FUN AND FANCY.

Otago Witness, Issue 1651, 14 July 1883, Page 28

FUN AND FANCY.

—The official chiefly affected by her Majesty's command aa to not eating lamb this Reason is, of course, the Master of the Mint.-~ Punch. ~" Yes," eaid the level-headed school-boy, "I'm at the foot o' my classes, and I calculate to Btay there. Then I don't have to stand the wear and tear of anxiety for fear I'll lose my place. — Boston Post. —"What county do you represent, sir," asked one individual of another in front of a saloon in St. Paul, Minn., one day last week. "I'm not a member of the Legislature," was the reply. " I'm only a private citizen on the drunk." " " —"Yes," said the deacon, "the organist certainly did play opera bouffe airs and the can-can in his voluntary yesterday. But, dear me, I can't kick up a row about it withou giving myself away by showing that I recognise tke music." — Boston Post. —A Virginia calf vras found in the hay loft the other day, and the owner proves that the wind must have blown it up there because "there was noladdorway for it to climb up." The general opinion in the neighbourhood though is that the owner expected the tax assessor round that day, — Boston Post. —"Well," reraarke'd a young M.D. just " passed," " I suppose the next thing will be to hunt up a locality, and then wait for, something to do, like '• Patience on a monument." "Yes," said a friend, "and it won't be long after you do begin before the monuments will be on the patients." —The other day one of Atlanta's chronic ragpickere went into Swartz's junk" shop with a bag full of miscellaneous rags to sell. ' Swartz looked dubiously at the sack and then at the rag-picker, and then exclaimed, "Py, chiminygricky, vich shell I veigh— vat you got on, or vat you got off ?" — " Don't you remember me ?" " Can't Bay that I ever saw you before." " Why, don't you remember little Sammy Bambry who used to steal your peaches, and break your windows twenty years ago, right' here in Austin?" •" Why, certainly, I remember you now^ And I tanned your little hide for you when I caught you." " You bet you did. Ah, those happy days will never come again."— Texas Sittings. "Ma, what is a grass widow ?" asked a Harlem youth who had been reading in the papers about a person of that description. cf Why, my boy, I can't explain it exactly," replied the mother. " I'll bet I know, anyhow," sud the smart youngster. "Well, tell me." "A grass widow is a female woman whose husband died of hay fever," he exclaimed. Then be went out iv the kitchen and rubbed the cat's nose with red pepper. A woman author, writing on the strength of man's love, says, " I believe a man really feel the power of love more than a woman when b» does feel it at all." She is right. It is a verr common thing for love to induce a man, to fill his pocketß with chocolate caramels and other essential aids to courtship, and walk three miles out into the country on a night as dark as Erebus and as stormy as a partisan debate ; but instances in which the same power has impelled woman to act in, such a ridiculous maaner are as rare as honeßty in herse-racin^.