Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 163, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 July 1912 — Christening the Baby. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Christening the Baby.

A Country clergyman relates the following incident as being absolutely founded on fact: Having arrived (says he) at that point in the baptismal service where the infant’s name is conferred, I said: "Name the child.” . "Original Story,” said the spoa-sor-aurse. ~ "What do you say?” I asked In surprise. "Original Story,” she repeated In clear, deliberate tones. "It’s a very odd name, isn’t ft? Are you sure that you want him called by the name , of Original Story?” I queried. "Original Story that’s right,” she declared. - “Is It a family name?” I persisted. "Named after his uncle, sir,” explained the woman in charge, getting red In the face. And so as Original Story I christened that unoffending little fellow. It was some weeks after this event that I made the acquaintance of the said uncle —a farm laborer In another village whose name was Reginald Story. , v My child bad been taught to be careful about spilling water on the floor. One day she was taken to see the Mississippi river, which flowed by me city where she lived. Upon reaching the bank of the river where it could be seen in all its wide expanse, she exclaimed: "Oh, who spilled all that water?” “I suppose you’re one of those .diots that touch wet paint to see if it’s dry?” “No, I’m not I touch it to see If it’s wet.” "What would you do if you had a lot of money ? ’ - “I s’pose I’d begin to worry about how I’d get along If I hadn’t” “The Jaggsons are the most enthusiastic suburbanites I ever came across. They are always experimenting, but arfe not very practical. Are they doing anything with their place this summer?” “Yes, I believe they are trying to raise everything on it but the mortage.” I

Hunter—What I like is to get sway off in the pathless wood a, where I am sure there la no other ht man being. Gunter—You enjoy the vaet solitudes ■ of nature? r Hunter—No. But I like to feel certain that I am not going to be mistaken for a deer by some amateur marksman. Banks—The women of my town have formed a secret society. Rivers—A secret society? Surely, that’s a misnomer ; women don’t-know how to keep secrets. Banks —But they know how to tell them, and that’s why they formed the society. “The ancient Romans had a catapult that could hurl rock more than a mile.” “Now I understand it.” “What?” “My landlord told me this bouse was a stone’s throw from the depot. He must have had it on his hands since the time of the Caesars.” Abou Ben Adbem had discovered that his name led all the rest. “Well," he said, “alphabetically, that’s where it belongs.” • Dropping a tear of sympathy for poor Xenophon, whose name was near the foot of the list, he kept right on loving his fellow men. Visitor (looking at field, covered with molehills)—What are all those mounds. Shropshire native —Oompty too imps. Visitor —But what are umpty tumps Native—Toomps what t’ oompty makes. Visitor —But what is the umpty? Native —What makes the toomps, you fool! —Punch. ? ... "Yes, my ciass is pretty well informed about the approaching comet,” said the first teacher. "Gracious,” exclaimed the second teacher in surprise, "how in the world did you ever get the children 1 interested in it?” "Why, 1 told them there was a chance of its coming and burning the school house down.” ■ ——j “John —John,” whispered Mrs. Gidgeley. nudging her husband. “What is it?” h© sleepily asked, “There’s a the house.” 1 get up and run the risk of being “No; hut if you find in the morning that somebody has gone through your pockets, don t blajne me.”

JOY OF LONELINESS.