Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 March 1890 — BITS OF FUN. [ARTICLE]

BITS OF FUN.

A head waiter—The “next” in a | barber shop. I “Nothing is harder to bear than a long succession of pleasant days,” sighed the umbrella maker. Poor people with too many naughty boys in their families should send some of them tp a nautical school. Interviewer— What do you regard as the chief instrumentality in converting the heathen ? Returned Missionary —lndigestion. A man said the only reason why his dwelling was not blown aAvay in a late storm Avas because there was a havy mortgage on it. Doctor (feeling the patient’s pulse)— Um, um, I think I shall ha\*e to bleed you. Patient (feebly)—Can’t you wait, Doctor, till you send in your bill ? Never be critical upon the ladies. The only way in the world that a true gentleman ever will attempt to look at the faults of a pretty woman ir; to shut his eyes. Tell a woman that she looks fresh and she will smile all over. Tell a man the same thing, and if he doesn’t kick you it is either because he has corns or dares not. Lover —Don’t withhold your consent on account of my income, sir. I can support your daughter on $25 a week. Pater—Then you are a jim dandy. I never could. Mrs. Sjkinnpiilint —Jeremiah, that’s an awful cold you’ve got. Mr. Skinnphlint (crossly)—You needn’t make any fuss about it, Jane. It didn’t cost me a cent to get it. She (at the mint) —Ah, now I know, Harry, why I think yon are good as gold. He—Oh, get out! She—No; but you are, really. You are pressed for money, you know. Customer (to bartender) That’s the poorest whisky I ever tasted. Taint fit to drink. Bartender —Sorry, sir. it’s the best we’ve got. Customer—That so? Well, give me a little more of it. RETRIBUTION ON THE RAIL. Little Tommy McVail, A a he rode on the rail, Yelled for his mother to open the -winder. Fate marked him for that, For out blew his hat And into his eye blew a cinder. When Mrs. Shaller read a neAvs item stating that “a man in NeAv York threw his Avife from au upper window in a family jar,” she looked surprised, and “wondered if the man kneAv his wife was in the jar at the time.” Mrs, De Sense (to benevolent friend) —I presume these idiot asylums do some good, but I can’t see how they can hope to make idiots self-supporting. Small Son (gloomily)—I guess they set ’em to writin’ children’s books. “Look here,” said the credit man, “we can’t sell you those goods on four ■ months’ time. ” “Yy not ? I gives you my note.” “But do your notes sell on the street?” “Mine gracious! no, or I vould go home and make notes instead of cloding.” Employer “William, Mrs. Spriggins complains that she received only one of all the bundles she had put up here last night.” William—“ That’s funny, sir. I wrote Mrs. Spriggins on one bundle and put ditto on each of the others.” Mr. Sundries (to his youngest) — Noon ah, darling, wliat makes you the SAveetest baby in the Avhole wide Avorld ? Noonalv—l deth, papa, that -when God made me he mutlit have put thome thugah in the thand that I wath made of. Unfortunately Avorded; Fenderson (arguing in defense of his favorite theory that personal beauty is not woman’s chief ’attraction) — I contend that beauty has nothing to do with a young woman’s chances of getting a husband. I’ll lea\ T e it to any married woman in the room, if it is not so.