Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 November 1885 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

Did Mary have a little lamb, or did ewe.— Carl Pretzel's Weekly. It is highly improper to call an oleomargarine joke a chestnut. It is a butternut.— Washington Hatchet. A good happy tight don’t improve the appetite.— Marathon Independent. If an ordinary man was muscled like a flea he could throw a book agent >two miles.— Chicago Ledger. An exchange says that a woman who eats onions will keep a secret. She will also keep a man at a distance.—Chicago Ledger. A poet asks: “What is warmer than a woman’s love?” We infer that he never picked up a newly coined horseshoe, fresh from the forge.—Norristown Herald. Beauty is not confined to one particular rank in life, nor yet is homeliness, but we want somebody to tell us of a young lady with $ million in her own right who hasn’t a good figure.— Fall River Advance.

Whenever you see a young lady who wears a tearful, agonized look, do not for a moment think that she has lost a dear friend or suffered any great affliction. She probably wears tight shoes. —Brooklyn Times. A great many people seem to think that Adam had a hard time after the fall, but they fail to remember how the wind was tempered to the shorn lamb in the blissful felicity Adam enjoyed in never having a mother-in-law.— St. Paul Herald.

“Did not the sight of the boundless blue sea,bearing onjits bosom the whitewinged fleets of commerce, fill you with emotion?” “Yes,” replied the traveler, “for a while it did, but after a while it didn’t fill me with anything. It sorter emptied me.”— Texas Siftings. “Mr dear,” remonstrated a wife, peering out from under the bedclothes, “I do wish you would use the word.‘shoel.’ It sounds better.” “It may sound better at times,” replied her husband, who was noisily nursing his heel, “but when a man steps on a tack he wants the old version.— New York Sun. Miss B.—l wish that conceited fool wouldn’t annoy me so much with his attentions. I wish he’d mind his own business. Miss F.—He can’t mind his own business. Miss B.—Because he’s gotno business? Miss F.—Because he’s got no mind.— Philadelphia Call. “In London the people pray especially for editors.” Any one who has read the lengthy and heavy editorials in the Times and other London dailies, and the pointless and funereal jokes in the comic weeklies printed there, must admit that certain editors in that city badly need especial prayers. But the praying doesn’t seem to'effect a reform in this respect.— Norristoivn Herald. Smith—“ What is Brown doing now on the Item?” Jones (an editor) — “Everything, from writing poetry upto soliciting advertisements.” Smith—- “ You mean from soliciting up to writing poetry, don’t you?” Jones—“ Did you ever read any of Brown’s poetry ?” Smith—“ No.” Jones (conclusively)— “I thought not.”— Puck. “O,” said Mary Ann, the cook, in singing the glories of Ireland, “at home in me native town there are sthreets of most beaucheous corn-craik houses!” “What are corn-craik houses?” asks Gretchen, the nurse-maid. “O, the loikes of thim ignorint furriners!” groans Mary Ann. “Why, corn-craik loike the corn-craik pavements yez have here.” — Harper's Bazar. The author of a book called “Man’s Birthright” says “There is a great principle of nature which governs the relation of mankind to property; it is a fiat of the cosmos.” Now that that vital question is settled, it is hoped that he will let us know what sort of principle it is that governs those editors in this country who denounce everything American and praise everything English from a book to an iron-clad vessel. — Norristown Herald.

QUATRAINS. A Sister’s Love. A sister’s love! how sweet! ’Tis far above All other love, when it is fond and true; Ah, who can doubt it when it is the love That some one else’s sister feels for you? My Lady’s Failing. My lady’s voice is melody to me, There’s music in the rustle of her skirts, But what avails it all, alas I when she Is the most incorrigible of flirts. Supererogatory. Don’t kick a man when he is down, for know That justice may demand some reparation ; Besides, who deals a prostrate man a blow, Performs a work of supererogation. A Valuable Maxim. Where’er your lot is cast your duty do; The man is happy who is well behaved; The breezes never through the whiskers blew Of any man whose cheeks were closely Shaved. The Man Who Has Credit. He’s happy who makes payments as he goes, Whom never fear of creditor e’er haunts; But happier is the man who always owes And still gets all the credit that he wants. —Boston Courier.