Democratic Sentinel, Volume 13, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 April 1889 — SELECTED PIGOTTISMS. [ARTICLE]

SELECTED PIGOTTISMS.

Venetian blinds—ltalian counts. An actor works h’ardest in “play” time. A symphony to a comic song naturally does symfunny. When the pantry door’s unlocked the small boy gets his desserts. Blobson—l understand that Borer has gone South for the rest of the winter. Popinjay—Yes, and for the rest of the community too. She (looking up from paper)—Well, truth is stanger than fiction. He (throw--ing paper on ground)—Yes! and a darned sight rarer. Racing man (meeting sporting prophet)—l say, old man, you’d make a tine prize cue for a billiard handicap. Sporting prophet (rather pleased)— How so? Racing man—Because your tip never comes off. It is a mistake to paint sin too alluring and attractive. It makes young people want some. As a matter of fact sin is ugly and full of misery and pain, no matter how it may be colored or sugar-coated. New 'Means Picayune. His Lordship—lt was jolly enough; but—er—but what a beastly crowd. The scum of Europe I should fay. Mrs. F.—The scum of Europe! They are the elite of New York! His Lordship —What’s the difference if you only go back a little? Customer (in confectionery store) — Have you any kisses ?Busy dealer—Yes, sir. Which kind, Baltimore or Boston? “Give me two dozen Boston.” “Y'es, sir. William, two dozen Boston kisses. Don’t forget, William, to close the refrigerator.” Miss J ones—How good of you, Doctor, to come to talk with me! Doctor— O, not at all. I have listened to so much clever talk this evening that it will be quite a relief and a rest to listen to you, Miss Jones, I assure you.— Harper's Bazar. Burke—TimDeasey’s goin’ to marry thot Dutch ger-rl he met cornin’ over. Dempsey—ls thot so? How th’ devil did he ax her, phin she don’t speak his language ? Burke—Sure he jist made believe t’ump her over th’ head wid a bit av a cudgle, an’ she understhood him at wanst.

Doctor—What, drinking beer again, contrary to my strict orders ? Didn’t I tell you that every glass was a nail in your coffin? “I can’t give it up, Doctor, that’s a fact, and so 1 have been saying to myself: ‘What does it matter when you are dead and gone if your coffin looks like a hedgehog ?’ ” “You had a good time in Chicago, Samantha?” “Did I? I should say so! We stopped at the Commerc ill Hotel, and went down on the cultivator to ■ every meal.” “And did you see the theaters ?” “I ingested that to Absalom, but he insisted on driving me instead in a spanking team.” “Where did you go?” “Oh! all aiound the beauregards.”—Chicago Ledger. “I say,” said Berkey to hii wife yesterday at dinner, “you didn’t say anything to any one about what I was telling you the night before last, did you? That’s a secret.” “A secret! Why, I didn’t know it was a secret,” t he replied, regretfully. “Well, did you tell it? I want to know.” “Why, no, I never thought of it since. I didn’t know it was a secret.”— Boston Globe. HE IS COMING. He is coming, brother journalists, a hundred thousand strong, We hear his dithyrambic tread the vernal coast along. We hear him spatter countless odes against our office door And well we know we’ve wrestled with his virus oft before. Get out the mammoth “Balaam-bag,” forewarn the garbage man, Load up the blunderbuss and fill the gallon powder can, For list the largo iambic feet of him, the fiend of song, The vernal poet’s coming, gents, one hundred thousand strong. A BusiNESS-lookiug woman came into a lawyer’s office and announced to the disciple of Gambrinus—beg pardon, Blackstone: “I want to get a divorce. How long will it take?” “If you have good grounds, I can have you fixed up in about twenty minutes, I guess,” answered the lawyer. “What is your plea?” “Desertion. I sent him down town this morning ” “This morning?” “Yes. To match some ribbon. .He went away 'mad, and swore he wouldn’t come back until he matched it, so I know I’ll never see him again.”— Terre Haute Express.