FUN AND FANCY.

Otago Witness, Issue 3338, 6 March 1918, Page 48

FUN AND FANCY.

"Did you not call for help when he kissed you, dear?" questioned the prim aunt. "No. lie didn t need any." Bociety ways." "How now?" "1 found her in the kitchen to-day cooking tripe and stirring it with her lorgnette." , Miss Plain: "Now, get as pretty a picture of me as you possibly can." Photographer: "Never fear, ma'am, when this is touched up you won't .-know yourself.' Outhbert: "Would you scream if I kissed you?" Stella: "Do you flatter yourself that I would be speechless with joy?" . "The man i recommend to you is a person of unflagging industry." "Me won't do. We want somebody to stop trains." —' Why didn't you invite young Jones to your wedding?" "He's just month's practice in camp throwing hand-grenades?" "Did the panto, have a happy ending?" '"lt might have been worse. My wife only forgot her handkerchief and one glove." ' — "Pa, Fanny says she wants to see the seamy side of life." "Then tell Fanny to set right to work and help her ina with the family sewing." She: "Why does that piano sound first high and then low when Miss Wilson plays it?" He: "Well, you see, she is learning to ride a bicycle, and uses both pedals from force of habit." -^

Old Gentleman (dictating an indignant letter): "Sir, my shortland typist, being a lady, cannot take down what I think of "you; I, being a gentleman, cannot say it; but you, being neither, can easily guess my thoughts." ' "See there !" exclaimed the Irish revo, lutionist to' the gaping crowd as he exhibited his tall hat with a bullet hole in it. "Look at,that hole, will ye? Ye see, if it had been a low-crowned hat I should have, been killed outright. ,r Clothes, don't make a man, but some fellows are subject to fits, some to misfits. 'i —Mrs A.; '"So Lil and Bill have made up their quarrel, have they?" Mrs B.: " Yes, but only temporarily. They are going to be married soon." The Customer (after the shop assistant had pulled down everything, even to the last packet of hairpins): "You don't appear to have any gumption at all, my man." The Worm: "No, ma'am ; but we shall bo pleased to procure it for you, ma'am 1" "Yes," he was saying, "as a matter of fact, a man doesn't learn what happiness l'eally is until ho is married." "I'm glad you've discovered that at last," replied fhe, with Visions of immediate proposal. ''Yes," he continued; "and when he married it's too late." :.

, —The wandering artist had finished a picture of the rising sun. "-That makes my mouth water,"- commented a rustic onlooker. "Makes your mouth water I" exclaimed the artist. "What on earth d'you mean?" "Why, it's a fried egg. isn't it?" replied the rustic. A:tist (triumphantly): "What do you think of my picture of a peasant girl, Miss Featherbrain?" Miss F. (gushingly): "It's "splendid! What a lovely hat ehe has on! Is she going to a theatje?" Artist (despondently): "That's not a hat; she's carrying home a bundle of hay." —Visitor (at private hospital): "Can I seo Lieutenant Barker, please?" Matron: "We do not allow ordinary visiting. May I ask if you're a relative?" Visitor (boldly): "Oh, yes! I'm his sister." Matron: "Well, well! I'm yery glad to meet you. I'm his mother." "Won't you come to one of my young men's evenings? You should always be careful of what company you keep. One becomes like* one's associates, you know." 'T don't know so much about that, mum. Why, I've been associated with ash all my life, and I can't swim a stroke." v I am delighted to meet you," said the father of the college student, shaking hands •wearily with the professor, who was spending Ohriet.nas with the family. . "M? son took al-.robra from you last year, didn't he?' "I'm afraid not,"-said the professor. "He was exposed to it, but he did not take it!" Magistrate: "Madam, your husband charges, you with assault." Madam • "Ye?, your Worship. I asked him if he would ever cease to love me, and he was so s!o;# at answering that I hit him in the eye with a mop. I'm only a woman, your Worship" (tears), "and a woman's life without love ia a mere blight." He: "Have- you considered, darling, the seriousness oi the atep you -have consented to take? Married life, you know, is not. all honoy. Do yon think you can bear to suffer as well as to rejoice?" She: "Indeed I enn, John. tweeu't I worn shoes tvso sizes too email ever since I was fourteen years old?" •■' -'He had long hair and a pensive look. He wroto a poem, entitled "Why do I Live?" He signed it "Charles Anthony," and sent it to a magazine. The editor wrote him as follows:—"My dear Charles Anthony,—The reason why you live is beyoj sent the poem by post instead of bringing it personally." The critic aeemed struck with the picture. . "This snowstorm painting is very fine indeed," he said to the artist. "It almost makes mo feel cold to look at it." "Yes, it must be realistic," admitted the * other. "A fellow got into my studio one day in my absence, looked at the picture, and unconsciously put my fur overcoat on before he went out!" The conversation had turned to the subject of romantic marriage. "You wero married," said a young girl to a very weary-looking man, "in church, I suppose, with bridesmaids, flowers, cake, and the brass band?" "No, it was an elopement." said the wearv one sadly. "An elopement," cried the girl excitedly. "An elopement, eh? Did the girl's father follow you?" "Yos. and ho has been with us ever since." —ln a certain reserve battalion in Ire-

land there was a oompany-sergeant-maior who had no great liking for returned Expeditionary men. One day a party of these were engacred on the miniature rifle ranire. and one "marksman" was making an awful mess of his target. "Where did you fire a. musketry course, man?" asked the O.S.M. in ruffled tones. The man in the prone position turnpd on his side and naively answered. "Where they fire them back at you. sir!" From that day onward the O.S.M. became quito gentle and harmless! A prominent deacon in a well-known church was seriously ill. As ho was very popular among the consreeeation, a bulletin board was nosted in front of the church to. inform his friends of his condition. It read: "One o'clock. Deacon Jones very ill. "Two o'olock. Deacon Jones ie worse, and sinking ranidly." "Three ' o'clock. Deacon Jones dead." A way passing by that evening read the bulletin, and, seeing no ono In sight, added at tho bottom: "Seven

o'clock. Great excitement in heaven. Deacon Jones has not yet arrived. The worst is feared." —lt was Christmas Eve in camp, and very cold at that. There was a certain amount of confusion owing to the Christmas festivities, and leave and so forth, and one man was unable to find any of his outer garments. He wandered about shivering, and asking all his mates if they knew where they were. "Has anyone seen my b-b-blanket?" he demanded, and was told that no one had. "Has anyone seen my t'-'t-trousers?" No answer. The unfortunate Tommy scratched his head for a moment. "Well, I'm jolly g-g-glad I have got a n-nice w-w-warm pair of b-b-bracee!" •