Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 86, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 April 1910 — JOLLY JOKER [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

JOLLY JOKER

Jp! ' “Did you ever hear Gadby say anything particular about me?” “No; he never was particular what he said about you.”—Stray Stories. “Good heavens! What is the matter?” “The people on the second story have gone away and left their autopiano playing.”—Fllegende Blaetter. Mistress —Anna, you’ve been wearing my patent leather shoes again. Anna —So sorry, ma’am, but I always mistake them for my rubbers. —Meggendorfer Blaetter. Willie—Ma, can’t I go out on the street for a little while? Tommy Jonea says there’s a comet to be seen. Moth-er-Well, yes; but don’t you go too near.—Boston Transcript. “Do you give your wife an allowance?” “Yes.” “How much do you allow her?” “Don’t you think it ia rather impertinent for you to ask what my salary is?”—Houston Post. “But why do you put yout friend’s things in the dining room?” “Oh, he is so used to restaurants that he won’t enjoy his dinner unless he can watch his hat and coat.”—Louisville CourierJournal. Motorist—As it is my fault that you were upset, I will make good your damage at once. How much do you want? Victim—How much does the gracious gentleman usually pay?—Fliegende Blaetter. Post Office Clerk—You’ve put two penny stamps on your letter. The postage is only one penny. Old Irishman —Sure, niver mind. My son’s in the post office, so it’ll all help towards his wages.—Tit-Bits. “Died in poverty!” cried the philosopher, scornfully. “Died in poverty, did he, an’ you expect me to sympathize? Gorstrooth, what is there in dying in poverty? I’ve got to live in it.” —Sporting Times. Hubby—l’m really quite proud of you. You’ve actually saved some money out of your allowance. Wife— Yes. It was so simple! I wish I had thought before to have things charged. —Chicago Daily News. Miss Sweet—lt is just the sort of engagement ring I preferred. None of my others were nearly so pretty. How thoughtful of you! George—Not at all, dear. This 1s the ring I have always used.—Kansas City Journal. “Yes, I was fined SSOO for putting coloring matter in artificial butter," “Well, didn’t you deserve it?” “Perhaps. But what made me mad was that the judge who imposed the fine had dyed whiskers.” —Cleveland Leader. “She’s going on the stage.” “Is that so? She can’t sing, and I never-saw her act.” “I know, but that’s all she can do. Her husband deserted her, and she never learned to work at anything before she married.”—Detroit Free Press. “Please, ma’am,” said the servant “there’s a poor man at the door with wooden legs.” “Why, Mary,” answered thejmistress, in a reproving tone, “what can we do with wooden legs? Tell him we don’t want any.”—Lippincott’s Magazine. “Well, here I am,” announced the fashionable physician in his breezy way. “And now what do you think is the matter wjth you?” “Doctor, I hardly know," murmured the fashionable patient. “What is new?” —Louisville Courier-Journal. “I am told that King Edward sends a daily message to his chef complimenting him on his dinner.” “Yes,” answered Mr. Crosslots, “we are all of one common humanity. Even a king has to go out of his way to jolly the cook.” —Washington Star. Visitor —It must be a gigantic task to run a great newspaper like yours. Editor—Not at all. It’s the easiest thing in the world. Dozens of my friends as well as perfect strangers come in here every day to tell me how to run it.—Chicago Tribune. Seymour—Why did you leave Flannigan’s boarding house? ■. Ashley— There was too much sleight-of-hand work going on. Seymour—Sleight-of-hand work? Ashley—-Yes; Mrs. Flannigan got the coffee and the tea from the same pot.—Chicago News. The Judge—Did you arrest this chauffeur for speeding? The Policeman—No, yer honor; I pulled 'im in fer obstructin’ th’ road; he was goln’ thirty miles an hour, an* he was complained about by them that was riding at th’ regular rate.—Chicago News. Dying Plumber (to son) —You’ll find I ain’t bin able to leave you much money, Bill; it’s all got to go to yer mother and sisters. But I've bequeathed you that there job at Mugley’s we’ve bin at such a time. Don't ’urry over it. Bill, and It’ll always keep you out of want, anyway.—Tit-Bits. “Honey, I can’t find a retraction of that story about your sister’s elopement with the Chinese cook after poisoning her husband and forging her father’s name to a $50,000 check! Where did you see it?” "It’s inside, my dear, next to the ‘Lost and Found’ column, and about the size of a pure food label.’’—Life. •‘John—John,” whispered Mrs. Gldgely, nudging her husband. “What is it?” he sleepily asked. “There’s a burglar in the house.” “What do you want me to d<A—get up and run the risk of being killed?" "No; but if you find in the morning that somebody ha# gone through your pockets, don’t blame me.”—Chicago Record-Herald.