Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 February 1885 — HUMOR [ARTICLE]

HUMOR

The song of the mill is always hop-per-tune. The latest returns—husband getting home from the club. Nothing is impossible to him who wills—unless he is a married man. It is because ignorance is bliss that courting is so much pleasure to young people. “Suites to the sweet,” as the man said when he took his young wife to live in a flat. A rural obituary relates that “the deceased had accumulated a little money and ten children. ” • When a boy of 18 runs away with a girl of the same age the proceeding may be called a verdant slope. A woman at Pekin, HL, has fingernails an inch long. Her husband goes creeping around as if he was walking on tacks. The reason that it is not good to borrow a husband is because “it is not good for man to be a-lone.”— Texas Siftings. Soft blue were her eyes and lustrous, Her breath was the breeze of the South. He kissed that flirt on the forehead. And got a bang in the mouth. *, “How does the milk get into the cocoanut ?” asks a subscriber. It does not get intoait at all; the cocoanut grows around the milk. Ask us a hard one.— Burlington Hawkeye. We are willing to take a certain amount of stock in the newspaper accounts of Western cyclones, but, when an Arkansaw paper tells about a zephyr carrying a bedquilt sixty-one miles and then going back for the sheet, we aren’t there.— Ex. Gentleman—Ah, Patrick I Warm this morning. Guess the young people won’t get much skating to-day. See how wet the ice is. Patrick—Never ye fear, sorr; jist wait till tlie sun gets a little hoigher and the oice will soon dry off. ■ , Passenger to conductor —Look here, aren’t we behind time ? Conductor — Yes, sorter. Passenger—Then why don’t you run faster ? Conductor—Because we are waiting for two men and a boy to catch up. Passenger—What for? Conductor—They are going to rob the train.— Arkansaw Traveler. An eminent savant wa introduced at an evening party to a rather pert young lady. “O, Mr. ,” she said, “I am delighted to meet you. I have so long wished to see you. “Well,” said the man of science, “and pray what do you think of me now that you have seen me?” “You may be very dever,” was the answer, “but you are nothing to look at.” Thebe’s the girl with the smiling face. The girl wltii the witching eye; There’s the girl with the stately grace. And the girl that ;s modest and shy; There’s the girl with the winning air, The girl that’s reserved and cold; T litre’s the girl with the curly hair, And the girl that is rather old; There’s the girl that is grand and tall. The grl with the dimpled chin; But the girl that beats them all Is the girl that has got the tin. A lady in Coseytown discovered a mouse in the family flour-barrel. She summoned her husband, and told him to get a gun and call the dog, and station himself near the scene of onslaught. Getting up on a high chair, she commenced punching the flourbarrel with a pole. The poor mouse soon made its appearance and started across the floor, the dog immediately in pursuit. In the excitement the man fired the gun, killing the dog, and the lady fainted and fell off the chair. The man, thinking that she was dead, and fearing arrest for murder, cleared out, and has not been heard of since. The mouse escaped. “What is the population of the world, papa#” asked 6-year-old Edith, who was making up sums for herself on a new slate. “You must not interrupt me now, Edith,” said her father, who was writing at the same table. “Go to Miss Smith,” referring to the governess. Her father was not so busy, however, but that he beard and was amused by her saying, in a low tone, soon after: “I know how I can find out myself. I’ll look in the back of the geography for the United States and for Europe, and then I can add Aunt Mary’s baby and Aunt Jessie’s baby, and that will give it to me exactly.” —Ex.

In one of the schools of this city a miscnievous young American of African descent got into trouble. He had violated one of the rules, and his teacher concluded that his offense was grave enough to merit discipline at the'hands of the principal. Taking a firm hold of the young gentleman, the teacher accordingly started for the room of the dread administrator of punishment. The young chap held back, began to cry, and finally cried out, in piteous tones, “Oh, Miss , don't take me up stairs; p-l-e-a-s-e don’t. If you don’t take me up there, I’ll pray for you tonight!” She didn’t take him up.— Altoona, Tribune.