WIT AND HUMOUR

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1714, 4 January 1905, Page 89 (Supplement)

WIT AND HUMOUR

"Pa, what is persiflage ?” "Some newfangled vegetable. Ask the cook.”

Then, and Now —“He used to be quite a dude before he married her.” “H'm! Yes: and now he seems to be pretty well •übaued.”

She—“l used to know the name of the f>erson who invented croquet, but I have orgotten it.” He—“lt is easier to forget than to forgive.”

Justice—"Do you understand tko nature of an oath, ‘little girl?” Little Girl — ‘‘lt’B something you say when you hit your thumb when nail-driving.”

“And do you think,” he asked, “that men progress after death?” “Well,” she replied, “if they don't, it wotild seem useless for some of them to die.”

“Here's the devil to pay!” exclaimed the old man, coming in with a handful of bills. “Don't worry about hum,” said the wife. “He knows that you'll settle with him hereafter.”

Elderly Lady—“ All right, sir; I shall sue you for breach of promise.” Young Man—“ You'd better not attempt it. If you do, I'll bring an action for slander against you for saying I proposed to you.”

Minister —“So you don't think I practise what I teach, John?” Elder—» “well, considering that you have been preaching on the subject of resignation for the past thirty-seven years, I don't quite think you do.”

“You frightened my horse with your automobile,'' said the indignant farmer. “Well/’ answered the novice, ‘‘your horse had the best of it. He wasn't any more scared than I xvas, and had the advantage of being in a position to run.”

Young Wife (sobbing).—“l will not keep still! Before we were married you said I had a charming flow of language.” Young Husband: “And so you have, clear, It not only flpws, , but dashes, leaps, bounds, roars, goes over cataracts and mill sluices, and there' is an occasional waterspout as well.”

The train, as usual, crawled along—you know the line—and then stopped dead. “Guard,” shouted a jovial passenger, “may I get out and pick some flowers? 1 ” Afraid you won't find many aoout here,” said the guard, goodhumouredly. “Oh, there'll be heaps of time,” replied the jovial one; “I’ve brought a packet of seeds.”

air Scrapem,” said the hostess to an amateur violinist at an evening gathering, “you play the violin, do you not?” “Ye®, after a fashion, you know,” was the modest reply. “How nice 1” murmured half the company. “Did you bring your vioiin with you?” “No; 1 did not.” "How nice!” murmured the other half of the company in fervent unison. THE EATEI~OE THE LAMB, Mary had a little lamb With fleece as white as snow; The rest of all the tragedy Ter haps you may not know. It followed her to school one day, According to the book; Alas ! the school where Mary went They taught her how to cook! —“Lippincott's Magazine.” The Offending Cottage.—lt was a small theatre in a small town. The piece opened, with a village scene, at the conclusion of which the scene-shifter was puzzled how to let down a front cloth, as a cottage on the stage obstructed the descent. But the “leading gentleman” came to the rescue, and, walking boldly on, exclaimed —“It's a stormy night, and my poor humble cottage is sadly dilapidated; I must e'en take it in and repair it.” Suiting the action to the word, he walked off with the offending cottage. “She Takes the Cake.” —The “Isle of Man Examiner” has the courage to take frank exception to a simile in the first chapter of Mr Hall Caine's new novel, “The Prodigal Son.” Here is the passage:—“By this time the rumbling artillery from the next compartment oame into tne room in the person of an elderly lady In abbreviated underwear and small calico nightcap, with bobs of hair in papers about her forehead, like barnacles on the figurehead of a ship that is fresh from a long service in foreign waters. This is Aunt Margaret.” “Is it?” comments the “Examiner,” fearlessly. “Well, she takes the cake! Whoever heard of barnacles on a ship's figurehead before?”

The story of the first dinner at White House enjoyed by Sam Huston, the first Governor of Texas, is told by Sir Henry Seton-Karr, in "My Sporting Holidays”': —"For the first time in his life Huston tasted champagne, which proved much to his liking. Towards the end of the banquet olives were handed round, these being an article of diet also not contained in the new Governor's philosophy. He took an olive in his mouth, and, not liking the taste, promptly returned it to his plate. Just then the President looked down the table. 'How are you getting on, Governor Huston P' he remarked. There was a moment's silence as the distinguished assemblage looked with interested curiosity at this—to them—new specimen of manhood from a distant and then comparatively unknown part of the West. ‘Wal, President,' the new Governor calmly replied, 'I like your eider, but damn your pickles.' The number of stories extant now about olives is now large enough to fill a long list." "I heard yon congratulating Mr Scribbler on his short stories. What on earth do yon find in them to admire ?" "Their shortness." "Do you think Josh's invention will work?" asked Mrs Comtossel. "I hope so," answered her husband, rr L know right well that Joah won't*"

“Does your daughter play Mozart?” inquire,: ihe young man wAfi gold glasses. “I think sho does,” answered Mrs Newrich, affably; “but I imagine she prefers Bridge.”

