Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 March 1885 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

Thebe are always fore feet in stock yards. Most people like to feel stove up in cold weather. Allopathic doctors consider drugs a physic-all necessity. An exchange tells x>f a “wide-awake policeman.” Had too much dinner, poor fellow! The French way of spelling Stephen is, “E-t-i-e-n-n-e.” The French are a brave people, but they can’t spell worth a cent. Some of the coffee served nowadays is so weak that it looks shameful for the strong, active digestive organs to tackle the poor helpless thing. • “Mamma,” asked little Carrie, “can you tell me what part o$ heaven people live in who are good, but not agreeable?”—Rehoboth Sunday Herald. The wools are vaunt, the fields are brow*, And sorrow fills our cup. For, as the mercury iroe.s down. The price ot coal voea up. - Boston Courier. Th: Nast is going to lecture. We breathe a fervent prayer that, for the sake of Mr. Nast's family, he will draw better than he has for the last year.— Buffalo Express. A New York florist, in laying down bouquet regulations, remarks: “If you send a bouquet to adorn the house, it should be in a basket or a majolica vase, the latter having the advantage of being pretty to preserve after the flowers fade.” He forgot to add* that it should be sent in a herdic. “Does not the practical joking of some of your scholars annoy you at times, Mr. Blackboard?” “Verymuch. I have always had an abhorrence of practical jokes in any form, but to some of the pranks played by the boys—such as placing bent pins in my chair, for instance—my dislike is particularly deep seated.’’—New York Times. Fair Caller—You see, I wanted to work Mr. Chasuble a pair of slippers, and I thought you might lend me one of his old shoes to get his size. Curate’s Landlady—Law, Miss! the shoes is all a given out four days ago, and it was only yesterday morning a lady as had heer’d his shoes was all bespoke, come here a imploring of me to let her measure the wet marks in the reverend gentleman’s bathroom immejiately he had gone out. KENTUCKY LOVE LYRIC. IVith one mad jump A great big lump Sprang up into his wizen; A long air thrill His B.ul did fill As he wished that she was his'n. She also gazed In manner dazerl, Herheait w.ta love aid burn; She ; d che rful give Her right to live If he was on. her’n. —Exchange. Capped the climax: An Englishman, a Frenchman, and an American were discussing the merits of painters of their respective countries. The American, after listening to all the others had to advance in favor of their countrymed, remarked: “Wall, yes, I guess they did some tall painting; but there was a young fellow in our village, and he got a piece of marble and painted it like cork, and darn me if it didn’t float.”— Augusta Chronicle. O, SAY can you see, by the dawn’s earlv light, What you failed to perceive at the twilight’ last gleaming; A cranky concern that through the lone night. O’er the bed where you sleep, was so saucily streaming? The silk patches so fair, Round, three-cornered, and square, Give proof that the lunatic bed-quilt is there. O, the crazy-quilt mania triumphantly raves. And maid, wife, and widow are-bound as its slaves. “See here, Mr. Man, I hear that you are flirting with my wife, and if you don’t stop it I’ll break your neck.” “Flirting with your wife! I’m neither flirting with her nor want to do so. I don’t-like her well enough for that. ” “You don’t? I’d like to know why you don’t. She’s just as nice a woman as there is in town, and I don’t want you to be tellin’ me that she hain’t good enough for you to like. You’ve got to like her just as well as any other woman, or I’ll know why, and don’t you forget it.” The angry husband then walked away swearing vengeance because Mr. Mau didn’t like his wife. Some men can’t be pleased any way. DOT FUNNY LITTLE BABY. Droo as I love! most every day I laugh me vild to see de vay Dat shmall young baby dry to play, Dot funny ifttle baby! Ven I looke of dem little toes, Und see dot funny little nose, Uud hear de vay dot rooster crows, 1 schmile like I vas crazy! He pulls my nose and kicks my hair, Und crawls me over everywhere, Und slobbers me, but vat I care? Dat vas my schmall young baby. Around my neck dot little arm Vas squeezing me so nice und varm. Oh, may dere never come some harm To dot schmall little baby! —iakob Strauss.