THE CHESTNUT TREE

Manawatu Times, Volume LV, Issue 6864, 21 May 1932, Page 9

THE CHESTNUT TREE

Sandy's Complaint.—Sandy led his family up to the theatre pay office. “Will ye kindly refund me the money I paid for the amusement tax?” he asked. “Why, sir?” asked the clerk. “We wasna amused." « * A Long Time To Wait.—“ Well, sir, what do you think of my compositions?” the musician asked the critic. “Probably they will be played long after the masters are forgotteq,”' the critic replied. “Really.” “Yes; but not before," . * * * The Wrong Word.—The population of the village had gathered in force to watch the formal laying of the foundation-stone of the new library. After one or two of the councillors had made their speeches the foreman builder was called to the platform to say a few words. After clearing his throat, he commenced in the following manner:— “Ladies and gentlemen,—l’m not much of a speaker; in fact, I’m far more suited for the scaffold than for the platform,” i And he wondered why the crowd burst into roars of uncontrollable laughter.

Capital.— What is the capital of the Isle of Man? He: The money they get from the visitors. # * # That Explained It.—“l say,” shouted the indignant motorist to the policeman in the busy Loudon crossing, “when is the traffic going to move? I’ve been here fifteen minutes now.” “No wonder, sir,” responded the bobby with a broad smile, “you’ve drawn up behind a taxi rank." Just So!—“So you want to know where flies came from, Tommy. Well the cyclone makes the house-fly, the blacksmith makes the fire-fly, the carpenter makes the saw-fly, the driver makes the horse-fly, the grocer the sand-fly, and the lodger the butterfly.” « » * Too Much Alike.—Sounds of loud splutterings and the cries of a man in dire distress came from the direction of the boarder’s room. Mrs James, the thin-faced landlady, dashed into the room. "Whatever’s the matter, sir?” she asked. The boarder, who had a hand to his throat, pointed to a mug on the bed-table. “In future, Mrs James,” he said hoarsely, “bring my morning tea and shaving water separately.” “But why?” she asked. “So that I don’t get them mixed up again,” replied the boarder furiously.

Unlikely.—lt was the cold grey hours of early morning. The suburban house was wrapped in silence. Suddenly the telephone bell began to peal out. “Who the dickens is ringing me up at this infernal hour of the morning?’’ shouted the enraged householder, as he hurried from his bedroom to the stairs. Another bedroom door opened and his daughter looked out. “Oh, dad,” she cried, “it’s John, I expect. He told me he wouldn’t sleep until he found out if you’d let us get married. Please speak nicely to him, father.” * « * Trouble.—“Oh, I’ve —I’ve called," stammered the smartly-dressed youth, as the door was opened by a pleasant, smiling woman. “So I see,” she said. “Please come in.” “But —but,” said the youth, as he followed her into the drawing-rooom, “you don’t understand.” “Oh, yes, I do. A natural hesitancy on your part kept you from making my acquaintance.” "Pardon me, madam,” he broke in, “you’ve made a mis—• —” “Not at all. My daughter May has told me all about you. Her happiness ” “Madam,” he cried desperately. “I don’t know your daughter!” “What? Aren’t you May’s young man?” “No—l’m —I’m the .Tate collector, and I’ve called to—er—er—demand—er ” And then the trouble began.

- Poor Pa.-~“They say her wedding beggared description.” “Oh, more than that!" “Indeed.” “Yes; it beggared her father.” * * * t A Contingency.—He: If you refuse me I shall never love anyone else as long as I live. She: That’s all very well, but suppose I accept you, what then? Habit.—lrritated, she turned to her husband, “Fred, I wish you wouldn’t talk out of the corner of your mouth like that. It gets on my nerves.” “I can’t help it, dear,” countered the hen-pecked husband. “It’s through always trying to get a word in edgeways.” # * * The Difference.—The choir boy was applying for a position in the office of the local estate agent. “Have you any references?”„ asked the agent. “Yes, sir," said the boy. “Here’s two; one from the clergyman and from the choirmaster.” The estate agent read them through. “I’m afraid these are no good,” he said. “You see, I don’t want you on Sundays. You'll have to get references from somebody who knows you on week-days.”

Sore Problem.—“ Jack, you didn’t shave this evening.” “No, dear. I shaved this morning and it makes my face sore to shave twice a day.” “Well, it makes my face sore when you shave only once.” # ’X’ # An Easier Way.—Mark and Bill met on the way to work. “By the way, Mark,” said Bill thoughtfully, “where’s old Joe? Haven’t seen him for over a week.” “What! Ain’t yer ’eard about ’im?” returned Mark impressively. “|No. What’s happened?” inquired Bill eagerly. “Joe got three weeks for stealing a car,” he was informed. Bill sniffed. “Whatever did 'e want to steal a car for?” he asked. “Why didn’t ’e buy one and not pay for it like a gentleman?” Tit For Tat.—They were discussing Christmas presents. “Yes, Henry,” she said. “I've decided on my present to you.” “Tell me, what is it, my dear?” he asked eagerly. “I’ve decided to give you a gold manicure set, a lovely rose-bowl, and a hearth-rug,” she replied. His face fell. “What are you going to give me, dear?” she asked. “I thought,” he said rather curtly, “of giving you a new razor strop.”

The Optimist.—Old Sam, the farmer, had taken refuge on the roof of his house from the floods. Presently a boat, rowed by his nearest neighbour, hove in sight. “All your fowls were washed away this morning, Sam,” said the neighbour. “Yes,” said the farmer, “but the ducks can swim.” “Your apple-trees are gone, too,” said the neighbour. “Yes, but the crop was never worth anything,” returned Sam. "The water’s reached up to your bedroom windows,” said the neighbour. "That’s all right.” replied Sam, “they wanted washing.” TV" * Orders. Mrs Suburbs paced anxiously up and down the room. Presently shd looked at the clock on the mantelshelf. It was midnight. Her husband had not yet arrived home. “He’s at that club,” she murmured to herself. After a while she picked up the telephone receiver and called up the club. “Hallo,” she asked, “is my husband there?” She heard a deep sigh come over the wires. “No, ma’am,” said the voice of the steward, "he’s not here.” "But I haven’t told you who I am!” She snapped back. •» Again the deep sigh. “I know, ma’am,” said the steward, ■'but nobody’s husband ain’t evehere.”