HOTCH-POTCH

Hawera Star, Volume XLVIII, 7 March 1925, Page 13

HOTCH-POTCH

Young Alan (to court clerk) : “I—ah —er —uin —” . # Clerk (to assistant): “Henry, bring out one of those marriage license blanks.” Defeated Jockey: “Well, anyhow, .1 wasn’t last. There were two horses behind me.” Disgusted Supporter: “Gain. Them was the first two in the next race!” An explorer says that widows in New Guinea, cover themselves with pipeclay and mourn their husbands for a year. In, civilised countries most oi theni cover themselves with powder and go in search of another.

A barber reported to work two hours late. “What’s the big idea?” demanded the boss. “I’m sorry,’ replied the barber, “hub while I was shaving I talked myself into a. shampoo, haircut and masrage.”

Pearl : “Mamma, if I get married, will I have a husband like papa?” Mother: “Yes, dear.” Pearl: “An’ if I don’t marry, must I be an old maid like Aunt Jane?”

Alother: “Yes, dear.” Pearl : “Mamma, we women don’t get many chances in this world, do we ?”

“What is an Opportunist?” “One who meets the wolf at the door, and appears the next day in a fur coat.” “Have a cigar?” “No. thanks* —sworn off smoking.” “Well, put one in, your pocket for to-morrow.”

Artist: “I have decided to present my latest work to some charitable institution, Which do-you suggest ?“ Friend: “The Asylum for the Blind.” “I say, cook,” said five-year-old Marjorie, who was feeling hungry, “let’s play I’m an awful-looking tramp. I’ll ask you to give me a. nice piece of pie, ancl von get frightened and give it to me.”

Husband : “Telling lies is not one of my failings.” Wife: “No, dear, it’s one of your few successes.”

“I wish I could find a way to stop my wife from spending so milch on gloves.” “Buy her a diamond ring.”

“Did you notice that insolent conductor looking at you as if you hadn’t paid your fare?” “Ye®, and did you notice me looking at him as if I had?”

“Is this a .speedometer?” .die asked, as she tapped on. the glass, which covered that, instrument.

“Yes, dear,” I replied in a sweet, gentle voice. “Don’t they call this the dash light?” she queried, fingering the little nickel-plated illuminator. “Yes, honey,” my words floated out softly as before.

“Arid is this the cut-out ”, she inquired. “Yes, 'Poodles,” as I took my toot off the accelerator. Not more than 200 feet away our course was blocked by a fast moving train. “But what on earth is this funny looking pedal?” she said in a curious tone, as she gave the accelerator a. vigorous push with her dainty foot. ‘“Eiiis, sweetheart, is heaven.” I said m a soft, celestial voice;, as I picked up a gold harp and flew away.

Father (taking small boy to dentist): “Well, I’ve rung three times, and there doesn’t seem to be any answer.” Small Bov (hopefully) : “I wonder if he’s dead!”

His Wife: “A writer here explains why some husbands consider their wives angels.” / Her Brute: ”1 suppose it is because they are always harping on something.”

“I shall go to your father and ask his consent to-night darling. There are no grounds on whicn he can throw me out, dear, are there?” “Not in front of the house, dearest; but there’s a potato-patch at the back which looks nice and soft.”

A teacher, trying to impress on her pupils the rightness of kindness to all animals, took them for a walk to bring the Jesson home to them. Hearing a scream from little Johnny, she asked: “What’s the matter, Johnny?” “I’ve been sitting on a hornet,” was the tearful response, “and I’m afraid I’ve hurt the poor thing.”

“Ed’s buying an. automobile on the instalment plan.” ‘‘Yes, and if he doesn’t drive more carefully than lie has been doing, they’ll take him ‘to tlie hospital on the same plan.” .

“I once loved a girl that made a fool out of me.” “What a lasting impression some girls make!”

Mother: “Jimmie, what- would you like to give your cousin Tim for his birthday?” Jimmie: “I know; but I’m not big enough!”

“Here,” said the poet, “is a little thing I wrote in three minutes.” “Alan alive!” said the astonished editor, glancing at the poem. “AA 7 hy, your fortune’s made.” “Thanks,” said the poet, much gratified. “A r es,” continued the editor. ‘lt you wrote all that in three minutes, you can earn a good living at addressing envelopes by the hundred.”