Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 June 1885 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

Sabcasm between friends is a chasm not easily bridged over. Avoid it, or it will at last become as wide as the earth, and as deep as the grave. —Chicago Sun. “The face is the play-ground of the sonl,” but, like a little child, there are many souls that would prefer to play in the dirt.— Newman Independent. When a printer asks his best girl to give him a proof of her love she locks her form np in his m-brace and he puts his imprint on it. —Carl Pretzel's Weekly. Jesse McHenry came home at a late hour, and in his usual condition. “You are just out of the saloon. Now, don’t you deny it,” said his wife. “It ain’t my fault, ” responded the wretched inebriate ; “I’d have been there yet if the proprietor hadn’t closed up.” —Texas Siftings. A GOOD REASON. Why does she hold her head so high And look so supercilious, And pass the other maidens by As if they made her bilious? Well may she proudly walk the street, The while her pride increases; Her crazy quilt is just complete Made of ten thousand pieces. —Boston Courier.

“A Boston girl is going to marry Prof. Edmunds, one of the men who devised zone standard time. ” The marriage may be a happy one if some fiendish paragrapher doesn’t rush in with the remark that the Professor is anxious to call her his zone.— Exchange. The young ladies of a Pennsylvania town have formed a “Popping the Question Society.” After a seasonable term of membership a young lady will become competent to prompt the faltering swain who sets out to propose for her hand.— Exchange. "They talk about a woman’s sphere As though it had a limit; Thera’s not a place in earth #r heaven. There’s not a task to mankind given. The e's not a blessing or a woe, There's not a whispered yes or no, There’s not a life, or death, or birch, That has a feather’s weight of worth. Without a woman in it."

A young Bostonian, who recently went up among the hills of Vermont to get? married to a farmer’s daughter, was taken to task by the old man as follows: “Now, Jeems, this ’ere match was kinder brought about by you and Susie, and I’ve had no chance to say anything to you. How much are you worth?” “Well,” replied Jeems, after some hesitation, “putting it on the basis of Western Union at 57 I am worth $30,000.” “Stop! young man—stop right thar!” exclaimed the old man. “I want a sounder basis than that! Jist figger on turnips at 75 cents a bushel and see what your value amounts to!” —Wall Street News. On the other hand, the beast of prey hints that there are too many lunch fiends about the establishment, and that something should be done to eradicate them; and then he says, “give me another big slice of that beef; the last was a little too fat, and a few more potatoes and gravy, plenty of gravy, if you please; and another plate of bread, and plenty of vermicelli. It is healthy, a little of it is, and some salad. You ought to have more vegetables and fish, or oysters, like they do at the other saloon, and a fresh napkin. I can’t eat much now, as I ate a late breakfast, and I am going home to dinner. Just want a mere bite to stay my stomach,” and finally when he takes his temporary leave he does it with the air of a prince abdicating the throne.— Arkansaw Traveler.

AMALGAMATION. Amalga was a chieftain bold, The bravest or his clan. In legend quaint his praise is told. For m the glorious days of old He was a mighty man. There came a maid, ah! fair was she, But doletul was her state: “Alas! though he care not for me," She sung in mournful melody, “I would Amalga mate.” Then said the warrior: “Single bliss Has been much overrated," And pressing on her lips a kiss. This dainty mediaeval miss Straightway Amal.a mated. O, lady mine, he ne’er did rue Him of his captivation; Be mine his joy -I love but you— And each to each we’ll e’er be true. In sweet amalgamation. —Puck.