WIT AND HUMOUR.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1533, 18 July 1901, Page 62

WIT AND HUMOUR.

Mother—'‘Marjorie, have you seen papa anywhere ?” Marjorie “Yes, mamma; his bicycle is out of breff, and he's just giving it some more.” “They say 3©iy face is a dream!” ex» claimed the girl who wished to go on the stage, “ifes,” replied the candid friend; “fades away each night, eh?” Irate Wife—“ What do you mean by coming home at this time in the morning?” Inebriated Husband —“’Tain't my fault, m’dear. They’d all gone; didn’t hare anyone to talk to!" “Are you papa’s boy?” “Yes, sir.” v< And are you mamma’s boy?” “Yes, sir.” “But how can you be papa's and mamma’s atl?the same time ?” After a pause—“ Can’t a nice carriage have two hor%es?” First Reporter—“l’ve begun this political statement by saying that it is on the authority of a person of the first importance.” Second Reporter—- “ Why not give his name?” First Reporter—“l’m too modest.” \ Miss Grimm—“ All right, sir; I shall sue you for breach of promise.” Fenton —“You'd better not attempt it. If you do, I’ll bring an action for slander against you for saying I proposed to you.” Waggs—“Have you heard of Snipe, the tailor ? Most extraordinary way of doing business; if you don’t pay for a suit for six months, he gives you another ” Jaggs—'‘Oh, what suit?” Waggs—“A law-suit.” “And, madam,” said the professor, “how did you come to get into the'new journalism?” “Well,” she replied, “I poisoned my husband and five children, and was acquitted on the insanity plea, after which I wrote up a three-page story about it, mostly exclusive. It was a great piece of work, I assure you.” Father—“ What did you think of the great bicycle race?” Little Son—“ Didn’t think much of it,” Father “Everybody said it was wonderful.” Little Son —• r T didn’t see nothin’ wonderful about it. The one that winned couldn’t help winnin’. He leaned over so far forward that he had to go like lightnin’ to keep from failin’ on his face.'’ Farmer (discovering tramp asleep on his hay in the middle of the afternoon) —“Hi! what are you doing there?” Tramp (waking up with a start) —“Oh, I’m only ’avin’ a little snooze guv'nor.” ' Farmer—“ Snooze, at this time o’ day! Get out, you lazy, loafing scamp! This isn’t a church!” Mr Tapps—“This is a very nice pudding, dear.” Mrs Tapps—“l’m glad you like it.” “There’s only one thing .” “Oh! it wouldn’t be you if you did not find fault with it; I can never do any* thing that’s right.” “It’s not .” 'Til never make another, there.” “It’s not big enough.” “Oh, you darling man.” It is related of Mr Swinburne that once, at the Arts Club, seeking in vain to find a room that was not filled with smokers, he delivered himself aloud as follows:—“James the First was a knave, a tyrant, a fool, a liar, a coward ; but I love him, because he slit the throat of that blackguard Raleigh, who invented this filthy habit of smoking.” The Countess—“Oh, Baron, I must beg you to give me your photograph!” The Baron—“ Madam, you make me the happiest of men!” The Countess (after the Baron had gone)—“Here, Anna, hang this picture in your room, and notice well the face. Whenever the gentleman calls tell him I’m not at home. I can’t tolerate the fellow.” Her Irate Parent (to youth who has tarried late of an evening—“ Young man, do you know it is past 11 o’clock?” The Tarrying Youth—“ Yes, sir, hut she has been sitting on my hat for the past two hours, and I didn’t want to tell her.” Irate Parent—“ Then, hereafter, don’t keep your hat on your lap. Hang it <*n the peg in the hall.” In Sumatra, if a woman is left a widow, immediately after her husband’s death she plants a flagstaff at her door, upon which a flag is raised. So long as the flag remains untom by the wind the etiquette of Sumatra forbids her to marry, but at the first rent, however tiny, she can lay aside her weeds and accept the first offer she has. Tragedian—-'‘Come along, Rosalind! If you don’t hurry up we shall lose that train!” Tragedienne (in a flutter) —“But I must have my diamonds and my purse. I oan’t find them anywhere. Oh, what if I’ve been robbed 1" Tragedian (impatiently)—“Well, never mind. Come along!” Tragedienne—“ But there’s a threepenny bit in the purse!” Lady (at tho registry office) —“But E

shouldn’t care to with a baby. She’s too small for a nurse.” Manageress—“ Her size, madam, wo look upou as her greatest recommendation.” Lady—“lndeed! But she is do very small.” Manageress—“ Yes, but that is an advantage, in my opinion. You see that when she drops the baby it hasn’t very far to fall ” Little four-year-old Willie had be m told repeatedly that he must never ask for anything at the table, but should wait patiently until he was served. One day, while dining at a neighbour's with his mother, the little fellow was accidentally overlooked. Patience finally ceased to be a virtue, and in an audibl e . whisper he said —“Mamma, do little boys go to Heaven when they starve to death ?’’ The following story is told of an undergraduate of Durham University who had “failed” repeatedly. At this particular exam. itVas noticed that he was by no means comfortable with his Latin paper. Presently he leaned over to his neighbour, and whispered in desperate earnestness —“Fheaven’s sake give me the imperfect subjective of ‘fero;' I’ve a wife and three children.” It was not on© of those lovers’ quarrels which are got up for the sake of enjoying the sweets of “making it up again,” but a real genuine affair, in which both parties felt thoroughly aggrieved. They parted in anger, and next day the lady wrote him the following note : —“Herewith I return all your presents, with the exception of the diamond ring, which I shall keep to remind me of your meanness and horrid conduct.” The late Bishop Stubbs for all his learning was a keen humourist. On one occasion while officiating at the restoration of a Buckinghamshire church he was seen to hesitate before descending the altar steps. The clergyman who was assisting told the Bishop after the service that he was on the point of coming forward to help him, as he thought perhaps his hesitation was due to failing eyesight. “Not at all, not at ail,

thank you,” replied the Bishop,“merely a matter of sex, you know. “Though I have been a bishop twenty years, I have not yet learned tO’ manage my skirts properly.”