Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 May 1885 — PITH AND POINT. [ARTICLE]

PITH AND POINT.

A Chinaman is like a billiard player, because he minds his cue. — Carl Pretzel’s Weekly. What is a luxury ? asks an exchange. A luxury is something you don’t want until yon see else with it.— Philadelphia Catl Every body does not have the same opinion of roller-skating. It depends principally upon their experience, the way it strikes them. It is a very easy thing, even for tho most ignorant man, to be an author of note if his name is worth anything.— Merchant Traveler. 1 One good combination dog, if. kept is an alley way between yards, can do the barking for two houses at night.— New Orleans Picayune. A couple of miners struck a vein of gas at a depth of six feet in Ohio. They bored into a book-agent’s grave. —Newman Independent. . Skating rinks are demoralizing. They incline one to base actions, and even the best of Christians are liable to become backsliders Texas Siftings. “So your son has gone abroad? Aren’t you afraid he’ll fall a victim to the cholera?” “No, indeed; he is a member of a base-ball club, and his friends inform me that he was never known to catch anything.”— Boston Transcript, A movement is on foot at Halley,ldaho, to remove the principal of the public schools. Among the serious charges preferred against him are tlje allegations that he pronounces “India” “Injun’* and plays billiards.— Virginia (Nev.) Enterprise. “Yes,” he said, dropping into a chair, “Clara loves me, lam sure. I tried to kiss her to-night at the hall door, but she got very indignant” “That doesn’t look as if she loved you.” said his chum. “Oh, yes it does. She called me a rascal.—The Ingleside. HE WANTS COURT-PLASTER. Gavly the rash young: man Puts on tho skates. Saying: ‘‘l think I can Astonish tho States.” Then he strikes wildly out — Pitster and faster; And with a bump and shout Yells for court plaster. —No'i'ristolen Herald. After the concert: Mrs. Amateur—- “ That last number was delicious. What a beautiful air!” Mrs. Tinsel—- “ Beautiful air 1- For my part, I thought it was extremely oppressive. It was fearfully warm, and there didn’t seem to be any ventilation at alL”— Boston Transcript.

A MOURNFUL CIRCUMSTANCE. An editor did work Like u Turk: * - A poet slow came in Wuha grin, And he said, “1 have some verses That I’d like t > you to sell: , And you may have them, sir, by yaiv! . Or, if you wish, by ell.” —=?The editor looked weak. And with a piercing shr'ek. Right down upon that office floor, He duly fell, and eke Of hope bereft The poet left, -Oh, miseree! Oh sad) alas! r J hat such events will come to v ass! —Chicago Sun. “Bub, are you looking for a place?” “Yes, boss.” “Where did you work last?” “It didn’t last—that was the trouble with it.” “I mean, who hired you? “The elevator—it highbred me and lowered me, too.” “Smart, ain’t you? Where were you raised?” “I was raisied last ’round to Jinks. He raised me out over the coal hole.” “Then you can’t give me a recommendation, cw you?” “Ob, yes, I kin! I kin give you a recommend fer Jinks. He’s a raiser from Baisersville, he is.” Yonker’s Gazette. ; THE BOY AN.> THE BEE. An hr.nble boy with shining- pail Went gladly singing town tho dale, To where the cow wl h the brind:e tail On clover her palate did regale. A bumble-bee did gaily sail Far over the soft and shadowy vale, To where the bay with shining pail Was milking the cow with a brindle tail. The bee sat down on,the cow's Icf < car. Her heels flew through the atmosphere, • And throu -h the leaves of the chestnut tree Tho boy soared into eternity. —Cleveland Herald. Giddy girl, with heart a-fluttor. Did you ever paimo to think What a pile of bread and butter Could be purchased with tho chink Thatyour beau spent lor that cutter? —New York Journal.

A SERIOUS CASE. He is tender and gentle and good to me always; I have loved him from girlhood, shall love him 111 death. The home ho has made me a true lover’s Eden, Except for a serpent that’s lurking beneath, Here I stand imbroid.r, paint plaques, aud~write poeiry, And wait for his coming—his fond little ," wife; Bqt when I rush to him and ask if he loves me. He kisses me, saying. “You bet your sweet life.” Oh, how can 1 bear It! For love is so serious, ' So s weet, and s i solemn, that or el the pang The true heart must feel its deepest outpouring Is met in such fashion with jesting and s ang. But Ihe end is approaching, and e’en though it kill me, I’ll leave him, since surely ho has t o regard For his wile—or to-day when I asked if he loved me He’d never have answered, “Why, cert, little pard.” —The Hatchet•