Rensselaer Republican, Volume 13, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 December 1880 — KOMIC KUTTINGS. [ARTICLE]

KOMIC KUTTINGS.

There are few safe robberies. Jail birds are confined in guilt Mges.—Boston Transcript . When the baby cries for “bread” it is the mpst natural thing in the world for the mother to give it a rock. The medicine man of the Philadelphia Chronicle says that a good physician carries his skill in his heals. The reason that persons file their marriage intentions is that eveiy thing may pass off* smoothly.—Yawcob Strauss. New Haven Register’. If you intend to buy a dog, buy one that is big enough to go through a hard winter without a plaid overcoat. "All seems to hinge on this,” remarked the lover when he proposed to his sweetheart while swinging* on the gate in front of her house. A little girl reproached with disobedience and breaking the commandments, said. "Mamma, those commandments break awful easy.” Andrew’s American Queen: Because one is a flowing tide and the other is a flying toad. The question has escaped us at this moment. The average age of a hog is only 15 years. This always consoles us when we see a man spreading himself out over four seats in a railway car. New Orleans Picayune: Fashion says: “Gathered waists are still very much in favor with young ladies.” They are with young gentlemen, also.

"My serment shall stand on deze tree pints,” said a colored preacher not many Sundays ago; 1 the expound-, in’; 2 the enlargin’; and 3 the arousin’. I New Orleans Picayune’. It is a fortunate thing for Shakespeare that he established a solid reputation before the newspaper critics of America had a chance to cut him up. Philadelphia Chroniele: There are some thirty-five thousand more females than males in Philadelphia, and yet some people wonder Why some girls marry bow-legged men. “Which do you like best, your father or your mother?” inquired a visi* tor of a little chubby-fist. “Oh, I like ma the best. She spanks me with the soft side of her hand: pa takes a shingle.”

Punch.: “Accidents will happen,” Brigson (at last winging a pheasant, after missing rignt and left all day)— “Ah, ha! Knocked him over that time, Jenkins!” Keeper—“ Yes sir; they will fly into it sometimes!” , A few days after going to a wake, Bridget asked'her mistress for her money. “Are you going to leave?” “Yes, ma’am, I’m going to marry the corpse’ husband. He told me I was the life of the wake.” A hospital clergyman asked the official how one of the insane patients was getting along. ‘ ‘O, he’s certainly getting better,” was the reply, “for he told me yesterday that he had entirely abandoned the idea of becoming a preacher.” After listening to the various ills to which people were exposed, bronchitis in Florida, yellow fever in New Orleans, lightning in the pine lands—the laziest of the group pushing back his hat, remarked: “Fact is, it’s rather dangerous liven 1 anywhar.” ’ Toddlekins is a very small man, indeed. but he said he never minded it at all until his three boys grew up to be tall, strapping youjig fellows, and his wife began to cut down their old clothes and cut them over to fit him; and then he said he did get mad.

One night Uncle Harvey, keeper of a poor house down in Maine, was waked by the groans of one of the old men. “What is the matter?” he asked. “I’m dying. Uncle Harvey,” said the old man. “I’m dying;go and get me a doughnut; I must have suthin’ to pass away the time.” Childhood’s innocence—Somebody gave little Augustus two toys. “I will give this one to my dear little sister,” he said, showing the largest. “Because it is the prettiest?” said the delighted mamma. “No,” he replied, without hesitation; “because its broken.”

A tired mother in this city was looking rather cross am I sullen the vtlier evening, when, htr little 4-year-old daughter saia to her: “Mother, haven’t I been a good little girl today?” “Yes,” replied the mother. “Well then,” said the child, '‘why don’t you smile upon me?” “Yes, I’m up to my ears in business,” said Jones, smilingly, “Well, there’s no danger you’ll over get over them, Jones; not a bit of danger,” said Smith; at the same time putting his thumbs to the top of his own ears and flapping his hands up and down like a loose casement in the wind. Jones wondered what the deuce Smith meant. A clergyman was preparing his sermon for Sunday, stopping occasionally to review what he had written and to erase that which he was diposed to disapprove, when he was accosted by his little son: “Father, does God tell you what to preach ?” “Certainly, my child.” “Then what makes you scratch it out?” A very little boy one day did wrong, and was sent,after parental correction, to ask in secret the forgiveness of his Heavenly Father. His offence was passion. Anxious to hear what he would say, his mother followed to the door of tue room. In lisping accents she heard him ask to be made better; and then, with childlike simplicity, he added:—“Lord make ma’s temper better, too.”