HOTCH-POTCH

Hawera Star, Volume XLVIII, 10 January 1925, Page 16

HOTCH-POTCH

'•What are you crying for?” “Because -Nina won’t play with me.” ”\vhy won't she play with your-” Because I’m crying.” Sue (flushing). —”1 know, Alfred, i have my faults.” lie. —“Oh, certainly.” ‘ She (angrily).—”ind«.-<i! Perhaps you’ll tell me what tiiey are!-'” “That youngest boy of yours does not seem to do jo.i credit, Uncle Ato.se.” remarked too minister to one of Iris negro parisliloners. “No sail, no sail,” replied the old man. sorrowfully. ‘‘He is the wurstest- chile i ever luid. He is nngnty bad. Fact, he's de white sheep ol'de fam’ly, sah.” A voung knut strolled up and down the road,, ay waiting for his lady love. Getting tired, i.e leaned against some railings, but discovered to his horror chat are paint was wet. Further uewn the road *he espied the painter still at his job. Going up to him. he said indignantly, “You idiot, Why didn’t you put ‘wet paint’ on these railings? The painter, after looking him up and down, said slowly*, ‘‘Ain’t I doing that, you idiot?”

Doris. —When Tom proposed to me three years ago I refused him, and lie said it would be the death of him. Maud. —Well, that is not so, for he proposed to me last night, and X accepted him. Doris.—he must have meant a living death.

‘‘Gerald, what train does the man next door catch for town?” “The one after mine.” “If he-catches the train after vours, how do you know what train he catches?” “Because that's the one I catch.”

“The last time I was in camp,” said Private Jimson, “the temperature on three successive nights dropped to Kero.” “That’s nothing.” said an old soldier; “that’s nothing.” “What’s nothing?” asked Jimson, indignantly. “Zero!” replied the old soldier, as he made for the door.

Mistress.—What? Want to leave tonight, Sarah, and you only came this morning? Maid. —Well, you see, you e the thirteenth missus I’ve ’ad this year, and you’re unlucky. Mistress. —Why, then,' did you come? Maid. —Cause I ’ad to ’ave a thirteenth. I leave tonight, mum!

Two young women artists in Spain arrived at a country inn, hot, duSfcy,and thirsty. They couldn’t talk Spanish. but wanted some milk badly, so one of them dielv a most beautiful cow, while the other jingled some coins. The Spaniards looked, and a boy was sent oif post-haste. In half an hour the boy returned, hot and triumphant—with two tickets for a bull fight!

Jones was very absent-minded. One day lie was invited to go and play tennis at the club.,. He got ready m rather a hurry. As he dashed down the hall, he snatched up some balls and put them m his bag. When he arrived at the club he thought the hag felt verv heavy, so he looked in it. ‘'Confound it!’’’ said Jones. “I’ve brought the potatoes! Now, if Mary’s boiled the tennis balls, I’m done!”

After years of endeavour the inventor made a success, and came hurrying home with pockets bulging with money. He joyously strewed bank notes in his wife’s lap, crying, “Now, at last, iny dear, you will be able to buy some decent clothes.” “I’ll do nothing of the kind.” was the sharp retort; I’ll • ret the kind the other women are wearing.”

Little Willie had ‘been deeply immersed in “Treasure Island’’ when his mother; remorselessly dragged hail off to bed and made him say his prayers. .... Give us this day our”daily bread,” repeated Willie dutifully. and then somewhat surprisingly added, . . Yo.lio lio, and a bottle of rum.” / She (after spending the evening with neighbours): “I think the Smithes are an ideal couple —they think alike about everything.” He: ‘‘Yes; but I notice she always thiiiks first.’’ “Do you keep any servants?” “No of course not.” “But I thought 1 saw one in your kitchen?” “Oh, we have servants on the premises a day or two at a time; but w*e don’t keep them.

A Scotch workman was slipping out of the garage during hours to “Wet his whistle,” when he ran into the boss. “Hello!” said the latter, pleasantly, “were you looking for me?” “Ay,” replied Sandy, “I wis looking for ye, but, I dinna want tae find ye.”