IN LIGHTER VEIN

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXXI, Issue 4952, 6 February 1937, Page 7

IN LIGHTER VEIN

“Daddy,” said little Bobby, “what do they mean by the rising generation?" Before his father could answer his mother replied—“ Not the men who ride in buses.” Tommy: What is the difference between a statesman and a politician, dad? Dad: A statesman, Tommy, usually wants to do something for his country and a politician wants to do his country for something. “How long is a piece of string?” “Twice the distance between the centre and either end.” “How far can a dog run into the woods?” “A dog can run only half-way into the woods. After that he is running out of the woods.”

The Scots minister was leaving the parish. A farewell gathering was held and a suitable token of esteem was made.

The churchwarden, on making the presentation, said: “We have much pleasure in giving you a wee bit of momentum!”

Sue: What do you say to a tramp in the park? Daisy: I never speak to them.

Mistress: What’s wrong, May? You look worried. Maid: It’s that there baker, mum. ’E’s been an’ gone an’ never come!

“May I have some stationery? ’ he asked of the hotel clerk.

“Are you a guest of the house?” the clerk asked haughtily. “Well, hardly,” he answered. “I am paying £5 a day to live here.”

“But, Sandy, now that you are married, why not take your wife for a bit of a honeymoon?” Sandy: Nay, nay. I dinna hold wi’ galavantin’ about wi’a strange woman.

Old Tom had been at loggerheads with his brother for years, but, becoming ill, thought he would like a reconciliation. So he sent for him and made it up. “There’s just one thing, Jim,” he said, as the other was leaving. “Remember, if I dies, 'tis as 'tis, but if I lives, with the Lord’s mercy, ’tis as ’twas.”

“All our servants, except the par-lour-maid, have been stricken with the ’flu,” said Mrs. Browne to her husband. “What’s to be done?”

“H’m!” muttered hubby. “I’ll have to place all the time-tables in quarantine.”

“Why on earth that?” queried his wife. “Are you afraid she will catch something?” “Yes,” answered hubby, “the next train home.”

Wife (nastily): My family always said it was a bit of a come-down for me when I married you. Husband: Sure it was. Right off the top shelf.

Felix: How many sisters have you got, Willie? Willie: Three, and they are all grown up. Felix: And are they all single? Willie: No, only one; the other two are twins.

Little Tommy Jones was trudging along dejectedly in the grip of a policeman. In his arms be carried a football. There had been a window broken.

Several of his pals stood on the street corner. He decided to keep a stiff upper lip while passing them. “What did you do, Tommy?” asked his pals. “Nuthin’,” he replied. “They’ve just asked me to play for the police.”

“Many a wise word is spoken in jest.” “Yes, but they can’t compare with the number of foolish ones that are spoken in earnest.”

“They say your wife was the life of the party,” Jones remarked. “Yes,” Smith replied, “she was the only one who could talk louder than the radio.”

It was during a big ‘Sale,” and tempers were getting rather frayed. “If I were trying to match politeness,” said the woman customer, glaring hard at the assistant, “I'd have a big job to find it here.” The assistant was equal to the occasion. “Let me see your sample, madam,” she said. Farmer Hayseed was reprimanding his new hand for failing to get up at four o’clock in the morning. “The alarm didn’t ring,” explained the new hand. “I meant to tell you about that,” Hayseed replied. “Sometimes it gets stuck and won’t ring. But you’ve just got to shake it a bit and she’ll ring all right. Now, if she doesn’t ring by five minutes after four to-morrow morning, just you give her a ■hake."

- Two friends who had not met for a long time sat in a restaurant talking. “How is old Snaggs, the company promoter, getting on?” inquired one. “Oh, he’s not beep feeling very well lately,” was the reply. “He has to keep to a very strict diet —just a little of certain food.” “What’s wrong with him?” queried the other. “Indigestion? Insomnia?” “No. In prison.” “My poor fellow, you must be wet through,” said an old lady to a young man who, at the risk of his life, had managed to get her pet poodle out of the frozen lake. The dog had run on the ice and fallen through a hole some distance from the bank. “Yes, you must be drenched to the skin,” she continued. “Take these three peppermints —they’ll warm you up; and have these others before you go to bed tonight.” “I’m a son of the soil, I am,” shouted an orator from his stand. “Yes,” replied one of his audience, “and I see you’ve got your father left on your hands!” “Hard work never killed anybody,” said the father.

“That’s just the trouble, dad,” returned the son. “I want to engage in something that has the spice of danger in it.”

Two Irishmen met after a long separation. After various inquiries as to the fates of different mutual friends, one of them asked: “And what became of Patrick?” “Arrah, now,” answered the other, “poor Pat was condemned to be hanged, but he saved his life by dying in prison.”

For the third time in one afternoon Mrs. Gibbs found her new maid fast asleep in the kitchen rocking chair. “This it too bad, finding you asleep again, Bridget,” she said, shaking the girl vigorously. “When I engaged you you told me you were never tired.”

“No, ma’am, an’ I ain’t,” replied the maid; “but I should be if I didn’t sleep.”

At a local colliery a deputy and a collier were quarrelling, and the deputy said to the collier: “Don’t you know Rule 69? ‘A collier must obey a deputy’?” “No, I don’t,” said the collier, “but I know ‘Rule Britannia’ —‘Britons never shall be slaves.’ ”

They were waiting for one other person to complete the Christmas party. At last she arrived, breathless with her exertion to be in time.

After the usual apologies and seasonable greetings, she shook hands with her host and hostess and their little son; but the hostess said to the boy: “You’ll kiss Miss Vereker, won’t you, Jimmie?” Little James looked up into the face of the exceedingly pretty girl standing before him, then he turned to his father.

“No fear,” he replied. “I saw her slap you, daddy, for doing it.”

Throughout his sixty years of life Meanwump had never given anything away since, at the age of five, he had given his young brother the measles. But to-day was different. He had just recovered from a severe illness, and he strolled along in the cool evening air with a beautiful expression on his lined features. The memory of his sick days made something stir to life in the recesses of his forgotten heart.

In the darkness he nearly stumbled over a weeping child—a girl. “What’s the matter?” he inquired. “My sixpence! My bright new sixpence! I’ve dropped it!” Meanwump dived a hand into one of his pockets and handed something to the child. “There!” he said. “Take that! It will help you —to find it!” And he passed on, leaving the child staring at the match in her hand. Diner (at Cafe Paris): Waiter, bring me a knife for the butter. Waiter: Very good, sir. Diner: Oh, waiter! You might bring a revolver for the cheese!