Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 July 1891 — HUMOR. [ARTICLE]

HUMOR.

Why He Felt Flue. “What’s the matter, old man?" he said, as they met ihe morning after. “You look blue.” “I feel blue.” “But last night you were the jollies ; member of the party.” “I felt jolly.” “You acted like a bov just out oi 1 school.” “I felt like one.” * “You said your wife had gone away for the first time in three years, and there wasn’t any one to say a word if you went home and kicked over the mantel clock.” “I remember it.” “You said that if you stayed out until 4 o’clock there was no one to look at. you reproachfully and sigh and make yon feel mean.” •‘Yes; I stayed out until 4 o’clock, didn’t I?” “You certainly did." “And I gave an Indian warwhoop on the doorstep ?” “Yes; and you samj a verse from a comic-opera song andTtried to dance a clog.” “And my wife had missed the train. Now go away and leave me. I want to kick myself a little more for not taking tbe precaution to get an affidavit from tbe conductor that she went with the train.” Don’t Kick. Though the weather be wet And your clothing be mussed, Be a brick; Don’t grumble and fret. For the rain, don’t forget, Is laying the dust. Don’t kick. Though the weather be hot And boiled be your blood Till’tis thick, * Be content with your lot, For the sunshine is what Is drying the mud. Don’t kick. Speaking of the shifting weather, Tell you what I wish you’d do: Wish you’d inform me whether It is | j. enough for you.

Western .Nerve While in Topeka, Kan., last woek, I witnessed a singular exhibition of nerve on tbe part of a tramp, said a commercial traveler the other day. A ratber seedy-looking individual entered a restaurant at which I was dining and ordered a very elaborate meal. After eating it with great relish he took his check, walked to the cashier’s desk, and coolly informed him that he had no money. The cashier put his hand to a shelf under the desk, produced a pistol, and ordered the man to pay. “What’s that?” the tramp asked, pointing to the pistol. “That, sir,” answered the cashier, “is a revolver. ” An expression of relief came over the man’s face as he replied: “Oh, I don’t care a straw for a revolver! I thought it was a stomach pump. Good-afternoon.” And he walked out and disappeared around the corner before the astonished cashier could rally from his surprise. Not a Success as a Dictionary* Tommy (in search of information) — Mr. Knowitall, what does ‘copyright’ you see printed in books mean? Mr. Knowitall—Ahem—ahem. Copyright, my little boy, means—means. Well, you know copy is what the writer hands the printer and copy write means he had to write the copy before they could print it. Now, run away and don’t bother. The ‘-Ramoment Che -se.” Some years ago, when ’s axle grease was a new thing on the market, a drummer was showing it to a grocer in one of the Southern States. While lauding the merits of the stuff a negro entered the store and, after looking over the lot for a while, said to the drummer: “Boss, am that cheese?" “It is, and finer than silk,” was the reply the darky received. “What am cheese wuss, boss?” “Ten cents.” After a moment’s hesitation the man turned to the grocer and said; “Massa White, would you frow in a few crackus if I buy dat cheese?” “Certainly, Sam,” was tbe reply. After producing the dime the sable son of Ethiopa took the cheese (?) and tbe crackers and sat down outside the store to have a feast. He spread the stuff on good and thick and seemed to relish it very much. After watching him for a time the drummer and the merchant went out and said to him: “How.does it go, Sam?” “Well,” was the answer, “them crackus is pow’ful fine, but Massa White, this- am de ransomtest cheese dis nigga eber seed.” Great Luc't. First pickpocket—Bill was over to Philadelphia the other day. Second pickpocket—Did he do any business ? “Got his band into a banker’s pocket.” “What luck did he have ?” “Fustrate; got his hand back."