Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 November 1884 — PITH AND POINT. [ARTICLE]

PITH AND POINT.

t Easy to draw—the breath. “A woman’s reason”—because. The spirit of the p^ess —apple The kind word that toroeth away wrath ha : no practical effect in turning away a book agent. Never tell a lady that she is “plump as a partridge.” fehe wiil think that you are making game of her. « Nothing shows the remarkable bealthfulness of this country so much as the pension list . Philadelphia Call. The association of fishermen contemplate giving a series of balls next mont h. They will be fish-balls.— Carl Pretzel’s Weekly. When a bachelor says he is sing’e from choice, it makes him mad to ask him why the girl made choice of some other fellow.— Te n.< Siftings. A new stove has been invented for the comfort of travelers. It is to be put under the feet, with u mustard piaster on the head, which draws the heat through the whole system. “Business is p/etiy good,’ said an undertaker 1o au interviewer, “bat if lying was punished as it was in the days of An mi as, I would have to enlarge my works and purchase fifty more beaises.” The following is a ropy of a bill posted on the wall of a country village. “ A lecture on total abstinence will be delivered in the open air, and a collection will be made at the door, to defray expenses.” A Grand street (New York) dyer has placed the following lines over the desk in his shop : I am dyeing to live, And living to dye; The longer I live The b tier 1 dye; The mote l dye The better I live. Do sailors give their faith lull scope When they sail around Good Hope? —Govemeur Herald. Some poor sailors, to bad luck born, “Leave Hope behind.” to “double the Horn. ’* Richmond Baton. Sailors, ’tis very sad to toll, Loose all Hope at Cape Farewell. Waterloo Observer. When all is calm and the sky Is clear, No sailor fears to round Cape Fear. ’Elevatedßailway Journal The sailor hopes to Rpiioe the main braoe When sailing nor h around Capo Race. —Louisville Journal. If I were a Lumtl-tum-lum-titnm-too Iu the land of the oli.e and fig, I'd sit all day on Mm t.olle 101-l. o And play on the hingee-me-jig. And if’in the Rum )e'>-dnm battle I fall A what’s-its-name’sall that 1 crave— But bury me deep in the wiiai-y -u-may-call. And plant thingum-bobs on my grave! —BiUNye. Bo when you’ve reached the land of yum-yum And are freed from all tiouble a id work, You’ll burn your thumb on your thingee-me-jig And howl for an asbestos shi r ! Old Nick will come with h:s thingnm-bnb line To put on your do- un; y qu Us, And the 13 doctors that blistered your spine Will swell up as big as their bills. —Newman Independent.