Democratic Sentinel, Volume 1, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 September 1877 — WIT AND HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

WIT AND HUMOR.

Thk middle ages—Averages. The question of the hour—What time is it? A “swell” dinner—Dried apples and water. Bbigham Young was killed by too much corn. He would havo been a good subject for Bunyan. Salt Lake City just at present reminds one of a Wall street speculation; there’s no great prophet in it. When a man is making love to a widow he always feels as if he had to begin where the other fellow left oil*. “A special dispatch to the Paris papers report that the Czar is ill.” Indigestion probably; a little too much Turkey. “ What is the interior of Africa principally used for?” asked a teacher of a pupil. “ For purposes of exploration,” was the reply. Johnnie lost his knife. After searching in ofie pocket and another until ho had been through all without success, he exclaimed: “ Oh, dear ! I wish Iliad another pocket, it might be in that!” A bepokter for a Wisconsin paper writes: “Those who personally kmw our esteemed fellow-citizen, Col. , will regret to hear that he was brutally assaulted last evening, but not killed.” In most places “a stone’s throw,” “live minutes’ Walk,” etc., arc used for measures of short distances. In Dubuque, however, they speak of a phioe as being “ within the bawl of a mule.” It makifs a boy heart-sick as the winter’s wood begins to loom up in steadilygrowing piles in the back-yard, and he sees his mother making preparations for organizing him into a “workingman’s party.” Governess —‘ *Do you know, Ernest, that I heard of a little boy not older than you who can read and write well, and who has begun Latin ?” Ernest—- “ Oh, I say, what a jolly good teacher he must have !” “ Musing on the infinite, eh ?” said a facetious chap to a melancholy-looking individual who was walking along the road-side with bowed head and serious countenance. “ Well, yes ; same thing —thinking of my debts. ” A good little boy who was kicked by a mule did not say naughty words or go home crying to his mother. He just tied the mule within five feet of a beehive, backed him round to it, and let him kick. —Richmond Dinpatch. “ All the world’s a stage,” he ruminated, “and all the men and women merely players, and most of the plays aro from Sliakspeare, too ! Before .we were married, Julia and I played * Borneo and Juliet,’ and now it’s mostly ‘ Tempest.’”

A Roman who recently returned from Philadelphia informs us that the Keely moter consists of a pound of boardinghouse butter shut up in an iron box. This statement will do much to renew confidence in the power of the motor. — Rome IN. Y.) Sentinel. “ Adolphus, dear, what shall I do? Bridget has struck, and there she stands at the kitchen door with a poker in one hand and a saucepan in the other, threatening to break the head of the new help if she dares to lay her hand to a dish-rag. It’s just awful, so it is, too.” Herb is a conundrum which we do not remember to have seen in print: Why is a pig looking out of a second-story window like the moon ? Because lie looks round. If anybody triumphantly retorts that the moon doesn’t always look round, you can reply that the pig doesn’t either.— Lowell Courier. Despite competitive examination, every thing in the civil service does not go quite smoothly as yet. A young gentleman had to be mildly reproved for the irregularity of liis attendance. His Celtic blood was inflamed, and, turning upon his rebukers, he angrily told them, “Sure if it wasn’t for the thrifle of salary ye give, the divil a bit o’ me would come here at all!” “ Is this the place,” she asked, as she wandered down on the barren sands, ‘ 4 where a young lady—a beautiful young lady—fell into the water and was rescued by a gallant young man, whom she afterward married ?” He looked at her carefully, estimated her at a square with false teeth, and said : “ Yes, ma’am, but I don’t know how to swim.” VIVE LA BAGATELLE? About a year or so ago, When I was young and quite conceited, I chanced to meet the prettiest girl, I thought, my eyes had ever greeted. ’Tie useless for me to repeat The tale with which we’re all acquainted; I lost my heart to her at once, And found her all my fancy painted. I loved her, or I thought I did, Yet found my true love had miscarried, For when I asked her heart and hand, She said she was already married. This was a year or so ago, When I was young and sentimental; My heart was nearly broken then ; Now I don’t care « continental. —New York Sun.