Ida —"And they say Mabel’s father was forced to remain in the house while the wedding procession passed.” May—“ Yes; someone threw the only pair of shoes he owned at the bridal party.” Mr Meek, who has gone to the front door to answer the postman's knock, put his head inside the door of the room where his wife was sitting. “It’s a letter for me, dear/' he said, “shall I open it?” “They're nice looking horse® of yours; and they're very well matched, tod,” remarked a groom. “They are,” replied his companion. "One's willing to pull and the other's quite willing to let him.” “Oh, John,” exclaimed the proud mother, as her husband came wearily up the front steps, “baby is beginning to walk.” “Good!” ejaculated the midnight martyr. “Now he can do his own floorwalking at night.” “You’ll have to take off that awfullookiug mask/' said a busy policeman to a motorist; “it’s frightening everyone who sees it.” “Take off my mask,” exclaimed the motorist. “Why, I'm not wearing a mask.” “No!” said papa; “don't disturb me. You can't have it.” “Oh ! boo-hoo ! boohoo!” wailed the small boy. “Stop! Stop!” cried papa, distracted. “Now, then, if I let you play your drum -will you be quiet?” “Yes, sir.” “What does it cost a week to run an army like this?” asked the inquisitive war correspondent. “How do I know ?” said General Skedaddleski, frowning. “Why don't you ask the little devils that have been running us?” “So your youngest daughter is having her voice cultivated?” “Well/' answered Mr Cumrox, “that’s the way mother and the girls express it. But between you and me, I hired the professor in the hope of getting it cured.” Mr® Jones —“Here is a letter I want you to post, dear. It is to my milliner, countermanding an order for a hat.” Mr Jones —“Here, take this piece of cord and tie both my hands behind my back, so that I won't forget it!” He —“Often when I look up at the stars in the firmament I cannot help thinking how- small, how insignificant I am after all.” She'—“Gracious! Doesn't that thought ever strike you except when you look at the stars in the firmament?” Sprucing Up.—"Sey, there, Eritz I” called the proprietor of a certain railroad lunchroom. “Vass?” yawned a voice from the kitchen. “Train will be here ifi eight minutes —you’ve just got time to put a fresh coat of varnish on the fried, chicken 1” “Do you think there is anything remarkable in love at first sight?” asked a romantic youth. “Not at all,” replied, hie cynical friend. “It's when people have been, looking at each other for four or five years that it becomes remarkable.” Mother— f( You've been sitting in the Conservatory all this time, and with young Charlie Brown. Shall I never instil a sense of propriety into youP” Daughter—“lt was Lord Copper I was with, mamma, dear.” Mother—"Oh, thatrs a different matter—girls will be girla.” A Singular Plural—ln a little pamphlet called "Better Say/* Mr J. O. F®r-

nald recalls the dispute of two friends as to whether the word “news” was singular or plural. They telegraphed to Horace Greeley the question—“ Are there any news ?” Mr Greeley promptly replied—“ Not a new !” Still to be Caught—“ That advertisement o + ‘ yours was a fraud/' protested a guest at a mountain hotel. “How so?” demanded the proprietor. “Well, it said, 'Trout are always to be caught here,' and I haven't seen any one who has caught a single one.” “Well, then they're still to be caught, aren't they ?” Excited Passenger—“ls this my train, porter?” Porter (calmly)—“Well, sir, I don't think it is. According to the lettering it belongs to the Great Western Railway Company.” Excited Passenger '‘That is not what I mean. Can I take this train to Bristol ?” Porter —'You might ask the stationmaster to let you try, but the engine usually does it.” A New Breakfast Pood.—A little girl who was eating codfish for breakfast the other morning for the first time was seen to stop and examine the plate with deep interest. “Mamma/' she asked presentlv, “what kind of fish is this ? I've just found a hair in it/' “It is codfisfi, dear,” was the answer. “Oh,” ccmm’ented her daughter, in a disappointed tone, “I thought probably it was mermaiu." Two Irishmen went into an Episcopal church for the first time, and were shown into a pew near the door. While they were waiting for the service to begin, one of them picked up a prayerbook _ and after examining it for a short time, he turned to his friend. “Come, Pat. let's slip out of here while we can,” he said. “This is certainly no place for us —it's only for rich men. After every third prayer it says 'Collect!' ” Time Enough.—Joaquin Miller, the Californian poet, was visiting a friend whose tastes incline to the classical and the serious in literature. One day this gentleman found his venerable guest in the library, deeply absorbed in a book. “What are yon reading?” he asked. “A novel, by Bret Harte.” “I can't see said the fastidious gentleman, “how an immortal being can waste his time on such stuff.” “Are you quite sure,” said Miller, “that I am an immortal being?” “Why, of course you are!” “In that case,” returned the Californian grimly, “1 don't see why I should be so very economical of my time.”