HIS DEAR DESIRE.
Several of our local legislators and Labour leaders, states the Melbourne Leador,, r.ave given expression to their high appreciation of the Russian Bolsheviks, hoping that Heaven will see fit to give us Australians Bolshevism in our time. The paper then bursts into, verse on the subject— "I'd like to bo a Bolshevik," The kind reformer softly said; "And with all hasto to do the trick, Nor wait till ono is safely dead. To see tho revolution sped. I'd take an axe, and in a trico Set up my earthly paradise. "The Bolshevik means well, I know, If now and then ho cuts a throat . Those wretched folk will have it- so , Whose only weapon is the vote, And who to do all things by rote Would block tho universal mirth And blessedness of heaven on earth. "The Bolshevik holds to the creed— 'The world's goods to the world's good men,' And to that end those fools whose greed Has made them rich he seeks to pen Within a gaol, or slays them when Their need or their numeric force Makes homicide the wiser course. "At times we o|en may have to kill Our bosom friends if they should tend To other schemes. It's painful; still, Who would not gladly give a friend To further such a glorious end? And when we stab with keenest zest Be sure our motives are the best. "I'd be a Bolshevik, and view Tho red flames leaping in the breeze, And with a gun the whole day through Shoot down my personal enemies (All for my country, if you please), And keep as mine their riches then To benefit my fellow-men."
Ethel, aged four, had been to visit her cousins,-- two fun-loving boys. "Papa," she said, tho night of her -return home, "every night when John and, George say their prayers, they ask God to make them good boys." - ' "That's nice," said papa. Then, thinking soberly for a few minutes, Ethel added, "He ain't done it yet, though,."
The Adjutant (to prospective- orderly room clerk): Well, Blithers, you say you're good_ at figures. Now, if ■ there were four flies on the table, and I killed one, how many would there be left ?
Blithers: One, sir; the dead 'un.
A Cardiff woman joined a private literary circle. Her husband, who had no faith in feminine judgment on such matters, was anxious to know how things went.
"Well, and what sort of a meeting did you have?" he asked, on his wife's return.-
"Splendid!" she answered. _ "And what was the topio under discussion?"
"Oh," was the reply, "we discussed the antecedents of' that brazen woman with the dyed hair that's just moved in opposite the Joneses, and also one of the poets—Shelley, 1 think."
"Did anybody comment on the way you handled your new car?" , "One man, did, ' but he didn't say much." "What did he say 1" "AH he said was 'Five pounds and costs.' " .
Sam—By the way, Dave, did you know I wa3 a ventriloquist? Dave—No, it's the first I've heard of it. Let's hear you.
_ Sam —Right-ho; hear me. There's a' lion howling to his mate over in South Africa.
Dave (after a moment's pause)— Why, I never heard anything. ' Sam—No, of course not; it's over in South Africa.
A teller of tall stories; was spoakiDg of a proposed'fishing expedition. "Are there any trout out there?" asked one friend. "Thousahds of 'em," he replied. "Will they, bite easily?" asked another friend. -
"Will they?" he said. "Why they're absolutely vicious. _ A man has to hide behind a tree to bait a hook."
"Take a good look at this ladder, my boy." "What for?" . "And then remember that if;it were, possible to get to tho top at a singlo bound there would bo no need of the bottom rungs."
" In what direction does Sandgate lie, my frined?" "Well, sir, it's liable to lie in any direction that conies handy, but at this time of the year it's mostly about, fish." ' - -
Little Willie is the apple of his father's eye, and he deserves to be. A while ago a rough-looking individual came to the house where littlo Willie lives and grasped him by the collar "H you don't tell me where your father k6ops his money, I'll.knock yer 'cad orf yor shoulders, an' after that I'll eat yer " ' "Oh, please, don't do that, sir," whimpered Willie. "You'll find all the money we've.got in an old waistcoat in tho kitchen." '■ -
Two minutes later a bruised and battered wreck was heaved through the front door of little Willies dwelling-place, and sat for a while in the gutter and.blinked. "That kid's too smart—unnatural smart," it muttered. "Never said a word about '■is ole man, being inside that weskit."
Lady (engaging nurse)—" Have you had any experience -with children?" . ' Applicant—"Vis. mum. Shure, Oi used to be a child mcsilf."
Magistrate—You can take your choice— twenty-one shillings or ten days. Prisoner (still in a foggy condition) — I'll take the money, your worship.
Gaol Visitor—My friend, have you any religious convictions?
Prisoner—Well, I reckon that's the right word. I was 6ent, here for robbing, a church.
Colonel: "You blithering idiot! Instead of. addressing this' letter to 'The Intelligence Officer,' you've written 'Intelligent Officer/ There's no such person in the army!"
A widower had engraved on his wife's tombstone the words, "The light of my life has gone out." : A little later ho married again,, and ono Sunday ' was standing with No. 2 before his first wife's grave. Reading the above sentiment, tho lady inquired in a rather huffed tone, "Is that so?" "Yes;" replied he, "but ; I've struck another match."
"Did you go to the orchestral concert?" "Yes." "Enjoy it?" "No." "Why? I heard it was very good." "It may havo been tho best ever given for all I know." • ' "What was the matter?" "Two women who sat behind me kept up a constant chatter during the whole performance." "What did they talk about—the war." "No; they were, telling each other how much they loved music."
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Bibliographic details
Evening Post, Volume XCVII, Issue 56, 8 March 1919, Page 11
Word Count
1,006HIS DEAR DESIRE. Evening Post, Volume XCVII, Issue 56, 8 March 1919, Page 11
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