ALLEGED HUMOUR. ADAMSON'S GOAT.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIII, Issue 4, 5 January 1907, Page 11

ALLEGED HUMOUR. ADAMSON'S GOAT.

(For the Post ) Hard times had come to Johnson's camp —and ."ood was scarce as rain — A not uncommon chance with folk who "fill 'em up again." With meat-box empty, tea all done, it j seemed a doleful hour — But in one corner of the bag. remained a j pound of flour ; So Johnson joyed him as in bunk he puffed his borrowed veed, And for his stomach's nourishment a clap- 1 jack feast decreed. It was the goit of Adamson that hopped him— smelling "loud" — And nosed him in > the flour-bag while Johnson blew his cloud ; He gathered in poor Johnson's dust with- • out the least to-do, And at the finish coughed him -twice to show the job was through; Then Johnson grabbed his tomahawk — and pantless and undone, Pursued with oaths and flying feet the goat of Adams*.i. The goat, likf many another thief, was humorous of mind : He townward loped, while -Johnson raved and followed fast behind. Sans trousers, fast he ran, and yelled him loud enough for ten, While women cried through fingers vide, "That Johnson man agen ! Delirium tremens ! Mercy mo ! Bill, Harry, Jim ! Come quick ! — But quicker far the goat sped ' by, and fdbter sped the brick. Mike Mullins' dog joined in the chase, and led a canine pack, I Which yapped appreciation of this comedy out-back ; The goat was bounding well ahead, and Johnson's legs were near — So Hover Mullins nipped them as he ambled in the rear : Then Johnson shrieked : "Boiled Emu Oil !" — and raising up a rock, He "outed" Rover Mullins with "a oner on the block." Mike Mullins marked the dying yell his canine gave; and so He smote poor Johnson forcibly an inch above his mo ; And as the pair danced round the road, on fistic strife intent, The comrades of the canine corpse their best endeavours lent, Till Constable O'Halloran, with calm official zest, Put Johnson where the- goats come not and beery folk find rest. Here is an unpoetic tale — for roguery goes free, While innocence is mulct in pounds for 1 rank indecency. Poetic justice &lill holds sway when poets do the writing; But when the Magistrate presides the tale is less delighting. For fines unpaid poor Johnson toils from dawn till day is done, While on rich jam-tin diet fares the goat of Adamson. Wellington. s" — G. P. Brown. a honeym6on recreation. There are those who make their profession their hobby. One of these is "the doyen of British judges," "the last of the Bairns," the Right Hon. Christopher Pallas, Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer of Ireland, the greatest master in the Kingdom of the common law. Among the many stories concerning him, this' one is probably apocryphal. Someone had mentioned Lucerne. '"Yes'," is alleged to have been tho Chief Baron's reflection, "I remember the place very well ; it was there that I first read Fearne on Contingent Remaindeis— on my honeymoon !" And though this is no doubt a legend, one can quite imagine him adopting the language of Baron Parke, who apologised for coming late to a dinner party on the ground that he really' could not tear himself away from a beautiful demurrer. "There's a man at the door, ma'am," began the maid. "I told you I was not at home to any more callers," said Mrs. M'Bkiff, who was entertaining several society women upon whom she dosired to make an impression. "But," the maid persisted, "this man says he ain't no caller ; he's a bill collector, an' he won't go away." When a* certain offender was brought before Judge Sherman in Indianopolis for sentence the clerk happened to be absent. The judge asked the policeman in charge of the prisoner what the offence was with which he was charged. "Bigotry, your Honour. He's been married to three women." "Officer 1" said the judge, "That's not bigotry. It's trigonometry." A simple-hearted ana ingenuous young German named Louis Schultz, living in Hoboken, became engaged after a brief acquaintance to a young maiden whose reputation as a coquette was well known. One of Louis's friends on meeting him one day said : "You don't mean to tell me that you are going to marry Minnie Blancke?" "Sure," replied Louis, "for vy not?" "Why, she's been engaged to every young man in Hoboken." "Veil," slowly answered Louis, "Hoboken ain't such a big place." A beautiful German peasant girl disembarked at New York the other day. She was tall and strong, blue-eyed and yellow-haired. She wanted to know at once if there were any letters for her. The postmaster at the pier, after getting her name, said, by way of a joke : "Is it a business or a lovo letter that you expept?" Tho girl faltered. "A business letter." "Well, there's nothing here," said the man, after looking over the assortment. The giri hesitated. Then, blushing as red as a rose, she said : "Would you mind just looking among the love letters, now, sir?" "Hello, Pat, what aro you doin'?" "Shure, an' 1 spind all my idle toime sawin' wood." A philosopher is a man who thinks he can get along without some woman to steer him. Johnny: What's silence, Freddy? Freddy : It's what you don't want to hear when you listen. Clerk; What kind of a hammock do you want, miss ? Summer Girl ; Oh, -a little one. Just about big enough ioi one — but — er— strong enough for two. Mr. Tiller r You see tho wind was so fierce that our yacht sail was torn to ribbons. Miss Lighthead : Ah ! I see — a sail of remnants ! She : Why do men go bald sooner than women, major? Major: Oh, because they don't wear their hair so long, I suppose. "What kind of tart will you have, Willie— plum or apple?" "I'll take two pieces of each, please. "Two pioces !" "Yes'm. Mamma told me not to ask twice." Jack (rapturously) : Now, darling, will you please namo the happy day? Minnio: Three weeks from Thursday, Jack. Norah (the kitchenmaid, through tho keyhole) : If you please, miss, that's my regular day out. Yo'll have to get married in the early part of the week. The following dialogue between coroner and witness lately occurred at an inquest : — What is you Christian name ? — x'ommela. I expect you mean Pamela. Where did you get it from? — Out of a novel. Father h.td mj many children that he didn't know whnt to have them named. Han short of names, eh? —

