Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 February 1887 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

Neveb write secrets with a quill pen ; it might split. Fresh toe martyrs—the youths who buy tight boots. Nothing tries the sole of a man more than a shoe-peg. Ticket Agent—You don’t expect those two boys to go on one ticket ? She—Of course I do. It’s a twin. Wise—ls I should ever die, would you really marry again ? Husband— Never, never! What do you take me for? “Public office is public trust,” and that is just the reason that some men with poor credit cannot get it.—Boston Post. The man who lectures on the benefits of physical exercise takes the elevator when he might climb a flight of stairs.— New Orleans Picayune. Judge (to the plaintiff)—Who was present when the defendant knocked you down? Plaintiff—l was.—Chicago Saturday Evening Herald. “I will now quit fooling,” said the physician as he wrote out a prescription, “and proceed to business.” Then he made out his bill .—Philadelphia Call. It is said that Wall street brokers are fond of molasses candy. Perhaps that is the reason everything they get hold of sticks to their hands.— Boston Post. The man who had his ear bitten off in a fracas in New York the other night, no doubt thinks it useless for any one to wish him a happy new’ear.— Boston Courier. Emerson was immensely practical. His imitators should remember that he never thought so much of the OverSoul as to forget the overshoe.—Boston Jttecord. Italy wants to borrow 3,500,000 lires. As this is a very busy season with newspaper correspondents we aro afraid this country can’t oblige her.— Burlington Free Press. “A princess of, the realm is employed as a waiter in a Milan hotel.” That’s nothing. We know of a mlk dairy where the waiters all are empresses—at least they think they are.— Puck.

Johnny—l will tell you a secret if you won’t tell. Sister Emily is engaged to Mr. White. I heard mamma and sis talking about it. The secret is that he doesn’t know it himself yet.— Life. “Do the clothes make the man ?” an exchange anxiously asks. It is a somewhat hard question to answer, but we should say in the case of a tailor, for instance, that it is the man who makes the clothes. —Boston Courier. Doctor—What ails you, sir? Patient—l don’t know, boctor. I have such a buzzing sound in my ears all the time. Would you like to look at my tongue? Doctor—No, never mind. Bring your wife around some day. I’d like to look at hers. Smith —What’s the matter with you, J ones ? You have had a troubled look recently. Nothing the matter with your mental balance, I hope? Jones— No, there’s nothing the matter with my mental balance. It’s another balance that is troubling me now.

“A country parson,” in encountering a storm the past season in the voyage across the Atlantic, was reminded, oi the following: A clergyman was so unfortunate as to he caught in a severe gale in the voyage out. The water was exceedingly rough, and the ship persistently buried her nose in the sea. The rolling was constant, and at last the good man got thoroughly frightened. He believed they were destined for a watery grave. He asked the captain if he could not have prayers. The captain took him by the arm and led him down to the forecastle, where the tars were singing and swearing. •“There,” said he, “when you hear them swearing you may know there is no danger.” He want back feeling better; but the storm increased his alarm. Disconsolate and unassisted, he managed to stagger to the forecastle again. The ancient mariners were swearing as eves. “Mary,” he said to his sympathetic wife, as he crawled into his berth after tacking across a wet deck, “Alary, thank God, they’re swearing yet.”— Harper’s Magazine.