WIT AND HUMOUR.

Rangitikei Advocate and Manawatu Argus, Volume XLI, Issue 11400, 20 November 1917, Page 6

WIT AND HUMOUR.

POOR WIFE? » Professor Gilsnipe dropped in at liis friend the doctor’s the other night. He was breathing heavily, and seemed to be in a great hurry. “Ah, professor,” said the doctor, “come in. Let me take your coat and hat. Been taking a sharp walk, I suppose, after the day’s work? How’s the great hook getting on—the monograph' on “Biological Researches Among the Neolithic Tribes of Northern Nigeria?” Once started on the topic nearest his heart, the professor dropped into an easy chair and talked for hours. A bottle of whiksy was produced, and it was about midnight before the guest rose to leave. ‘W‘oll, good night, professor, ’ ’ said he doctor. “Give my regards to all at homo. They’re all well, I suppose?” “My goodness !” cried the professor, clapping his hand to his brow. ‘‘ 1 hat reminds me. knew I came to see youabout something. My wife’s nearly dying of ptomaine poisoning!”

“SHERRY’S” WIT. One of the smartest tons mots over spoken in Parliament came from Richard Brimsioy Sheridan, grandson of Dr. Sheridan, at the time he wes sitting for Westminster. A long-winded member having paused in the midst of a tedious language to take a glass of water, Sheridan immediately rose to a point of order. Everybody wondered what the point of order could be. “What is it?” asked the Speaker. “I think, sir,” said Sheridan, with great seriousness, “that it is out of order for a windmill to go by water. ’ ’ Burke’s well-known melodramatic hinging of a dagger on the floor of the House of Commons was a farcical event which gave scope for a joke from Sheridan. “The gentleman has brought us the knife, but where is the fork?” He spared neither friend nor foe With his wit. When it was suggested that his son should enter Parliament, and ho was asked which side lie would take, the young mau replied that he would vote with those who iiad the most to offer him, and lie should wear on his forehead a label, “To Let. ’ ’ “Do, Tom,” commented Sheridan, “and write underneath, “unfurnished.”’