Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 April 1882 — OUR LITTLE JOKF. [ARTICLE]

OUR LITTLE JOKF.

The United States is fast becoming a vaccine nation. The fly who was invited into the spider’s parlor did not make his party call. Cardinal Newan says that a gentleman nefer inflicts pain. Then no dentist can be a gentleman. The pensive mule is not usually regarded as susceptible to pathetic emotions. And yet he occasionally drops a mule-teer. What is the difference between an old tramp and a feather bed? There is a material difference. One is hard up, and the other is soft down. “Where’s the molasses, Bill?” said a red-headed woman sharply to her son, who had returned with an empty jug. “None in the city, mother.” A little girl who was watching a sunset of crimson, orange and purple, said, “Is that the power and the glory?” “That is the most refined fire I ever witnessed,” said Oscar, while watching Havemeyer & Elder’s sugar refinery dissolve. It may be right sometimes to .take a bull by the horns, but it is always well to keep in mind that the horns belong to the bull. An exchange wants to know “whether our colleges turn out gentlemen.” Certainly not. The gentlemen are allowed to go on and graduate. Young clergyman (at a clerical meeting)—“l merely throw out the idea.” Old clergyman—“ Well, I think that is the best you can do with it.” A fashion writer says “raised figures” produce excellent effect. Well,’ that depends; if they are on a check, they sometimes produce the effect of sending the raiSer to ttate prison. Teacher —“John, what are your boots made of?’’ Boy—“Of leather.” “Where does the leather come from?” “From the hide of the ox.” “What animal, therefore, supplies you with boots and gives you meat to eat?” “My father.” Old Mrs. Skittleworth don’t know why people will make counterfeit money. She says she “tried to pass a bad half dollar a dozen times the other day, but nobody would have it,” and sne thinks it a waste of time to make such stuff.

He slipped quietly in at the door, but, catching sight of an inquiring face over the stair rail, said: “Sorry so late, my dear; couldn’t get a car before.” “So the cars were full, too,” said the lady; and further remarks were unnecessary. “So you are going to lecture?” inquired a friend of a musical professor recently. “What on?” “Well, if I am entirely sober, on my feet,” was the reply. “That’S wrong,” was the response. “Never give superficial talk on large subjects.” An old miser, who was notorious for self-denial, was one day asked why he was so thin. “I do not know,” said the miser; “I have tried various means for getting fatter, but without success.” “Have you tried victuals?” inquired a friend. A lady who had been traveling in Italy, was asked by a f riend how she liked Venice. “Oh! very much, indeed,” was the renly. “I was unfortunate enough, however, to arrive there j ft at the time of a heavy flood, and weTaad to go about the streets in boats.” Master Tommy (he had been very naughty, and was now amusing himself with his scripture prints—“ Here’s Daniel in the lions’ den!” Mamma (incautiously)—“Ah, what was lie cast into the lions’ den for?” Master Tommy (with triumph)—“ ’Cause he was good.” We frequently hear a lady exclaim, “Odear! Iwishlwerea man!” but we do not remember ever hearing a man wish himself a woman. No man ever dared allow his wishes to soar so high. He is content to admire rather than be the thing admired. N. B.— this is not tafty.—[Boston Transcript. An old lady who had no relish for modern church music was expressing her dislike of the singing of an anthem in a certain church not from that is a very old anthem. David sang it to Saul.” To this the old lady replied: “Weel, weel, I noo for the first time understan’ why Saul threw his javelin at David when the lad sang for him.” Is this boy a hero? Let us see. He lies stretened acioss the master’s knee and whimpers not. Every second the cruel rattan rises and falls; every second there is a dull sound as if somebody were thrashing mud. The dust flies but the \ ictirn utters no sound. The perspiration stands out on (he master’s brow, and he begins to wonder if that boy’s basement is constructed of sheet-iron. Nothing of the sort; it is a wild foolish conjecture. The lad’s life has been passed in the full blaze of the nineteenth century civilization. He is no fool. He knows that nobody knows what a day may bring forth. He doesn’t venture across the dark gulf between the Now and May-be unprovided against contingencies. The lantern that guides his footsteps is the light of experience. There is a great future I’eserVed for this boy. The rattan goes up and the rattan comes down; wljo cares for rattans? When he left home in the morning he took his father's last remaining liver-pad with him. It’s the right liver-pad in the wrong place. Yes, this boy is a hero. —Brooklyn Eagle.