The Graphic's Funny Leaf

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXV, Issue II, 14 July 1900, Page 96

The Graphic's Funny Leaf

FILLED WITH FICTION. It happened in a bookseller's shop. ‘■What can 1 show you. madam?” he asked. “Something in the line of fiction?" “No." she answered slowly. “1 think I’ll try history for a change. I get enough fiction when my husband gets home late from the dub." \BSENCE MAKES HER DEARER. Mrs Younglove: “Do you think absence. really makes the heart grow fonder, Harold?” -Mr Younglove: “I guess it does. At all events you are about twice as dear to me when you’re away at one of those high-priced summer resorts as w hen you’re at home.” VERY BAD FORM. Daughter (after the theatre): "That play was so interesting I couldn’t do a thing but just sfl and listen to it.” Fashionable .Mother: “It was abominable. the way you watched that play. People must have thought we were from the country.” MISERIES OF EXCLUSIVENESS. Miss Downton; ‘Where are you going next summer?" Miss Upton: "To the Upper Thames.” “Mercy! That’s a horrid place: nothing but swamps anti musquitoes.” “I know it: but all the pretty resorts are tilled up nowadays by the common herd, von know." A DISCOVERY. First Miss: “The other day I [ticked up a copy of Goethe’s ‘Wilhelm Meister.’ and I was never more surprised in mv life. Why. it’s about all sorts of immoral Characters." Second Miss: "Is it? Dear me! I had an idea it was dry and uninteresting.” SCHEDULE TIME. Mr Cheapside: “I thought you said you were going to Mrs Brick’s five o’clock tea this afternoon? H’s after five now." Mrs Cheupside: "There’s no hurry Her til, o'clock tea isn’t likely to be reaily before seven. She’s got the girl I used to have."

The Ostrich: “Why not? Those •European women put our feathers on their heads why shouldn’t we cover our baldness witu their hair?”

NO HOPE FOR THE WEARY WIVES. .Mrs Bronston (pale, weary, and half distracted): “That’s the ninth girl I’ve had within a month, and she just threw a fiat-iron at me.” Mr Bronston: “By the way. a party of us to-day were trying to evolve a scheme for co-operative house-keep-ing. Our plan was to rent a small family hotel, hire our own help, do our own managing, and share the expenses.” “That’s grand! It would lie just like living in an absolutely perfect hotel, and at half the cost. Oh, I’m delighted! Who will go in with us?” “Well, there’s Jinks, for one.” “His wife dosn’t move in our set.” “And Winks.” “Mrs Winks is a scandal monger, and you know it.” “And Minks ” “Catch me living under the same roof with that flirting woman.” "Well, there’s Binks. husband of your friend. Mrs Binks.” “Very nice in company, but they say she’s a terror at home.” "And there’s Finks.” “Mrs Finks is a regular old cat.” “And Pinks.” "Huh! Mrs Pinks and her two pretty daughters, with no thought but dress and the opera! Nice ones they’d be to keep house with!” "And your dear friend Mrs Kinks." “She didn't return my last call, and I've dropped her.” “But what shall we do?” “Get another girl.” A PLEASANT ARRANGEMENT. Bride: “Now. my dear, how shall we manage about church? We belong to different religious denominations. you know. Shall I go with yon, or will you go with me?" Groom: “I’ll tell you how we'll fix it. You tell your minister that you are going to my ehurch and I’ll tell my minister that I am going to your church. Then we won’t be missed and needn’t go anywhere.” A WEARISOME PROBLEM. Fatigue: “How is your husband?” asked one of two women who had met at the bargain counter. "Very much run down.” was the answer. “Perhaps he works too hard." “No. he doesn't. But he loses sleep and wrecks his constitution trying to figure out some way to live without working at all.” A TEDIOUS WAIT. "May I ask what is going on in the village?" inquired the observant stranger. "We’re celebrating the birthday of the oldest inhabitant, sir.” replied the native. “She’s hundred and one today. sir.” “Anil tell me, pray, who is that little man with that dreadfully sad countenance who walks by the old lady's side?” “That’s her son-in-law. sir. He's liei-n keeping up her life insurance for the last thirty years.” GOOD AS CAPITAL. Binks: “New man in your office. I see. Looks like a prize-fighter." Winks: "He's my silent [Kirtner." "Eh? Does he foot the bills?” "No. He foots the collectors." REMEMBERING A FAVOUR. Inklestein, the pawnbroker, bows very graciously as he [lasses young Jones. Miss de Rigueur; “Tom, why does that [>erson bow so obsequiously to you ?" Tom Jones: “Oh, he helped me out of a difficulty once, and I gave him a gold watch for it.”

