BETWEEN WHILES

Hokitika Guardian, 7 June 1930, Page 8

BETWEEN WHILES

WELL INFORMED

An Irish labourer and his wife were spending a day in Belfast seeing the sights.

Looking at the sales, the wife, on seeing • some waterpoof gloves, said: “For what use :’t all could they be?” “Don’t let anyone hear ye ask that. Them is for washing the hands without wetting yer skin.”

THE BACKSLIDER. “Rastas, how is it you have given up going to church?” asked Pastor Brown. “Well, sah,” replied Rastus, “it’s dis way. I like to take an active part an’ 1 used to pass de collection basket but dey’s give de job to Brothah Green who returned from the war.” In recognition of i'llis heroic (.service, I suppose?” “No. sah. I reckon he got dat job in reco’notion of his having lost one of his hands.”

AFTER HIS OWN ART

Swann was a good salesman and a poor artist.

“Yes” he said, when a ricli, client called at his studio, “a man in New Vo’ k offered me £270 for that picture.” The client looked at the painting with the eye of an expert. “I wouldn’t offer more than £25 for that,” he said.

“Sold!” cried Swann eagerly.” We can’t have all our finest paintings go out of the country !”

STB ETCHED. The customer complained of the cost of shaving. “Yes, but have you considered the extra labour involved sir?” asked the barber. “What extra labour?” snapped the Tritated customer. “Well, sir,” replied the barber, “what with .bad weather and the in-come-tar falling due, men’s faces are considerably longer than they were.”

QUITE LIKELY. “You’re a swindler, sir!” exclaimed Mrs Gabby, as she entered the bird ’■op. “You’re worse than a highway robber. You ought to bo ashamed of yourself to cheat a poor woman the way you did. The parrot I bought/ from you is a fraud. Y'ou said it was a good talker and you charged a big price for it, and it hasn’t said one word since T got it—not a single word. Do you hear me? Not one word!”

“Perhaps,” said the shopman, “you didn’t give it a chance.!”

A “CELL” FOR HER. The editor of an obscure local paper was surprised by a stout and angry lady, who came bursting into bis office. She was waing a copy of his paper and her face was purple with rage. “What ever is wrong?” asked the editor. “Why this scene?” “I’ll sue you all!” shrieked the lady. “Last week I sang in a concert given V the poor convicts in the local gaol and 1 was greatly applauded. Your fool of a reporter lias published that T sang a song and was clapped in prison!”