Wit and Humour.

Evening Post, Volume LIII, Issue 1, 2 January 1897, Page 2

Wit and Humour.

"Then why did you marry his Grace ?" she sighed wearily. " Oh, why," she rejoined, " does a woman buy anything she doesn't want? I don't know." Mrs. Mann (after dosing her husband) : " Oh, dear ! it says it should be well shaken, and I forgot all about it." Mr. Mann (an expert on the wheel): "That's all right. I'm going out for a ride, you know." Madame: "But, Alphonse, I shall get wet if I try to cross !" Alphonse : "True, ma cMrie, but you have nothing on that will spoil. Come — I have seen you brave the water — even in your bathing costume !" The Retort Trampean. — Miss Chilledame : ' ' Don't you know that nature rebels against laziness ? A man can get nothing in this world without labour." Wresting Offen : "Humph! Can't he P He can git hungry, I guess." " I see, now," said Mr. Bullard, " why they call the vestry the vestry." " Why is it?" asked Mrs. Bullard. "Why, the members of the vestry have to put their hands in tho pookets of their vests to pay up expenses." Ethel: "Mamma, what makes the lady dress all in black ?" Mamma: "Because she's a Sister of Charity, dear." Ethel : "Is Charity dead, then P" "I wish I was a girl," said Bobbie. " Why do you wish that ?" asked his father. " Oh, then I wouldn't have to bother about thinking what I'll be when I'm a man." " Papa, do men descend from monkeys ?" "Yea, my boy." "And what about the monkeys?" Puzzled Father : "The monkeys descend— aw— from the trees." More Feminine Amenities. — Ethel : "You've got yourself into a nice hole, Maudie. I wouldn't be in your shoes for anything." Maudie: "You couldn't be, dear !" Cooney Cohen : " Mem sohn, vy did you guarantee dot overooat to lasd Mr. Nixey as long as he lives?" Young Cohen: " Fader, he has heart disease— he dies any minute!" " I suppose you are fond of Shakspeare," said one legitimate actor to another. "Of course I am." " Then why in the name of humanity do you insist on acting his plays ?' ' " My dear," said Mr. Simple to his wife, " I dreamed last night that I was in heaven looking for you." " And did you find me dear ? lT " No. They told me you were at the bargain counter." " You say that Deacon Smatters was not at ohurch this morning? I wonder if it is possible that he can have fallen from grace?" "No ; I understand that he fell from his bicycle and broke his nose." She had just got home from the finishing sohool, and they were walking in the conservatory together. "Oh, tnammn," she exolaimed, "how pretty! What flower is that ?" "That's a hollyhock, dear. " " A hollyhook ? Why, mamma, I painted one at sohool, and it don't look like that !" Anything But That. — Mother : "Yes, dear, it was because your little friend has the fever they refused you admittance to him, but it was very kind and thoughtful 'of you to wish to see him." Son : " Twasn't that. I wanted to catoh it, so I needn't go back to school." • Thought He Was Buncoed.— Neighbour • " Why sakes alive, Leander, what yer goin' to do? — chop up that purty cheer?" Leander: "Waal, you kin jest bet I am. A fellow sold it to me fer a muwc-stool, an' I'vei been turnin' it for three hours, and can't git a note out of the darn thing." "Do we believe in miracles, Alonio? Well, when a man can sit down in a re«taurant and have trout, chicken, and venision steak served off the same old soup bone, we are ready to believe in any miracle we ever saw in print. Believe in miracles ! When a farmer can pui a quart of apples in a box that won't hold a pint oi' sand ; when almost any coal-dealer can make 17cwt. weigh a ton , wheu a shopman can measure a whole yard at one sweep with a 33in stick ; when soap-fat stalks abroad an Al cloverfed butter ; when you find a miraoulous draught of fishes in nky-blue milk ; when— do you believe in miracles, doubting Alonzo ? It is an age of miracles." Proceedings in the Melbourne Criminal Court:— "Mr. Fisher: Are you not a Jewess? Witness: I was born a Jewess. lam now a Protestant. Mr. Fisher : What were yon when you were christened at St. Patrick's Cathedral P-I was still a Jewess. I did it simply to please a dying woman. Mr. Fisher : What are you new P— l am now a Protestant." , "You are a pretty bright boy," saidthe new member to the page. " Yes,"said,the boy ; "lam not a page of ' Hansard ' you know." The Cabby's Christening. — Parson : "What shall we call it ?" Cabby (absentmindedly) : " Oh, I leave that entirely to you, sir !" Here is an interesting story of Professor Herkomer from the Home Messenger:—"The artist has an old father who lives with him in his splendid home at Bushey. In his early life he used to model in clay. He hat taken to it again, but his fear is that Boon his hands will lose their skill, and his work will show the marks of imperfection. It is his one sorrow. At night he goes to his early rest, and, when he has gone, Herkomer, the talented son, goes into the studio, takes up his father's feeble attempts, and makes the work as beautiful as art can make it. When the old man comes down in the morning he takes the work iand looks at it, and rubs his hands and says, ' Ha ! I can do as well as ever I did.' "