THE SAVING GRACE.

Thames Star, Volume LIX, Issue 16656, 28 November 1925, Page 2

THE SAVING GRACE.

ODDMENTS OF HUMOUR. PINCHED FOII ROOM. Tho chauffeur was holding forth in the village inn. “Yes, my young guv’nor rowed for Hoxl'ord, ’e did. Wins ’undrcds oi races, air always ’as the name and date of the race engraved on his scull.” “On his skull!” exclaimed the listener, “lunime! ’E must ’ave an ’ead like a lieiepiiant.”

EQUALLY GOOD RESULTS. Both were wireless enthusiasts boasting of their wonderful success at listen-ing-in to theatre broadcasts. “Do you know,” said one, “I distinctly heard the scene-shifters talking the other night!” His companion took a deep breath. “That’s nothing. Why, listening in to the performance of ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ I not only heard the applause, but also the cries of ‘Author.’ ” * » * BETTER PROSPECTS. “Bang!” went the rides at the manoeuvres. «Oo—o!” screamed the pretty girl—a nice, decorous, surprised little scream — as she stepped backward into the arms of a young man. “Oh!” she said, blushing. “I was frightened by the rides. I beg your pardon.” “Not at all, ’ said the young man. “Let’s go over and watch the artiflery.” # PROOF. In order to test the intelligence of the new office boy, the boss sent him through the warehouse to find out how many gas mantles needed replacing. After a diligent and painstaking search, he came back with the astonishing report, “Four hundred, sir.” “Four hundred? Why, there’s only just four hundred in the place.” “Well,” replied the boy, “four hundred is right. I squeezed ’em all and every one is foft.” * »• * ' * THE ALTERNATIVE. The motorist whose car had come to a sudden standstill quickly diagnosed tho trouble, and then applied at a neighbouring cottage for assistance. “Pardon me,” he said to the old lady who answered his knock, “do you by chance possess any lubricating oil?” The old lady shook her head. “Any oil will do,” said the motorist, hopefully; “castor oil, if you have any.” “I ain’t got it,” said the old lady, regretfully, “but I could fix you up with a dose of salts.” * * * » THE PRODIGAL SON. The scapegrace son came to the end of his resources and sent home a pite,ous appeal for funds, adding that, if help were not forthcoming, he would be driven to the workhouse. The treply was crushing. It came in the shape of a telegram: “As you have mado your bed, so you must lie on it.”

But the quick-witted scapegrace was equal to the occasion. Without a moment’s delay lie wired back:—• “Haven’t a bed. Bailiffs took it yesterday.” . A substantial cheque Hollowed m due course. A MISCELLANEOUS FAMILY. Mi's. O’Flarity, a charwoman, has been absent from her duties for several days. Upon her return, her employer asked her the reason for her absence. “Sure, I’ve bin carin’ for wan of me sick children,” she replied. “And hovr many children have you, Mrs. O’FJarity?” he asked. “Sivin in all,” she replied. “Four by the third wife of me second husband, and three by the second wife of me first.” * * * * THE HERO. Manoeuvres in which the Red and Blue Armies had engaged in mimic warfare had ended. They are afterwards the subject of conversation. “Yes, I was at the manoeuvres,” remarked a talkative stranger, “1 was with the Blue Army.” “Tell us about it,” said a companion. “Well, the first day I took one of the Red’s officers.” “Yes?” “And the next day I took eight men.” “Well, well!” “Yes, arid the day after that 1 took a lot of transport waggons and a big gun.” “I say, my friend,” said an astonished listener, “what are you, anyway?” “A photographer,” replied the stranger. ♦ * *• •* \ | THE RETORT COURTEOUS. A certain surgeon who is very young and also rather shy was invited to a dinner-party given by a woman who is at least fifty, but frivolous enough for twenty. At dinner she asked the surgeon to carve the chicken, and, not having done so before, he failed miserably. Instead of trying to cover his confusion, the hostess called attention to it by looking down the table and saying loudly: “Well, you may be a clever surgeon, but if I wanted a leg cut off, I should not come to you to do it.” “No,” he replied, politely, “but then, vou are not a chicken.” *** * * WELL LICKED. A boy, twelve years of age, with an! air of resignation went lo his teacher and handed in the following note fsom his mother before taking his seat: “Dear sid.—Please excuse James for not being present yesterday. “He played truant, but you needn’t whip him for it, as the .toy he piayed; truant with and him, fell out and he licked James. , A man they tirew stones at caught him . nd lick d him, and the driver of a cart they hung on to licked him; and the wner •. .• cat they chased licked him. Then I licked him when he came home, after wl. ich liis father licked him, and I had to give him another for being impudent to me for telling his fat.ier. So you need not lick him until next time. “He thinks lie will attend regularly in future.” • * * * MEANS JUSTIFIED END. At the little missionary church the minister, a coloured man, announced that he regretted to state that a certain brother had retired to rest the night before without locking the door of his fowl-house, and ,on rising in the morning, had found that all his chickens had disappeared. “I don’t want to be personal,” he added, “but I hab my suspicions as to who stole dem chickens. I shall be glad if the man who took dem will not put any money 7 m the box when it is passed round, and then I shall know if dose suspicions are right or not.” The collection was taken. The boxes were crammed full. “Now 7 , brederen,” announced the minister, “I don’t w 7 ant you to spoil your dinners by wonderin’ where dat brudder lives who don’t lock his chickens up at night. Dat brudder don’t exist, mail friends; he was a parable for de purposes of finance.”