Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 May 1887 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

The man without enemies may not ■ be much of a man, but he has a soft time of it The small boy learning the alphabet is very much like the postage-stamp—-he often gets stuck on a letter. It is a quest on whether it is better to be foolish than wise. The fool is merely laughed at; the wise man is criticised.— Boston Cpurier. “Why is a small boy like a woman?” said a New Hartford man to his troublesome wife. There was no resp&nse. “Because he will make a man grown,” said the conundrnmist More than 8,000,000 umbrellas were manufactured in this country last year. We don’t ask what has become of this vast number, but we would like to know where three of them went to. — Exchange. The man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth is now looking about for something to eat with the spoon.— Lowell Citizen. Let him try a New England doughnut. If he swallows that first the spoon will go down more easily. Omaha chambermaid—“ Wait, Mary, it isn’t time to lock up the house yet. Miss Ethel’s young man is in the parlor.” Omaha kitchen-girl—“ He’s gone, Sarah. ” “Did you hear the front door shut?” “No, but the parlor gas is turned up again.”— Omaha World. There was a missionary concert at a Rockland church and among other things was along paper on missionary work by a young lady. When she had finished, the leader of the meeting said, “We will now sing ‘ Hallelujah, ’tis done.’ ” Whereat everybody smiled. “I can say one thing in favor of this good boy,” remarked Mr. Dirchem, proudly patting his favorite pupil on the summit of his cranium: “He never takes the last piece of bread and butter on the plate.” “No, indeed, sir,” cordially asserted the fool of the school. “He ain’t quick enough!” Coal-dealer—Where’s John? Driver —He staid up to Mr. Brown’s. Coal-dealer —Why on earth did he do that? Doesn’t he know we’re shorthanded ? Driver—l suppose he does, sir, but he said he was weighed in with his load, and he had an idea he belonged to Mr. Brown.— Harper’s Bazar. Father (to family physician)---“lsn’t George Sampson a relative of yours, Doctor?” Family physician—“ Yes, he is a nephew.” Father—“He wants my daughter Clara, but I gave him to understand that she wouldn’t get any of my money until after my death." Family physician—“ That was right. George was asking about your health 'to-day.”— Harp r's Lazar. There was an old man lived up in the mountains for many years. The village people close by all knew him, as they thought, intimatelv. One day he came into the village looking very sad. They asked him what was the matter. “Waal,” he said, “I do feel kinder sad.” “What has happened?” “I’ve been to a funeral.” “A luneral! Whose was it? Some relative ?” “Waal, you might call it so. It was she that were my wife.” And that was the first they knew that he had ever been married.—San Fran is o Chronicle. Omaha man—“So you belong to the noted Sorosis Society?” New York miss—“Yes, I was one of the original members.” “Let me see. It’s twenty years now since that society was started ” “Dear me, so it is; but you must not forget that the original members were infants when it began.” “Infants! Really, I have an idea it was an independent pio vein ent of some sprt.” “O, it was. You see, its formation was the result of a rebellion on the part of the girl babies who didn’t want to be weaned.”— Omaha World.