NOTES AND QUERIES. Antiquarian: “The custom of throwing the slipper after a bride, comes down from very ancient times. Long before the Christian era, a defeated chief would take off his shoes and hand them to the victor, to show that the loser of the shoes yielded up all authority over his subjects. Therefore, when the family of a bride throw slippers after her they mean that they renounce all authority over her. Do you understand?” Small auditor: “Yes, sir. They throw away the slippers they used to spank her with!”

Sophy: Oh, Maria, I’m so glad to see you. 1 haven’t seen you for ever so long. Where are you lodging? Maria (loftily): I don’t lodge. I aim married, and have taken a flat. Sophy: You don’t say so? What is liis name? A DISGUSTED TREASURER. “What made vou quit the club. Billy?” “Reason enough, I can tell you. I worked five years to be elected treasurer. and then they insisted on putting in a cash register.” SILENCE IN THE COURT. Judge: Bailiff, have that shuffling of feet stopped. The noise is very annoying to me. Hibernian Bailiff (in stentorian tones): Here, now! Howd yure tongues wid yer feet, ivery man av yez. Sure, his anner can’t hear himself think! HOME WAYS. The Soldier's Mother: I got a letter from George to-day. and he is grumbling about the victuals in the army. The Soldier's Wife: I am glad to hear that he is making himself at home. A SUITABLE DOG. Lady: 1 wish to select a pet dog. Dealer: Live in the city,-I suppose, mini? Yes, I live in a flat. 'I hen I would advise an Italian greyhound. mum. No matter how much you feeds a greyhound, he alters stays narrer. IN A DAZE. First Miss: Where are you going this summer? Second M iss: I haven’t the least idea. First Miss: But can't you judge from what you heard your pa and ma say ? Second Miss: Well, from the way ma talks I’d think we were going to London, Paris, Berlin, Rome. Egypt, and all through India. From the way pa talks I’d think we were going to the poor-house. QUEER NOISES. First Guest (at grand ball) Hark, isn’t that the champagne popping in the supper-room? Second Guest: No; I guess it’s the young couples in the conservatory.

HER CHOICE OF EVILS. Sapleigh—Miss Smythe is a jolly tine girl. She never objects to my smoking a cigarette in her presence. Rapleigh—Yes; she told me the other day that she always liked you to smoke when you called, although she detests cigarettes. Spaleigh—Then she sacrifices her own comfort for the sake of giving me pleasure. Now, that’s jolly clever of her. isn’t it? Rapleigh—l don’t believe she considers it a sacrifice. She says you don't talk so much when you smoke. OSTRACISM. These people were connected with a scandal, and were therefore socially ostracised. It is true sumptuous carriages were frequently to be seen drawing up at their door, but these brought only snobs. The coal man delivered their coal without saying a word, and the policeman was hardly civil to their cook. Peddlars passed their house by. Agents left no samples of soap whatever. Theirs was a gloomy life. Anybody could see that their gaiety was affectation. IRONY OF FATE. “Ah,” sighed the long-haired passenger, “how little we know of the future and what it has in store for us!” “That’s right,” rejoined the man with the auburn whiskers in the seat opposite. “Little did I think some thirty years ago when I carved my initials on the rude deck in the old eunotry scholhouse thtt would some day grow up and fail to become famous." VICTORY ASSURED. He was a candidate for Council honours. “A speech! A speech!” yelled the crowd. In response to the popular clamour he mounted an empty beer keg and said: “Boys. I thank you. All hands step inside and have something.” It was a brief specimen of oratory, but it touched the spot. A SITUATION EXPLAINED. “Did you lose any money at the races?” “Not a cent,” answered the patient man. “That was lucky.” “Well. I suppose so. But I was entitled to some luck. You see, I had my pocket picked just before the first race started.” THE NICER PHRASE. “What’s the difference between a bet and a wager?” asked the man who thinks there are too many words in the English language. “A bet,” said the friend who always wears a dress coat after six o’clock, “is something you make with a man which has to be paid, no matter who loses. A wager is something more refined. It’s made with a woman, and is not considered collectable unless she wins.”

NO NEED TO WORRY. Miss Million (of uncertain age): The only thing that worries me is the wedding tour. It will be perfectly horrible to have people know Miss Rosebud (viciously): Oh, don’t worry. They’ll think you’re his mother.