Democratic Sentinel, Volume 1, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 July 1877 — WIT AND HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

WIT AND HUMOR.

“The light of other days”—Flint and steel. Deep laid schemes — Figg-shaped torpedoes. The center of gravity — An undertaker’s nose. An anomaly in the binding ,of books— Ancient calf. A social glass to which ladies are addicted—The mirror. What tricks are most common among Irishmen ? Patricks. 4 Working for a bare’life—Making clothes for a young baby. / Extract from a letter* in a recent breach-of-promise case: (“My ownest own.” V Doctors never allow ducks on their premises, they make such personal remarks. What bird is in season all the year round and extra when necessary ? The weather-cock. A contractor’s ignorant wife lately remarked, “We are building an extenuation to our house.” “ He wooed and she wouldn’t,” is the way they put it in ’Frisco when a woman declines a proposal of marriage. A person always meets with a warm reception at a hotel. The minute he arrives he is placed on the register. A little girl suffering from the mumps declares that she “feels as though a headache had slipped down into her neck.” A clergyman, who was annoyed by the squeaking shoes of his parishioners, remarked that some people had “ to much, music in their soles. ” A photographer who can make a mole on a lady’s chin appear like a dimple in her picture has achieved the highest standard of his profession. Patient (to doctor, who has called in his sporting costume): “I presume, doctor, the reason you have brought your gun is to be sure not to miss me.” “ Yes’m; and were I to give my opinion of the fowl, I should say it was old enough to have scratched up seeds of original sin when they were first planted.” “I am speaking,” said a long-winded orator, “for the benefit of posterity.” “Yes,” said one of his hearers, “and, if yon keep on much longer, your audience will be here.” Bertie: “Papa, when I grow up, maylbowhatl like?” Papa: “Yes, my boy, you may choose your own profession.” Bertie: “ Then J 11 be a sweep, for I shall neve)' have to wash my face.’ Tin? melancholy days have conic, The saddest of theyoar; Tho huckleberry and the Reach, The cherries now are here. Nor ripe are they, or cheap of price, Hut folks will buy and eat— Will drink of ice-cold water, too; Then die—as it is meet. Tins was about the time of year that Eve used to examine the foliage of fig' leaves, and pick out the prettiest for her new summer dress. She never relied upon the fashion magazines for her styles, but just cut the dress bias or gored, as her simple fancy dictated. A woman, was lately charged with trying to poisofixher husband. The unfortunate man wiffs in the witness-box. Suddenly his/ wife exclaimed, “ Your Honor, all that has been said till now is mere invention. You cannot sentence me without proof. I demand an autopsy.” The late James Baird, who died in Scotland, leaving on estate worth three millions sterling, built himself a magnificent house, and in it was a large library, The latter, however, contained no books. A friend advised Mr. Baird to make the place complete. But the wealthy Scot knew very little about books, and he therefore placed himself in the hands of a bookseller, who made a large selection for him. The question of binding was not, however, so easily settled. Would Mr. Baird have them bound in calf, in Russia, or in morocco? “No,” was the patriotic reply, “ho would just ha’ ’em bound in Glasgow.”