Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 34, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 November 1901 — JOLLY JOKER. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

JOLLY JOKER.

Crawford—What advantage is there in marrying for money? Crabshaw— Your love lasts longer. Jinks —How much do you think a minister ought to get for marrying a couple? Filkins—Well, if wholly unacquainted with them perhaps he might be let off with six months. She —How beautifully Miss Heavyweight dances! She doesn’t seem to touch the floor sometimes! He (whose feet are still suffering from the last polka with her)—She doesn’t!—Punch. Roderick—The advertisement said it was a great stopping place for the leisure class. Van Albert—Was It so? Roderick—Yes; a dozen tramps stopped at the kitchen every morning.—Chicago News. “Sir, I have come to ask you for your daughter’s hand.” “All right, my boy. I think you’ll find it in the dishwater.” Then the young man left, smiling, knowing that if such was the case he had won a prize.—Commoner. Floorw'alker Good-morning. You wish to do some shopping, I presume? Bride (with hubby)—Y-e-s. Floorwalker —Step into the smoking room and the boy there will give you a check for your husband.—New York Weekly. A Freezer for Mrs. Newife: Mrs. Newife —I acknowledge that I have my faults, and am sometimes cross, Jack, dear, but if I had the last two years of my life to live over again I should marry you just the same. Mr. Newife —I doubt it. —Tit-Bits. “I suffer dreadfully from Insomnia, doctor,” said the patient. “Indeed,” replied the physician; “we’ll soon correct that.” And he did, for this particular physician was able to procure for his patient a situation as nightwatchman. —Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph.

Suburbanite —“Why, sir; we everything right here in Lonesomehurst that heart could desire or fancy dictate.” New-Yorker—“And still you come to New York twice a week!” Suburbanite —“Well, yes; but only to buy luxuries and necessities.”—Judge. Mrs. Frills—Now that I have engaged you, Bridget, I am going to begin right away to give you a little training in the art of waiting on guests. You see, my daughter Is coming out next month Bridget—lndade, mum! An’ how long was she sint up for?-Richmond Dispatch. “You pugilists don’t seem to have nearly so much to say as formerly.” “No,” answered the eminent representative of the prize ring; “to tell the truth, we got so interested In listening to these naval gentlemen that we kind of forgot our own affairs.”—Washington Star. Miss Breezy—Yes, I’m engaged to George. It was pretty hard to decide, because I liked Tom quite as well as George, and they’re equally wealthy. Miss Wabash—What finally decided you? Miss Breezy—George promised me the most alimony in case of divorce.—Philadelphia Press. “ Imet Hargus in the street yesterday morning, and he flicked his cigar ashes in my face. I’m writing to him now to tell him what I think about it.” “Why didn’t you tell him what you thought about it then?” “Because I never can express myself with any satisfaction extemporaneously.”—Chicago Tribune. A Grievous Offense: Magistrate—The charge is interfering with an officer. Roundsman McCarty, you will please state exactly what the defendant did. Roundsman McCarty—ol wor passing his fruit shtand, yer anner, an’ Oi shwoiped a banana, when th’ dago troid t’ tek it from me, yer anner.—Leslie’s Weekly. Sunday School Teacher—Faith, children, is believing in the existence of something we can’s see. For example, when you buy bananas, you know that there is a delicious fruit inside the tough skin. Do you understand? Children—Yes. ma’am. Sunday School Teacher —Well, what is faith? Children—Bananas.

Ready for the Rush: They had been drifting about in the open boat seven days, and all were near unto death, when the half-famished sailor In the bow leaped up and cried: “A sail! A sail!” “What, a bargain sale?” shrieked the half-dead woman passenger, as she begun fumbling for her purse.— Baltimore World. Ills One Literary Success: Miss Knlcliel>_Dld you ever go in for literature, Mr. Gay? Mr. Gay-Well-er-not exactly, but once when I was at college I wrote a short story and got one hundred dollars for It. Miss lvulcher— Really? What was It? Mr. Gay—Dear Father, I’m broke. Please send me a hundred.—Philadelphia Tress. The professional liar braced himself when he felt the thrill of a bite along his fishing pole. When the cork went uuder he gave a deft Jerk and landed a minnow about five Inches long. “Shucks!” he muttered with cliugrln, ns he took It off the hook; “I wish that ’un had got away; It would have been so much bigger.”—Ohio State Journal. Pat—l say, Mike, I have a three-pen-ny piece with a hole In It which I cannot get rid of at all —at nil. \Vbat shall I do with it, begorra? Mike-Sure, Pat, you must do the same as I did oncst—on excellent plan was mine. “And phwat was It, at all, Mike?” “Oh, it was fine, Tat, I tell you. That threepenny piece had bothered me a long tolme, entolrely. Nobody would have It, so at last I melted down a sixpence and filled up the hole. Begorrn, It went the very next day, my bhoy.”—London Spare Moments.