Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 August 1886 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

End-hen— Adventists. A common by-word—Hl pass. Maids in waiting those beyond twenty-five. The barber can be relied on for data in the making up of “crop” reports.— Yonkers Gazette. Thebe are few disappointments in life equal to that experienced by a man who expects that he is going to sneeze and suddenly discovers that he can’t. “Keep going straight ahead,” says a writer. This is all very well, but when there is a bulldog in the path we would rather go round him.— Boston Courier. THE KIND OF A MAN TO HAVE. A husband? No -woman e'er had a better, And happiness gilds his life; He never forgets to mail a letter That’s given him by his wife. —Boston Courier. Young Babsteb is just learning Greek and has nearly mastered the alphabet. He said it was no wonder Homer was blind if be bad to read his own poetry in such outlandish type.— Lynn Union. Said a young lady to a female friend: “Why do you use two kinds of paper in writing your love letters ?” When I write to Jim 1 use red paper, because that means love, and when I write to Tom I use blue paper, for that means faithfulness.” At Lake Nyassa, Africa, a man can be bought for forty yards of white cotton cloth. This is certainly very reasonable ; in this country it sometimes takes several thousand dollars and a lot of telephone stock to buy a man, and then he may go back on you just before Congress adjourns.— Estelline. Bell. “No,” said the henpecked husband, as he scratched his bald head, “I am not v believer in Mormonism, not by a long chalk.” “Why not?” asked the Mormon sympathizer with whom h& was conversing. “Because,” replied the henpecked man, “I don’t believe in a man having two wives. ‘No man can serve two masters. ’ ” HEB LITTLE HAND. Her little hand, so soft and white, Like an imprisoned bird to night I held within my own. The beauteous maid I long had wooed, And for that little hand had sued Till hope had almost flown. At last in mine it trembling lay, I felt its fluttering pulses play A soundless melody; For liberty it scarcely fought, It was a prisoner, I thought, That wished not to be free. The trembling captive I caressed, The velvet lingers softly pressed, While her fair face I scanned; Then, as her color rose and fell, What joy was mine to hear her tell I’d won the little hand! Oh! little hand, so soft and white, Whose touch cau thrill me with delight, Oh I will it ever be That that fair hand, with satin skin, Armed witn a broom or rolling-nin, Will terrors have for me? A Philadelphia inventor predicts that the time is soon coming when the type-setting machine will be perfected and in use in all printing offices. The Philadelphia man is not far from right. Prof. Clamp, of Estelline, some time ago became interested in the matter and has labored on it to some purpose. He had but little difficulty in constructing a machine that would set type perfectly from the most complicated manuscript, and soon found that by the addition of a couple of cams and a thingumbob it could be used to write editorials. He had some trouble in getting it so that it would collect the bills and put ils feet on the desk, but has finally succeeded. He does not hope to get it so it will pay the bills. Alter offi e hours, by touching a spring it will turn out affidavits about the circulation till stopped. One of the most interesting sights in connection with Prof. Clamp’s invention is, when two of them are working together, to see one of them stop and attempt to bon ow a chew of tobacco of the other, and being unsuccessful turn around and strike the editor for some. Few editors can look on this without shedding tears. The Professor expects to realize a fortune from his invention, and is confident that sales will boom right up to the h'gliest notch as soon as it is understood that each machine is required to sign the temperance pledge before it leaves the shop.— Estelline Bell.