IN LIGHTER VEIN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume XVIII, Issue 1895, 1 December 1923, Page 3

IN LIGHTER VEIN.

Aberdonian: Hoo did I like London?. Grand! Yon’s the place for me. Every time ye go into a resturant ye find tuppence under yer plate! ***** She: I’d rather dance than eat, wouldn’t you? He: Well, I think I eat beet. ***** Proud Mother: Oh, John, the baby can walk! Cruel Father: Good. He can walk the floor with himself at night, then. ***** George: Do you think that your father will oonsent to our marriage, darling? Ethel: Oh', yes! He has always humoured my silliest wishes. ***** Jones: What do you think of a man who has to use a safety-pin to connect his trousers with his suspenders? Brown: He should either get married or get a divorce. ***** Miss Ever Tardy: Really, Mrs Sharp, I was almost ashamed to come, it is so shockingly late. Mrs Sharp: Not at all, Mrs Tardy; you could never come too late. ***** A trade journal admits that motors are far too noisy nowadays. I suppose the idea is that a noisy motor gives the pedestrian far too good a chance of getting away. ***** Waiter (yelling down the kitchen tube): Hey, Alphonse, make that chop a steak. Alphonse: Sacre! Vot you ’tink? I’m a chef; not a magician. ***** “So you’ve taken to carrying around a monkey! This is going too far!’’ “Well, you never go anywhere with me,” was his wife’s double-edged retort. ***** Jones: “You say she is proud?” Jenkins: “Proud? Why that woman wouldn’t read a serial story because she would have to buy it on the instalment plan!” ***** Mistress: “Mary! Do you know that I could write my name on the dust on the piano ” Mary (rapturously) : “Oli, ma’am, ain’t it nice to be ecldicated!”

“I have only one request to make,” groaned the college man who had come to participate in the harvest. “What is that, Mr Smart?” returned the farmer. “Please let me stay in bed long enough for the lamp chimney to cool off.” ***** He: So you’ve had a month’s holiday? She: Well—three weeks—and a week with my husband’s people. # # W * * Frank Lockwood, a distinguished lawyer and a politician, was another wit. “There was a good story told about Lockwood and how lie tried to teach behaviour to a. fellow-passenger. He was travelling in a first-class smoking compartment, smoking a pipe. There were two strangers in the carriage, smoking cigars. One of them, in an offensively loud voice, said to his friend, ‘What bad form it is for a man to smoke a pipe in a first-class compartment.’ Lockwood said nothing at the time, but when he had finished his pipe he knocked out the ashes, and, turning to the speaker lie said, ‘That remark of yours, sir, bears only one interpretation—that you intend to offer me a cigar.’ The stranger, very much taken aback, produced his cigar case and handed it to Lockwood, who examined each cigar, holding it to his ear and cracking it; then, after smelling the case, he handed it back to its owner, saying: ‘Thank you, sir; I prefer my pipe.’ ” ***** The farmer’s pink-cheeked daughter was coming up the lane. She was clad in a grimy pair of overalls, from tho pockets of which bulged huge bunches of waste and sundry wrenches and pliers. In her hand was a. dirty satchel rattling with an assortment of iron tools.” “Where are you going, my pretty maid” I asked. “I’m going a-milking, sir,” she said. “But why the tools?” “Trouble,” she said, “with that darned old milking machine again.”

Here is a story from the West oi England as told by one of the banks. A lady customer called at the bank and cashed a cheque on her own account. Shortly afterwards she came back and asked to see the manager. She explained l that she had unfortunately lost the money somewhere in the town, and would the manager kindly stop' payment of her cheque? * * * * * “Take back your ring!” The man cringed, and made a gesture of supplication, but the woman’s cruel voice went on, “Take back your ring and never let me see it any more!” Again the man made as if to speakj. again he was silenced by a haughty wave of the hand. “Take back your ring, I say; and if you can’t give me as good a one as Mrs Johnson’s, I’ll complain to the manager.” And with that the annnoyed young housewife flounced out of the gas company’s office. * * * * * Nancy, aged seven, is lunching with her mother in a restaurant. Mother, (helping herself to sauce): “You won’t like this, dear, it’s parsley sauce.” Nancy: “Oh! let me have some, mummy, I know I should like it.” Mother: “Why, you haven’t tasted it.” Nancy: “No, but I’ve read about it in the Bible.” Mother (surprised) : “Where?” Nancy: “I’ve been reading about the man who was ‘sick of the parsley,’ and I want it.” K' * * * * A eityAnan called upon another, and after a gdauce round the establishment, inquired: “How’s your new office boy getting along?” “Fine!” was the reply. “He’s got things so mixed up that I couldn’t get along without him!”