THE CHESTNUT TREE

Evening Star, Issue 20985, 26 December 1931, Page 7

THE CHESTNUT TREE

Disguise 'em.—Visitor: Can I have a boiled egg? Landlord of wayside Inn: No, but you can have an omelette—the eggs ain’t fresh enoujh to boil. * * * Not Overworked. —Kind lady (to aged beggar): And what was your last employment? Beggar: Messenger boy, missus. * * * Complications May Arise.— Mother: The first quarrel is the key to married life. Whatever you do, don’t give In. Newly-married daughter: I won t, mother. But suppose somebody has given Charles the same advice? # # How Exorbitant. —Mistress (pointing to an old master): You must take care of the pictures. That small picture of a beggar cost £2OOO. New Maid: Lor’, ma’am, my mother got one of the Royal Family for sixpence A Printer’s Error.—Editor of illustrated paper (to “sub.”); There’s just a chance, of course, that she’ll be frightfully pleased—otherwise there’ll be the devil to pay. Good heavens. Look at it. “Lady de Wrexln—a Pioneer of Fashion.” « * * Painful Thrills— Philosophical lover (forcefully ejected once more): Well, there’s one thing about it. Every time I see that girl I get a kick out of it. * # * Rather Grubby.—When asked to sing at the party Jones excused himself to the hostess. “Y’know, my singing is pretty poor. The only time I ever sing Is while I’m having a bath." She answered him very sympathetically. “I understand, Mr Jones. I’ll tell you what I'll do, though. I will say to the guests that you are very much out of practice."

A Little Involved. —Two Irishmen had been having a great argument. “The sooner I never see your lace again,” said one, "the better It will be for both of us when we meet.” A Waste of Time.—Maid: The master do write a lot, mum. Mistress: Yes, Susan, he’s writing a novel. Maid: Lor, mum, fancy ’im going to all that trouble when 'e could buy one for sixpence. * f * Amends in the Future.—Mother: I don’t think you did right In marrying again so soon after your husband’s death. Daughter: I’ll wait longer next time, mother. . • * * Fairy Chariot.—Hotel garage man (to fusser about midget car): All right, sir, all right! I'll see that it’s refilled and washed and polished, and if you like I’ll have it left outside your bedroom door with your boots in the morning. Roundabout. —A famous globe-trot-ter says his chief difficulty is finding new, unexplored regions to traverse. He should try motoring on Sunday afternoon with a friend who knows all the short cuts. * * * . .. Arnp j e ._The very thin man and the very fat one had been having an argument, and had descended to personalities. .. "From the look of you, said tne fat one, “there, might have been a famine,” „ . "Yes,” came the retort, and one look at you would convince anyone that you had caused it.” * “ * 7 7 7 ? ?.—She had just accepted him. and they were blissfully discussing the “might have beens.” “Darling,” he inquired, as they gazed from the shore at .the pier, in the confident tone of one who knows what the answer will be, “why didn’t vou accept that little donkey Jones?” “Because," she answered dreamily, “I loved another." # Skinned.—The gold-digger (at the end of the fortnight): And I suppose directly you get back to (own you 11 be taking other girls about. Youth (who has been counting hjs money): What hopes. * * * Awful stuff.—“ Drink.” said the Irish preacher, “is the greatest curse of the country. It makes ye quarrel with yer neighbours. It makes ye shoot at your landlord. And it makes ye miss him.” *« v * Done to a Turn.—A new system of memory training was being taught in a village school, anil the teacher was becoming enthusiastic. “For instance,” lie said, “supposing you want to remember the name of a poet—Bobby Burns. Fix in your mind’s eye a picture of a policeman in flames. See —Bobby Burns. * “Yes, I see,” said a bright pupil. “But how is anyone to know that it does not represent Robert Browning?”

Exit Handy.—Master: If the National Gallery were on lire, which five pictures would you attempt to rescue* Pupil: The five nearest the door. Interesting—Diner: Walter. There’* a strange-looking fly in my soup. Waiter: Yes, sir. Shall I take it over to that gentleman? He looks like a naturalist. Very Awkward.—“l don’t know what to do with our boy. My wife wants him to be an admiral, - I want him in my business, and he insists on becoming an airman.” “How old is he?” “He will be four in August.” * « * Dry Humour.—American visitor: Say, this isn’t half as exciting as our American game. Fair companion: I've heard of It. You c9.1l it bootlegging or something, don’t you? * * * Selling Up.—“ Well, old man, what are you doing these days?” “I’m selling furniture.” ■ “Are you selling much?” “Only my own, so far.” * * * Other Pebbles on the Beach.— “Wo don’t print any such stuff as that,” said the editor of the Comic Rag loftily, as he handed back the poem. “Well, you needn’t be so haughty about it!” retorted the poet. “You’ra not the only one who won’t print It I” * * * So That was the Trouble.—An amateur angler who was not up to the tricks of the game bad been whipping the water without success for an hour or so when the owner marched up. “Are you aware,” said the newcomer, menacingly, “that this Is preserved water?” “Is it?” said the angler. “I thought there was something funny about It.

All Square,—Mother: Willie, you have been very naughty, after promising to obey me. Willie: Well, that’s nothing. You promised to obey dad. **> * . Danger Ahead.—Two tramps met close to a village. “What are you doing here?” asked one. "Looking for work,” was the reply. , “Then turn about at once; there's plenty to be had.” * * * Marking Time.—Old clerk (proposing a toast to the heroine of the day): We enjoy the high privilege of celebrating to-day/as we do every year, the 29th birthday of the respected daughter of our esteemed employer. Here’s to her health. Nocturnal Pilfering.—“My husband has no idea what I go through when he snores.” “Mine never misses his small change either.” ' * * * ■ He Knew Better.—“So you’re a salesman now, eh, Sambo? Do you stand behind the products you sell?” “No, sah, I don’t,” “Why, Sam. I’m surprised at you. You should always stand behind your product. What are you selling?” “Mules." * * * Sympathy From the Bench.—“ Well, what is your excuse for speeding BO miles an hour?” George: I had just heard, your Honour, that the ladles of my wife's church were giving an old clothes sale,' and I was hurrying home to save my old pair of pants. “Case dismissed.” Match-making.—The physician was giving an informal talk on physiology. “Also,” he remarked, “it has recently been found that the human body contains sulphur.” “Sulphur!” remarked the girl In the blue and white blazer, "And how much sulphur Is there, then. In a girl’s body?” “Oh, the amount varies,” said the doctor, “according to the girl.” "Ah!” returned the girl. “And is that why some of us make better matches than others?” *, * * Swept Off Their Feet.—lt was the night of the grand concert, and approaching the hour at which It had been advertised to start. The promoter had hired a big hall, and expected to make a fine profit At 7 o’clock the money-takers, ticket-takers, and stewards were assembled. “Money-takers all ready?” asked the promoter. “Yes “Ticket-takers all ready?” “Yes, sir.” “Stewards, stand by the door!” “Right, sir.” "Now open the doors.” The iron doors crashed open. Two small boys entered. "Please, mister,” said a tiny voice, "can we both come In with this free pass?”-