Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 September 1884 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

*1 aim to toll the truth." “Yes," interrupted an acquaintance, “and you are probably the worst shot in America.” G IS very proud of his ancestry, and was exhibiting his gallery to his friends one day. warrior is one of your ancestors?” asks one, pointing to a mail-clad figure before him “Yes,” he was in the crusades." “In which one of them?” “In aIL” Stobekeepeb —“This piece is counterfeit.” Customer—“l know it. I got it here.” Storekeeper—“ That cannot be. We never take bad money.” Customer—“l am aware that it is your rule to give bad money, not to take it; but I trust you will make an exception this time.” “What are you slowing up for?” 5%11ed a freight conductor to an engineer on one of our Vermont roads. “Why, we’ve run over a book agent.” “Drat it all, then, why don’t you keep on? We can’t kill him unless the whole train runs over him.”—Burlington Free Press. “Chabming Lucy,” said an Austin gilded youth to the apple barrel of his expectation, “a kiss from your lips is heaven on earth.” “O, give us a rest.” “Have I offended thee, dearest one?” “No, but you bore me with your lack of originality. Hundreds of men have told me that same old story until I am tired of hearing it.— Texas Siftings. A philosopheb who had borrowed some money to pay for his night’s lodgings at a hotel woke up in the night and saw a person climbing through the window. With admirable nonchalance he said to the intruder, “Look here, my friend, you’ll get into debt if you rob me; for you won’t find anything but unreceipted tailors’ bills in my pockets.” A new baby recently arrived in the family of a Louisville journalist, and papa was excessively proud of the event. Turning to the old black nurse, “Aunty,” said he, stroking the little pate, “this boy seems to have a journalistic head,” “Oh,” cried the untutored old aunty, soothingly, “never you mind ’bout dat; dat’ll come all right in time.” — Courier-Joumal. “Wake up!” exclaimed Mrs. Mulberry in a loud whisper, as she punched the slumbering Mulberry in the short ribs with her elbow the other night; “wake up; I’m sure I hear burglars down in the dining-room.” “Don’t disturb them, then,” said the drowsy Mulberry, turning over on the other side. “Be just as quiet as you can, and maybe they will eat some of that fruitcake you have in the pantry. ” A scientist has discovered that codfish have germs that are liable to develop into form more terrible than trichinae, and in the toothsome mackerel are hidden microci which cooking fails to kill. This is becoming serious. The microscope reveals terrible wriggling monsters in our drinking-water; poison lurks in the ice-cream can; canned fruits and meats are sending their victims to the grave; and pretty soon the only article of food and drink that will be safe to indulge in are early strawberries and whisky—which we don’t like.— Norristown Herald.