Laughs

Southland Times, Issue 19690, 24 October 1925, Page 23

Laughs

HE KNEW Doctor: “You must be careful and follow the right directions for taking this pill.” Pat: “Go on wid ye. There’s only wan direction fer it to go.” —Cousin Vera Gillespie. DIFFERENT METAL. An Irishman had just come over from Ireland to New York to seek his fortune, when, as he was walking through one of the busy thoroughfares, he saw a batch of policemen going on duty. “Begorra!” he exclaimed. “They told me the strates of New York were paved with gold, but I find they’re paved with ‘coppers.’ ” —Cousin Vera Gillespie. DAD’S BIRTHDAY. Dad decided to celebrate his birthday, and a neighbour proposed that each guest should bring articles to correspond with what they thought Dad’s age was. This pleased dad, and he offered a sucking pig to the nearest guesser. When the day arrived, and the neighbours trooped in, the articles were counted and listed. Dad at the head of the table read out the list—- “ Tim Hogan, 60 studs; Mick Cassidy, 70 spuds; Mrs Tooth, 59 peaches,” etc. The last name on the list was MacTavish, late of Aberdeen. Dad blinked at the name and smiled. “Mr MacTavish, 36 peanuts,” he said, “Struth, I don’t look that young?” “Na, na,” said Mac, “but it’s as near as I could get wi’ truppence.” “WeU, my age is forty-nine, and ” “I win the sucking pig,” said Mac, jumping up in excitement. “I brought thirtysix peanuts and thirteen complaints against your terrible bairns!” —Cousin Alison MacKenzie. WHY? Jackie: “Why does your new baby cry so much ?” Mabel: “If all your teeth were out and your hair off, and your legs so weak that you could not stand on them, you’d cry a bit more than my baby does, I guess!” Marjory Smith. NAUGHTY TEETH! Auntie: “Why, darling, what are you crying for? Are you in pain? Little Betty: “800-hoo! My teeth have gone and trodden on my tongue!” —Cousin Marjory Smith. THE FINISHING TOUCHES. “Mother,” said little John, entering from an errand, “I’ve seen a man who makes horses.” “Oh! Johnny, are you sure?” replied his puzzled mother. “Yes,” he said, “he had a horse nearly finished when I saw him; he was just nailing on its back feet.” —Cousin Isa Robertson. TOMMY KNEW. School Teacher: “Tommy, tell me what it is that the busy bees teach us.” Tommy (with painful memories): “To keep away from the hive, sir.” —Cousin Isa Robertson. A FUNNY DREAM. Mamma: “Goodness! What is the matter?” Molly: “Oh, mummy! I dreamt that I swallowed myself—but I haven’t, have I?” —Cousin Vera Gillespie. WELL DONE’ “Now, Tommy,” said tnummie, “I’m going upstairs to make the beds and I want you to look after these shirts I’ve put to air by the fire.” , “Yes, mum,” said Tommy cheerfully, and mother departed to the higher regions. After a time Tommy’s shrill treble floated up the stairs: “Come on, mum, I think the shirts are done. They are quite brown.” —Cousin Raymond Smith. CUTTING. Visitor: “Bother it, air; I’ve just been stung by one of your bees. What are you going to do about it?” Bee-keeper: “If you’ll first show me which bee it was, sir, I’ll punish the horrid thing severely.”—Cousin Ethel Dowler. WHO WROTE IT? Teachers at times receive some curious notes from parents—and others. One of the most original was brought to school one morning by a boy named Tom Smith. Tom had been absent the day before. The note ran: “Dear sir,—Please exkuse Tommy been absent yestiday. I tore my pants.— Yours truly, Misses Smith.”—Cousin Ethel Dowler.