Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 December 1884 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

When a boy of 18 runs away with a girl of the same age the proceedings may be called a verdant slope. I\ this country the home rule is usually the housewife, while at school it is the ferrule.— Carl Pretzel's Weekly. Boxing-matches are becoming more frequent, and the cry of the lovers of pugilism is: “Dinna ye hear the sluggin’?”

There is not a single lawyer among the 1,000 convicts in the Virginia Penitentiary. Virginia lawyers seldom get found out. Instead of saluting your silveryhaired friend as “an old dog,” why not address him as a “grayhound?”— Carl Pretzel's Weekly. Said a servant, presenting herself to a London housekeeper, “I’m a hagnostic, if you please, ’m, but no objection to a Christian family!” A LITTLE boy complained to his mother that the teacher couldn’t remember his name. “When she speaks to me,” he says, “shealways calls me Silence. ” A Philadelphia clergyman says the horse-race is “an open door to heil. It is inferred that the reverend gentleman bet on the wrong horse.— Norristown Herald. “Do cats think?” queries a writer. Yes, they sometimes think that the man up in the window with the nightcap on is a mighty poor shot with a bootjack.

A fashion item says: “A polonaise for dinner is cut square.” Every one to his taste, of course, but we want no polonaise for our dinner, no matter how it is cut. We’d just as lief eat a princess overskirt on toast.

“What is more awful to contemplate,” said the lecturer, glaring about him, “than the relentless power of the maelstrom?” And a hen-pecked looking man in the rear of the building softly replied, “The femalest:om.” A great Irish orator and wit was asked what an Irish friend of his, who had just arrived iD London, could mean by putting out his tongue. “I suppose he’s trying to catch the English accent,” said the wit. “Fellow-citizens,” said an orator, standing on a barrel amid the glare and smoke of many torches, “my position upon this question is a peculiar one.” And just then, when the barrel caved in and let him down in the shape of a letter V, gripped by the neck and heels, the crowd rather thought it w r as. “Pa, you will have to give my teacher a talking to,” said Johnny Fizzletop, on his return from school. “What has he been doing?” “Just look at my certificate. It is worse than last week’s. He will keep right on giving me bad certificates unless you say something to him about it. He needs taking down a peg or so.”— Texas Si]tings.

“For heaven’s sake, what are you doing, Mr. Schneidervrow?” exclaimed the leader of the orchestra to the second violin; “you’re not keeping time at all; count the beats, man, count the beats.” Mr. Schneidervrow dropped his bow, looked over the audience of deadheads and exclaimed in despair: “It vas impossible !” He had misapprehended the leader’s meaning.— Boston Transcript. Two sportsmen were on a journey on a hot summer’s day. “Have you anything with you, John?” “Yes, a bottle of wine! And what have you got?” “A dry tongue.” “Good; then we’ll divide our provisions.” “Very good, begin.” John drew his bottle of wine out of his wallet, and its contents were honorably divided. After this had been done, John wiped his mouth, and asked his fellow-traveler to bring forth his provisions. “I?” answered the other. “Why, yes; your dry tongue: ” “I haven’t got a dry tongue any more," was the little comforting answer.

COMIMG CP TO THE SCRATCH. The light of her eyes was a shining blue, The cast of her lips a ruby red; • And this was a'l that he thought to do, As he placed his hand on her well-poised head To steal one long, transient kiss; And he bended overward on hw toes, But all the remembrance of his bliss Is the scars of finger-nails on his nose. —Cherubusco People. I TOLD YOU SO. Again he's here. With fiendish leer. The fellow wr.om you a 1 doth know; In manntr wise He winks his eyes And sweetly says, “I told you so." We'll get "a club. And, rub-a-dub. We’ll mash him with a mighty blow. Let s hang him high! He ought to die— The wretch who says, “1 told you so.” —New York Journal.