THE LIGHT COLUMN.

Rangitikei Advocate and Manawatu Argus, Volume XLV, Issue 11929, 24 October 1919, Page 2

THE LIGHT COLUMN.

ALLEGED HUMOUR. A WONDERFUL WORLD. ‘■‘Don’t talk to me about the wonders of past ages, ” said Uncle 4 00 Cannon. ‘‘The world to-day is far more wonderful than ever before. Just think. It took Columbus as many months as it now takes days to cross the ocean and we talk about flying and travelling a mile a minute as though they were nothing. “Why, the other day X dropped into a country school just in time to hear the teacher ask: “ ‘Johnny, into what two great classes is the human race divided?’ Arid Johnny answered promptly . ‘Motorists End pedestrians.’ “That’s what I call progress. After awhile there won’t be any pedestrians. ” Q.B.D. A junior counsel who was once arguing a case before Lord Esher kept continually using the letters “Q. B, D.” At length Lord Esher demanded angrily “What do you mean by Q. r. Counsel replied in amaze ment, “Why, my lord, (Queen’s Bench Division, of course. ” “Well,” answered Lord Esher, gazing with indignant burning eves, “if you mean Queen’s Bench Division, why don’t you say Queen’s Bench Division? When counsel keeps heaving at my head every second this Q.B.D. and that Q.B.D. and the other Q.8.D., I feel inclined to say to him, ‘U. B. D. ’ ” HUMOUR ON THE DOVER PATROL. On one dark night the, moved into the midst of a lot of drifters from Ramsgate, and they forthwith challenged her. The destroyer took no notice; the senior officer of the Ramsgate Patrol, being on board one of the drifters, insisted on a reply. None was forthcoming, and so, taking a megaphone, Captain —, R. shouted angrily. ‘What destroyer is that?’ ‘Oh, go to —!” was the —’s reply. The challenging then ceased, and Captain —, R.N., reported the matter in writing to the admiral. In the letter he wrote: “The language used in replying to my hail convinced me that 1 was talking to a friend. ’ ’ IT WAS ALL AN ILLUSION. The late Dr. Mouillott received a hurried call from a farmer who lived in Co. Wexford. He found him suffering from a very severe attack of pneumonia. “In the name of goodness, Pat, what have you been doing to yourself?” “Nothing at all, yer honour,” was the reply. “Whore were you yesterday'?” asked the doctor. “At the fair of Ferns. ” was the answer. “What did you do afterwards?” ‘ T walked home, yer honour, and when I reached the house I took my hat and trousers off, and hung them on the back of tthe door, and went to bed, but begorra, when I woke in the moruin’, I was lying in a wet ditch, and my trousers were hanging from a branch of a tree.” POLITE. After years of patient strap-hang-ing he had ceased to complain, and had resigned himself to the inevitable. and did not expect a seat in exchange for his fare as he journeyed i home by tube from the city, and now he was getting old. However, one evening he felt bound mildly to expostulate with the individual who was ’sitting in the seat below the strap to which he was pathetically clinging, “Excuse me sir” he said in a gentle voice, “but would you be so kind as to move your portmanteau from the passage; I can scarcely find room to stand.” “Move my pormanteau?’ said the other with a gasp, “What on earth do you mean, sir? Those are my feet.” “Is that so?” was the reply. “Then perhaps you would be kind enough to pile them one above the other, ”