Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 May 1886 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

The poet kindles the muse and then the editor kindles the fire with ;he productions. And now Chicago claims that pork is a brain food, being a product of thousands of Western pens.— Lowell Citizen. Harvard College has a brass band. This may account for the large number of high-toned tutors there.— Somerville Journal. Newark highwaymen prefer lead pipe to a sand-bag when they rob their victims. So does a plumber.— New York Journal. “No man can master the whole range of human knowledge,” says a writer. He forgets the Western horse-doctor. —Exte-line Bell. The man who is waiting for something to turn up will be wanting in appreciation when he turns up his toes. —Yonkers Gazette. Farmers are not much on style. They object to dados on their barns, and kick like a mule if they wake up and find a freeze on their crops. Patrick—An’ swat did Moses iver do ? Minister—He —why, he lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, and Patrick—An’ be jabers, an’ didn’t St. Patrick foire that same spalpeen of a schnake out av ould (Jireland!—Newman Independent. Editor’s Wife—John, there’s a burglar in the house. Editor —I know it; but keep still; I’ll get up as soon as he goes. E. W.—What’s the good then? E.—What’s the good? Why, great Peter! I’ll get a scoop on the other papers.— New Haven News. Everybody has some pet superstition in this world. The very man who will jeer at his wife because she believes the puerile prophecies of a for-tune-teller will shudder if he sees the new moon over the wrong shoulder, and won’t eat with thirteen at a table. —Somerville Journal. “Smith has a fine ear for music.” “Brown has a fine ear for cookery. ’’ “What are you giving us?” “Well, you just say stewed terrapin when he’s around and see how he will prick up his auricular lobes.” “Thatso.” “Then I’d rather board him by the week than the ear.”— Texas Siftings. Spring editorial in Arkansas country paper: “By this time our farmers ought to know that they are ruining themselves with cotton. Corn and wheat are neglected and our country suffers on account of it.” Autumn editorial in the same paper: “Our town ships more cotton than any town within a radius of a hundred miles. This speaks volumes for the industry and wisdom of our people. Now is the time to subscribe.”— Arkansaw Traveler. Tampering with the beard is always a dangerous experiment. An eminently respectable citizen of the North Side, who shed a winter’s growth of whiskers last week, was mistaken for a noted base-ball player within two hours afterward, and urgently entreated to pray for a sick man the following day. H s wife bankrupted a broomhandle and demoralized a new silk hat in chasing him out of the house, while his own dog tore his pants and drew blood on the calf of h’s leg, and the baby was scared so badly that it has not yet got through giving its mother the particulars about it—Chicago Ledger. a post-nuptial transformation. There was a man of knowledge deep, commanding sweep, who knew a heap, a man who studied day and night, and hardly spared the time to sleep. This man so staid he knew a maid, demure, afraid, and half dismayed, shy as the nymph of ancient myths sequestered in some sylvan shade. This maid so rare, with golden hair and modest air, so debonair, she char tied this man of teamed lore, and caught him in her witching snare. This man of thought and learned lore, his hair he tore, and o’er and o’er he loudly swore that he would cherish her for aye, and he would love her evermore. Now they are wed, in his library nooks among his books his knees he crooks, and sees his wife so seldom now that he’s forgotten how she looks. The wife to whom the man before so loudly swore he would adore forevermore lives with her mbtner, and declares her husband is a regular bore.