QUIPS AND CRANKS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 932, 10 January 1890, Page 7

QUIPS AND CRANKS.

MRS MUSHROOM’S DISHES. _ Mrs Mushroom—Thom’s pretty dishes , what you’ve got, Mrs Lineage. Mrs Lineage—Yes, those are some specimens of our family china. They have been in our family for generations. You see each piece bears our family crest. Mr Mushroom—That’s very fine, ain’t it? But wait till you see the family china I’ve ordered. I’m going to have a different family crest on each plate. AMBIGUOUS. Mistress (wishing to see if her message had been correctly delivered) —What did you tell the ladieß, Bridget ? Bridget—l told ’em yez wasn’t feelin’ well and yez was goin’ to call on ’em soon, and they aez they was sorry to hear it ? The Brighton election.—lt is quite a toss up ? As the French say, * Peel ou face ?’ Mem. for the directors.—The Aquarium ought certainly not to be a place for ‘ loose fish.’ Filial Piety.—lngenuous Youth—May I have this dance ? The Bishop’s Daughter— Thanks —no ! I never dance round dances in my father’s diocese ! Happy Thought.—Why, my boy, you’ve spelt window without ann ! Don’t you know the difference between a window and a widow ? Yes, sir. You can see through one—and—and—you can’t see through the other, sir ! Well out of it.—Uncle—And yon love your enemies, Ethel ? Ethel (promptly)— Yeth, uncle. Uncle—and who are your enemies, dear ? Ethel in awful whisper) —The dev (The old gentleman doesn’t see his way further, and drops the subject ) A Very Long Drink.—Gilded Youth— D’you think there’s time for a drink, m’ girl ? Programme Girl—Plenty, sir. There’s an interval of eighteen years before the next scene takes place. Truely Literal.—l don’t wish for an elaborately detailed profit and loss acccunt, said the store manager to his accountant. What 1 want now is just the profit of the last half-year in round numbers. The olerk brought it thus—o 0 0! SAM WELLERISMS. This is not nice (a)table talk, as the young lady complained when the gentlemen devoted their conversation at dinner time to horsey subjects. I don’t like the book markers you use, as the librarian complained to the boy with dirty fingers. Gone to Blazes, as the fellow replied when somebody asked after a fireman who was on duty at a conflagration. , _ The lap of luxury, as the man said when he saw an old lady’s cat fed on cream. The alternative.—Tram—-Yes, mum, I was bit by a dorg last June. Old lady—Poor man ! And did you go to Paris ? Tramp r-*Bless yet kind ’art, no : I went on the Pariah.