Wit and Humour.

Western Star, Issue 856, 28 June 1884, Page 2 (Supplement)

Wit and Humour.

“Papa, please tell me the story of the new comet,” said Mary to her father last evening. “ I cannot, my dear,” replied Mr Battler, “ there is no tail to it yet.” It isn’t such a gain. It’s as much work to lick a two-cent stamp as a three. « Is it true that when a wild goose’s mate dies it never takes another ?” asks a young widow. Yes, but don’t worry about that. The reason it acts that way is because it is a goose Never confide your secrets to paper; it is like throwing a stone into the air, and if you know who throws the stone, you do,not know where it may fall. A young wife’s greatest trial is probably to find out whether it would be proper to starch her husband’s shirt all over or only on the bosom and cuffs. There are persons who have more intelligence that taste, and others who have more taste than intelligence. There is more vanity and caprice in taste than intelligence. One string my friend, is dumb beneath your hand: Strike, and it throbs and vibrates at your will. Palters upon the verge of sound, and still Falls back as sea waves shattered on the strand. A German has constructed a ship “so that in case of accident to the bow, the stem half can be instantaneously separated from it and continue the voyage securely and easily on its own account.” All that is now wanted is an improvement on this device by which, when there is an accident to any part of the hull, the crew and passengers may go aloft and continue their voyage securely and easily, though the hull may go to the bottom. THEY call this a rondeau. I loved her once, and thought her true— A witch with eyes cerulean blue. But, as I took her dainty hand And knelt beside her on the strand, A careless zephyr earthward blew Her ’kerchief, showing to my view A picture of a man I knew. Perhaps you hardly understand—

I loved her once! Pond heart! how can I say adieu ? These bitter tears my eyes bedew. For even now at alter grand He binds her with his golden band For time —for aye—and I, boo-hoc— I loved her once.

what’s in a name. “ Howe’er it be, it seems to me ’Tis only noble to be good, Kind hearts are more than coronets. And simple faith than Norman blood

A" short time ago a London pawnbroker was aroused about 1 a.m. by a vigorous pounding at his street door. Hast'ly throwing bn a dressing gown, he rushed to the window and demanded, “ Who’s there ?” “ I want to know the time.” came the response from the pavement in the familiar tones of a frequent customer. “ What do you mean by calling me up at this time of night to ask such a question as that ?” replied the irate pawnbroker. “ Well, and to whom else should I come ?” was the rejoinder, in husky accents; “ you’ve got my watch !”

Long range shooting was gossiped about at a recent meeting of sportsmen in the White Mountains. A man from Virginia told several marvellous stories, one of which was to the effect that his father, who had been one of the pioneers into Kentucky, had once owned a rifle with which he had killed a deer at the distance of two miles. “ I know it seems almost incredible,” he said, in conclusion ; but the ground was measured by a practised surveyor and that was the sworn result.” A brief silence followed this , which was followed by another sportsman, who said, “ Look here, uncle Nat, how about that rifle that General Knox gave to you ? If I don’t forget that could shoot some.” ‘‘You mean the one I had to fire salted balls from, eh P” “Yes. Tell us about it.” “ Pshaw! It doesn’t matter. Let the old piece rest in its glory.” And the old resident would have sat back out of the way j bat the story-tellers had"become suddenly interested. “ Let us hear about it,” pleaded the gentleman whose father had been a Kentucky pioneer. “ Did j understand you that you salted your bullets ?” Always,” said Nat, seriously and emphatically. “ And wherefore pray ?” “ Because,” answered the old mountaineer, with simple honesty in look and tone, “ that rfl > killed at such-a distance that otherwise, esp'Cially in warm weather, game would spoil with age before I could reach it.” SHE KNEW SHE WAS RIGHT “Is the gentleman of the house in ?” he asked. “Yes, sir; he air.” “ Can I see him for a moment?” “No, sir ; you can’t see a hide or hair of ’im !” “ Why can't Imadam ? I would like to speak to him on business.” “If you was >1 dyin’ an’ Jim war the only doctor in Dakoty, you cnuldt?’’ sot an eye on him till he giv -s i i an’ talks decent At dinner a while ago he told me to pass ’im the apple soss, an’ I tol - ’im it wasn’t soss, but s iss, an’ be said he knowed better, it was soss, an’ I tol’ ’im that wuen he tuk a notion, tha* - a little apple sass’d feel soothin’ to his stomack to say so, an’ he said he’d have that soss er die. Then I tol’ him I’d defend that sass with life, an’ made a break for the shot-gun, an’ he made a break up through the scuttle inter the loft. W’en his senses cum to him an’ he gives in that sass is sass he kin cum down, but if he makes a break afore that, off goes the top of his head. Thar sets the sass, stranger, an’ tiiar’s Jim up in the loft, an’ that’s the way the matter stands jisb now, an’ I reckon you’d better mosey along an’ not get mixed inter this row !” As the gentleman moved away he heard her voice saying!—“Jim, w’eu you git tied o’ yer dura foolin’ an’ want this sass, jes’squeal out!” And a gruff voice from the darksome garret responded : —“ Soss !” WORSE THAN THAT. A violent ring at the door, and the docto c poked his head out of an upper window and demanded, “ What’s wanted ?” “For pity’s sake, make haste,” came back the answer. “ It’s a case of death ; I'm Mt Simpson, and you are wanted at the house immediately.” The doctor closed the window, and iu fifteen minutes later sauntered leisurely out of the front door an said : “Ah, Simpson, your wife has another fainting spell, I suppose.” “ No, no ; worse than that. It’s her little dog, her pet poodle. He’s all rolled up with cramps.” “ What ?” shouted the now alarmed paisician, *• her pet poodle sick ? This is ind ted serious. If she should die your wife would not live a week.”

Aud the two men dashed madly up the street.