Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 July 1879 — CONDIMENTS. [ARTICLE]

CONDIMENTS.

Is not a detective in the United States coinage bureau a mint’s spy? The French novel Is supplied with all the indelicacies of the season. Moses never had the gout This was one of the missed aches of Moses. Oft In the stilly night, When slumber’s chain hath bound me, I seem to sort of think I hear i] My neighbors’ cats around me. Beware of little things! A coat collar with one little single hair on its surface will cause more trouble than a $lO switch anywhere else. Willie asked his mother where the stars came from. Her reply was: “My son, Ido not know.” ‘‘Well, I do,” he said, “the moon laid ’em.” How rapidly, says the Burlington. Hawkeye, a man loses all interest iu politics arid national finances when he shuts a door on his own thumb. A man may be as pure as a virgin snow-flake and as mi.u aa a May morning, but he will get wild just the same when his office boy dips the. mucilage brush in the inkstand. Kate Cobb, the Connecticut Sendees, as the Detroit Free Press calls her, has had three offers of marriage since she went into retirement. Three more unfortunate weary of breath. Short dresses are now all the rage iu Paris. This is glorious news to the American women who have grown left-handed in the back from stooping over to pick up their trails.

The beauty of summer in the temperate zone is the amount of physical exercise a man can take. He lies awake and fights musquitoes all night, and writhes with the flies and prickly heat all day. They must miss these things In the tropics. “Caesar, what’s become of dat darkey who stole de taller?” “He has been taken up on an affldavy and carried up to the Sperm Court to have it tried.” “On an affldavy, Caesar?” “Yes, seed the handle of it.” A little girl was once asked: “Little girl, how do you get into bed so quickly?” She replied, “I get all undressed, and then I put out the light, and then I cry, ‘Rats! rats!’ and that frightens me so that I jump right into the bed as quick as a wink.” An anxious correspondent writes to inquire “which is the butt end of a goat?” In view of the disastrous experience of debating societies throughout the land we shall decline to answer, as a discussion on the subject can butt end to produce discord. People often complain of hard times from a mere natural tendency to growl, but a Georgia darkey other day said, “Nebber seed sich times since I been born. Work all day and steal all night, and blessed if I can hardly make a livin’.” Some fellows may follow the fickle goddess of Fortune foi a lifetime and never get near enough to kiss the hem of her garment, while flat-footed luck pursues others with a club and knocks the gilded balls of wealth straight into their hands at every clip. At a legal investigation of a liquor seizure the Judge asked an. unwilling witness: “What was' in the barrel that you had?” The reply was: your Honor, it was marked ‘whisky’ on one end of the barrel and ‘Pat Duffey’ on the other end, so that I can’t say whether it was whisky or Pat Duffey was in the barrel, being as l am 'on 1 my oath.” “Young matr,” said a stern old professor to a student who had been charged with kissing one of his daughters, “young man, don’t get into that habit. You’ll find that kissing is like eating soup with a fork.”; “How so, sir?” asked the student. “Because,” answered the stern old professor, “you can’t get enough of it”

Swinburne sings: “I hid my head in a nest of rosses.” Did yoa, Algernon, did you? That was wfae in you to bide it among the roses. Now, if you had covered it up in a nest of cabbages, when you came to pick it out again you could, not have told .for the life of you which head was yours. Stick to the roses, old boy, every time. Mr. Whitelaw Reid, in his 'very interesting addresses before the New York editors, said that the coming reporter must write like Macaulay. He may write like that celebrated historian, but lie will not do any newspaper work. As a reporter Macaulay would have proved the hugest sort oi a failure. He would not have lowered himself down a coal hole in the sidewalk, and come up the cellar stairs, in order to interview a prominent man who had eloped with a judge’s wife; noi would be have climed over a back fence, and left some of his coat tails on the spikes, and jumped through the window of a public hall in order to “borrow”the manuscript of a speech about to be delivered, and thus beat a rival reporter. Therefore, what is the use of the coming reporter being able to write like Macaulay?

It is by far the most painful episode in the history of the church at Maltese 1 Cross Roads. The talented minister of that church was awarded the degree of Doctor of Divinity by one of our colleges a few days since, and as soon as the commencement exercises were over he telegraphed the news to one of his deacons. The telegram, as he sent it, read it: “I’ve Just been D. D’d by my alma mater,” But as the deacon received it it read: !“I’ve just been d—d by my alma mater.” The deacon had ? the most exalted opinion of his dominie, not only of his inteliectua abilities, but of his moral worth, and at once called an indignation meeting of the church, at which, in the !|host scathing terms, he denounced the colege which had presumed to damn a reverend gentleman who was of npim peached soundness in doctrine, and whose practice was in strict conformity with his preaching. He carried all his hearers with him, and his motion that the salary of their dear but shamefullyabused pastor be increased SSOO, and that a committee be appointed to purchase a silver service to be presented to him on bis return, was earned unanimously, and there wasn’t a dry eye in < the'house. 1 The newly-degreed minister. bearing his blushing honors with graceful humility, arrived home in the morning. * * _• In the afternoon the deacon, we regret te say. dissolved his conneotiou with the church and bought a shotgun. About the same time a genial and urbane telegraph operator began leaving for parts unknown as fast ns the lightning express would carry him.—[Albany Evening Journal.