Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 October 1879 — CONDIMENTS. [ARTICLE]

CONDIMENTS.

“I told her I’d never smoke another cigar,” he said, softly, “and I won’t A pipe’s plenty good enough for me,” and he gracefully drew A match over the leg of his trousers. “Nothing is made in vain!” exclaims the divine; but the next moment, as an Aggregation ol silk, lace aud feathers Sweeps up the aisle, he realizes that something is maiden vaiD. ‘ A stranger asked a resident of Milford, Del., “Are you always troubled with mosquitoes here?” “Mosquitoes!” was tlie answer, “swing a pint measure arouud aud you'll catch a quart of them.”

“I’ll subscribe for that paper,” said Vanderbilt, laying down an agricultural journal he had been reading; “its editor is a man of high attainments.” His eye had caught an article headed: “Water Your Stock Regularly ” r‘ ; l wish I were you about two hours,” she said, with great tenderness. “And, why, my dear?” he asked with considerable interest. “Because,” she said, toying affectionately with his watch chaiu —“because then 1 would buy my. wife a new bonnet.” But even in the most favorite elite circles I never heard a better repartee thanone delivered by a plain countryman oft horseback overtaken an acquaintance trudging along on foot. “May I ride behind you ?’ ’ asked thepedestrian. “Certainly,” replied the horseman, but not on the same horse.” A prominent attorney, while fishing a day or two since, poiuted out to his companions a sign-board, remarking:!' ‘‘•The fellow who put that up is a liar.” “V/hy?” asked his companion. Because that sign reads ‘No fishing iu this brook,’ aud I caught the best trout in my basket directly under that board.” At a trial of a criminal case, the prisoner entered a plea of “not guilty,” when one of the jurymen put on his hat and started for the door. The Judge called him back and-informed him that he could not leave until ther case was tried. “Tried?” queried the juror. “Why, he acknowledges that he is not guiity!” * .

When two couple of young people start out riding in ia two seated carriage, they are as happy as four loving clams until the slifuies of evening upE roach, and the couple in the front seat' egin to realize that the crying need of this great, free and majestic country of ours is— seated carriage with the front seat behind, i “Will the angels come down for me with a chariot and horses when I die?” asked a little boy of his Sunday school teacher. “I guess so, if you are a real good boy.” said the teacher. / Tbe little follow’s eyes sparkled with ahtieipation as he eagerly exclaimed: “And, oh! do you think they’ll let me set on the front seat and drive!” The young men who stand round the church doors on earth, watching the people come out, and .smiling on the girls in an emetic sort of way, will some day hang around the gates of heaven while decent people go in, and the first thing they know the gate is shut forever, and they will have to get accommodations elsewhere. A friend ( and neighbor has a relative, a practical Christian, who has a forcible way of putting things. The other day the subject of death-bed repentance was under discussion, when he said: “Some mea think they can live any kind of life, yet save their souls by a so-called repentance a, s few hours before death; but 1 have my doubts as to bow that kind of washing will dry out when hung out on the heaivenly clothes-line.”

The round yellow pumpkin that the housewife has in her eye for a nic% batch of inch and a half deep pies with . under crust as brown as a berry, does not always show up when cooking day comes round; but down behind the garden gate at the first approach of darkness sbe can see a fiendish face all aglow with fire. That’s her favorite pumpkin, and the only wax candle she had is inside of it. , “A light Squeeze*’ is an unfortunate title for a new book. An old maid will never —no, never!—ehter a book store and ask a spruce young clerk for a “Tight Squeeze,” although she may want one very badly. And a much beruffled aud banged youug lady will hardly ever call for “a tight squeeze” so publicly when she is already squeezed so tightly that she can hardly draw her breath. And a young man—well, a young man doesn’t go to a book store when he wauts “a tight squeeze.” Late in the after noon one of the police discovered a boy about 9 years old curled up in a corner of Machinery Hall, and made inquiry: “Bub, what are you doing here?” “I’m lost!” was the laconic reply. “How long since you have seen your friends?” “Well, I left dad about three hours ago, Iguess.” “And you’ve been lost ever since?” “Yes.” “Well, it’s too bad.” “Y-yes, it’s a sad case,” said the lad, trying to appear very brave, “but I’ll bet that while I’m doing all the losting, dad’s doing most of the feeling bad!”