Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 May 1892 — HUMOR OF THE WEEK. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HUMOR OF THE WEEK.

STORIES TOLD BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. Many Odd, Curious, and Laughable Phases of Human Nature Graphically Portrayed by Eminent Word Artiste oi Our Own Day. Why He Liked io ClimbI remember, I remember The hickory trees so hlsrh That I would climb with hope to bag Some shellbarks on the sly. Of ourse it was a childish whim, But ah! little joy To find how Farmer Jones’ dog Could masticate a boy. —Boston Courier. Providentially Penniless. Moop—There goes Shoop. He’s the biggest dead-beat in town. Kloop—So he is. He’s done me out of money more than once. Moop—Why, I’ve saved fortunes on that fellow by not having had them! —Smith, Gray & Co.’s Monthly. Where They Differ. Dudely Canesucker 1 tell you what, Mr. Tlaintork,’the idea that there is a pwersonal devil nevah comes into my head. Mr. Plaintork—That’s just like my dog, but he never goes around howling about it.—Texas Siftings. Salaries and DutiesHe—l think we need not worry about the future. lam now getting $2,000 a year as second assistant subeditor of the Daily Blower. She—-Yes; but you are killing yourself doing two men’s work. He—l know; but before long I may be promoted and then I will get $3,000 for doing one man’s work; and if I have patience 1 will eventually reach a position where I will get $5,000 for doing nothing at all.'—New York Wpekly. Imitating the Drop Curtain. “Where are you going?” said Mrs. Murray Ilijl, as her husband started to go out at the end of tlie first act. “Oh, no place much.” he replied. “I notice that the curtain has .taken a drop, and 1 thought of doing the same thing myself.”—Texas hittings. M fir lit Have Been Worst). She—“l am very sorry our engagement must cease. I can never marry.” He—“My gracious! What has happened?” She—My brother has disgraced us. He —“Oh, is that all? That doesn’t matter. I feared may be your fatner had failed.”—New York Weekly. Too Good to Toll. Mrs. Sanger—What were you laughing at while papa was saying grace? Edith—Jus’ a joke. Mrs. Sanger—Why, Edith! what sort of a joke? Edith —A private joke. Mrs. Sanger—Can't you tell me about it? Edith —No; it was jus’ a private joke’’tween me an’ Dod.—Smith, Gray & Go’s Monthly. Who Was the Sick Man ? Clara —I don’t like these photographs. I showed them to my invalid uncle, and he says they are horrid. Photographer—Well, you can’t go by what he says; a sick man and a well man take a different view of tilings, you know. Clara —Well, then, he must have been comparatively healthy to what you were when you took those photographs. Life inPlzon Creek.

Postoflice Inspector—Sir, there are complaints by Eastern recipients of letters from this office that you cancel the stamps by shooting holes in the envelopes. Postmaster Whooper—That’s where the Eastern recipients differ from the last sneakin’ low-lived postoffice Inspector that come here. I canceled him by shootin 1 holes in him too, but he didn’t make no complaint. He was too thoroughly canceled!—Texas Siftings. A Mistaken Policy. First tramp—l say, Mike, th’ fashion of gents like me an’ you carryin’ Clubs is a mistake. Second tramp—Git out! Clubs scares people inter bein’ hospitable, don’t they? Eirst tramp—They useter; but w’en folks began ter notice our clubs they began ter keep big dogs, an’ now it takes all th’ cold vittles they has ter feed th’ dogs.—New York Weekly. A Dreadful Threat. An Austin colored man, with protruding eyes, rushed into Justice Tegener’s office and exclaimed: “I wants Col. Jones, who libs nex’ door to me, put under $1,000,000 bonds ter keep de peace. ” “Has he threatened your life?” “He has done dat berry thing. He said he war g’wine ter 1111 de nex’ niggah he found after dark in his hen-house plum’ full ob buckshot.”— Exchange.