock)— ' Just to think of it! Here I've climbed 6000 feet up the side of this mountain only to meet face to face with one of my heaviest creditors. " Oh!" exclaimed Miss 8., " what a clever mau Mr. G. is ! He is really quite a physiognomist. I was telling him last evening that I had become quite proficient in painting, and he said, " I am sure of it, madam, your face shows it." Chorus — " Indeed !" He — Upon my word, I think I've gone through every experience except hanging. She — Oheer up ; that may come yet. A Yankee pedlar in his cart overtaking another, asked him what he was carrying. " Drugs," was the reply. "Go ahead," said the former. " I carry tombstones." The young melodramatist, telling the story of his new play to* the manager, said :—": — " As the robbers crawl in at the window the clock strikes one " " Good," Baid the manager, " which one ?" A witness in a recent trial, who had been cautioned to give a precise answer to every question put to him, was interrogated by a blustering counsel as follows : — " You drive a waggon?" "No, sir, Ido not." " Why, did you not tell my learned friend so just this moment ?" " No, sir." " Now, I put it to you on your oath. No prevarication, mind. Do you drive a waggon ?" " No, sir." " Then, in heaven's name, what is your occupation ?" " I drive a horse." Laughter, in which all save the blustering counsel join. " You love my daughter ?" ejaculated the old man. " Love her!" he exclaimed, passionately; "why, sir, I would die for her. For one soft glance from those sweet eyes I would hurl myself from yonder cliff and perish upon the rocks two hundred feet below." The old man shook his head. " I'm something of a liar myself," he remarked, "and one is enough for a small family like mine." Encouraging. — He — ' I like the picture with glass on best." She — " Why ?" He — " Because I can see your face in 'em." "Papa," said ,a beautiful girl, as the old gentleman came in late, V did you notice the dead body of awoung man in the yard ?" " Why, no,; what's the matter ?" " I refused young Mr. Paperwate to-night, and from the hopeless, despairing look upon his face when he staggered from the house I fear he may have killed himself." "Well, lam glad you refused him," said the old man spitefully ; "he has just beaten j me five level games of billiards." Collector — "Won't you suscribe something to our fund, Mr. Brief ?" Lawyer — " Have you asked Bronson ?" Collector—" No." Lawyer " Well, I'd advise you^to ask Bronson. He'll give you something handsome." Collector — "But your su«>cription ?" Lawyer — " Oh — I ? Uh, yes. Well, I won't charge you anything for my advice about Bronson. Good morning."

Professor Crouch, author of " Kathken Mavourneeu," is dying at Baltimore.