Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 November 1884 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

A cold wave —waving the flag in the polar regions. A vote in the ballot-box is worth two "on the fenoe.” If you wish to keep your name untarnished, scour yonr door plate night and morning.— Carl Pretzel. Mbs. St helling, r. 69 Morosini, is gotog to Bing on the stage. If she don’t sing any better than she marries we earnestly hope she won’t come West. —Burlington Hawkeije. Many persona have been thrown into spasms on being suddenly surprised. Still we are willing to take the chances on being surprised by some one coming in suddenly UWI paying his subscription. —Paris Beacon. A swarm of l>eos administered a stinging rebake to a train-load of passengers in the neighborhood of Chicago the other day. The train went through the swarm and the swarm went through the train.— Boston Post. Doctors are agreed that there is not only a suicidal wave sweeping over the country at certain seasons, but that it is always followed by a mania for writing poetry. Couldn’t it be arrangod to have the mania come first? TIS now the hunter takes hLs gun— Tho fields he rambles over, KVom i arly dawn to Bet of sun. In search of snipe and plovor. A gloomy, disappointed wight, A bauaag d hand caressing. Returns ho sadly home at night, With several fingers missing. —Sortiervilte Journal. “You are not looking well.” “I’m not feeling well, either.” “What’s the matter?” “I had a fearful nightmare last night. You know that my wife owned a pug dog, and tho cussed brute died.” “Yes." “Well, I dreamed it had come to life again.”— Texas Siftings. “There’s something the matter with this lemonade; I guess your lemons must have been too ripe.” “Oh, no,” replied the waiter; “the lemons are all right. It may be the ice; a little stale, perhaps.” “Ice stale?” “Yes, sir; been kept since lost winter, you know.” Customer drinks in silence. The Sheriffs in Arkansas have a very sad time of it. During the last six months no less than nine logally convicted murderers were taken from the hands of the Sheriffs and hung by pub-lic-spirited mobH. As the Sheriffs get S3O for each and every execution, they are naturally indignant at tho competition of the mobs. — Texas Siftin gs. THE BITER BITTEN. Big brown eyes and auburn hair. Or such was tho farmer's daughter, How to flirt and urs her eyes No one had ever taught her. A soft mustache, and a handsome face. Of such was the banker's son, He thought he'd teach this ohlld to flirt For tho sake of a little fun. Alas! he found to ids dismay Just when 'twa* time to part, While he was teaching her to flirt, Bho'd robbed him of his heart. —Life. “Mamma,” said a little girl, “do all wicked people go to tho bad plaoe?” “Yob, dear.” “Andall tho good people go to lioaven?” “Ye,s.” “Ain’t some people wickeder than other people?” “Yes, I suppose they are.” “Well, I think that the people who aro not so very, very wicked ought to go to the bod place only in the winter-time.”— New London Day. “WnAT is the chief difference between the newspapers of to-day and thoso of the olden time?” recently asked a rising young journalist of a superannuated newspaper-man. "The apparent Jack of fires to be reported,” was the veteran’s response, “Conflagrations there are in plenty, with holocausts, and to spare; but the plain, old-fashioned fire seems to have had its day."— Buffalo Express. “My labors, so far, have only been partially successful,” said a returned missionary. “Many of the poor heathen seemed disposed to accept the doctrines of Christianity, but are loath to give up the practice of caunibalism. ” “Rather difficult to reconcile the two,” was a comment made. “Yes, they are somewhat antagonistic, but ultimately I hope to eradicate cannibalism entirely. Although I have been able to convert a large number to the extent of saying grace before meat.”—New York Sun.