Varieties.

Cromwell Argus, Volume I, Issue 14, 16 February 1870, Page 3

Varieties.

Why aro ladies like watches ’—Because they have beautiful faces, delicate bauds, aro more admired when full jewelled, aud need regulating very often.' . An Irish footman, who had recently got a place at the West End, on entering a room where there was a vase of gold fish, exclaimed, “By St. Patrick, this is the first time 1 ever saw red herrings alive, in the whole course of my life. ” A few years ago an ingenious gentleman used to get drunk gratuitously almost daily in the streetsiof London by falling down in a fit with a small placard on bis breast— M Don’t bleed mo, but give mo a glass of hot brandy and water.” Josh Billings says there are but few sights in this life more sublime and pathetic than to see a poor but virtuous young man, full of Christian fortitude, struggling to grow.a moustache, A. wag, passing by a bouse which bad been almost consumed by fire, inquired whose it was. He was told that it was a hatter’s, when be exclaimed, “ Ah I then the loss will be fell.” The following extraordinary specimen of orthography and composition was recently sent' to a Melbourne magistrate, as a notice that an infant, for the maintenance of whom the writer had been ordered to pay 7s 6d a week, was dead : “Monday, January 10)70. Sar, —I am ghowwing you nouttics of the Entfant Ceaycld of fraync Slabbat dat I were payeng 7s 6p ia dead. E dieyd on Sunday morning hat 11 a clok and is funeral tuk pies hat trey a Clock on Monday hafternon. I remayned to be your hombel servant A—B.” An Editor’s Bed.—ln a certain village the editor of a local newspaper had a room at the hotel. One night he was absent, and the landlord, as the house was crowded, put a stranger in his bed. The next morning the following lines wero found in the room : I slept in an editor’s bed last night, And others may say what they please, I say there’s one editor in tho world That certainly lakes his ease. When I thought of my humble cot, away, I could not suppress a sigh. But thought, as I rolled in the feathery nest. How easily editors lie! The editor, after some enquiries of the landlord, made the following addition ; The chap whose form has rested here, And left his copy behind, For a bad impression should be locked up, /■ s the cut is most unkind. Behold a proof of how he lies : In tho morning he went away. And like many that use an editor’s sheet, Has forgotten his bill to pay. MARRIAGES. Steed—Curry.—On the 19th inst., Thomas. Steed, Esq., toJMiss Sarah E. Curry. Said Brown, “ Tom Steed’s so very small, . 1 fear he will be flurried. ” “ Oh no !” said Jones, “ a steed’s a horse. And a short one is soon curried." Turn—Turn.—On the 14th, Mr Joseph Turn to Miss Mary Turn. Let’s hope they were good children both. And honoured well their loving mother. We can’t complain in such event, For “ one good turn deserves another." Moore—Moore. —On the Ist, Mr William Moore to Miss Maria Moore. The happiness they will enjoy la great beyond degree ; But when they have a little “ Moore,” Oh 1 won’t it greater be. Williams—Williams.—On the 29th ult., Mr William Williams, to Miss Lizzie Williams, both of Williamstown. ■ “ For further particulars, see small Bills. ’’—Native Virginian. Mrs Partington, in illustration of the proverb, “A soft answer tumeth away wrath," says that “ it is better to speak paragorically of a person than to be all the time flinging epitaphs at him." O’Connell and bis son.—There is a story told of the First Liberator which is not unworthy of being recorded. The great Daniel, when taking a sauntering rido in tho neighbourhood of his house at Caherciveen; had occasion to ask an urchin to open a gate for him. The little fellow complied with much alacrity, aud looked up with'such An honest pleasure at rendering tha slight service, that O’Connell by way of saying something—anything, asked, "What's your name, boy?” “Daniel O’Connell, sir,” replied he stoutly- “And who’s your father?" demanded the astonished liberator. “ Daniel O’Connell, sir.” O'Connell muttered a word or two below his breath, and added aloud, “ When I see you again 1 will,give you sixpence.” Siding briskly on, he soon forgot the incident, and fell to thinking of much graver matters, when, after some miles of riding, he found his path obstructed by some fallen timber, which a boy was. stoutly endeavouring to remove. On looking more closely he discovered it to be the same hoy he had met in the morning. * ‘ What, ” cried he, “how do you. come to be here now?” “ You said, sir, the next time you seen me you’d give me sixpence,” said tho little fellow, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “ Here it is, 1 ' said Daniel, “ you are my son, tho devil a doubt of it.”— “ Cornelius O’Dowd,” in Blackwood. A London Lark.—We once saw the Strand thrown into terror, confusion, and distress by the unaided wit of two hoys. It was one of those foggy, damp December evenings, when the lamps look like blurred moons, objects twenty yards off are all but undistinguishable, and tho pavement is aS slippery as if all the clowns had been practising the making of butter slides for the coming pantomimes. Those playful youths had got a suit of old clothes aud some straw, out of* which they had made an image sufficient ly like a man to pass .muster in that uncertain light. With this, counterfeitiiigthe aotionof affectionate sons taking home a beloved but intoxicated father, they would suddenly appear in front of . some passing omnibus, and then,- affect nig to lose all presence of mind, "How their helph-.s parent to fall almost under tho feet of tho horses, ihe scene may be imagined. Terror of the passengers, horror of the driver, horses down through, having been sharp turned aside or pulled up on Hhe greasy pavement, and the general agitation, which culminated when at length an omnibus with more way on than usual actually passed over tho body, the wretched driver, of course, suffering the mental agonies of a homicide until relieved by seeing tho straw intestines of his victim.