One of the young English princes, I examined on English history, was asked, "Who was Perkin Wafbeck?" His reply was: "Perkin Warbeckwas a pretender. He pretended he was the son of a. king ; but he wasn't. He was the son of respectable parents." Mrs. Greene : Miss Black and that Brown girl made themselves ridiculously prominent at the musicale last night. It was positively scandalous ! Mrs? 11 White : I'or mercy's sake, what did they do? Mrs. Greene: Do! They just sat there all tho evening listening to the music, and never passed a word between them. "Are you the man who told me that marmalade was a .good substitute for butter?" "Yes, mum!" "Well, let me tell you that you're wrong ! I tried to fry some fish in it, and they all got burnt to a cinder!" Old Farmer — "No, I don't want any more of your labour-saving machines. I've tried enough on 'em. Look in there. There's a typewriting machine the missus spent all her egg and butter money on to buy for me, 'cause I ain't so over handy with the pen. Just look at the swindle." Friend — "What's the matjter with it?" Old Farmer — "Matter ! Why you can't even write yer name with the blooming thing unless ye know how to play the pianner." Doubtful looking Individual at Door — "That lost dog you are advertising ■for, mum, I have brought it back.' Lady — "But that's not my dog; my dog was •black." Doubtful Individual — "The werry same dog, mum; but you see his hair has turned white with giief at being separated from you." The lady is satisfied, and hands him 10s reward. A certain noted politician, who has an enormously thick neck, when travelling one day found himself m need of a clean collar. He went into a shop and began a general survey of the collar display. "Being attended to, sir?" queried one of the shopmen. "Not yet," responded the tourist, and then added, "I would like a collar." "What size?" piped the shopman. "Size 20." "We don't keep collars so large, but I think you may oe accommodated three shops along the street." He went, and found the shop indicated. It was a harness shop. A young countryman, although very much*in love, was go diffident in proposing that the lady's prospects of matrimony began to look vague. One night, however, he plucked up courage to walk by her side in a secluded lane, and presently with a great effort, he slipped his arm round her waist. After a quarter of an hour's silence he enquired in a hesitating tone if bhe though he was making progress. "Well," replied the lady, "I don't know about making, progress ; but anyhow, you'ie holding your own."