ALLEGED HUMOUR.

Evening Post, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 88, 15 April 1911, Page 11

ALLEGED HUMOUR.

THE REDUCTION BREAKFAST. Pass me the table seajes, mother, Hand me the thyroid drops. I've lost a pound since yesterday, So send away the chops. Pour out the barley water, Jano, Gladly I greet tho morn; Give me three grains of corn, mother, Give me three grains of corn ! My waist is sinking- in, mother, My hips have fallen away; I've hollows where I once had curves, Serve me some shredded hay. This cowless milk is excellent — Non-nitrogenous, dry — Then move the muffins further ofE And push the pancakes by 1 Feed me the carbo-hydrates, mother, With a wafer saccharine^; Give me the London biscuit tin They help to keep one lean. Tell Jane to take away the eggs, I And the French fried things I scorn ; Give me three grains of corn, mother, Only three grains of corn ! I thought I'd passed away, mother, When I first began to bant; I did not like the fatloss foods, Or the fluidless rations scant. But I've shrunk like a sun-kissed lily stalk By the breezes over-borne — So rest my head on your shoulder, mother, Give mo three grains of corn ! Life. — Kate Masterton. VIVE LA BAGATELLE. How queer life's ourious contrasts are 1 The short man has the tallest debt, The slim man smokos a big cigar, The fat man puffs a cigarette ! i The bad man's purse is to tho good, The good man's roll is to the bad, The wise man's saws will saw no wood, The gay man's jokes are very sad ! The bookish man can keep no books, The kneady man can make no dough j The seer is awfully short on looks — The actor never has a show ! The fortune-teller's always poor; The doctor's generally ill; Oh, let's be "glad for one thing sure — We fools have got our folly still l Cleveland Plain Dealer. JOKES. Jokes were first imported to this country several hundred years ago from Egypt, Babylon, and Assyria, and have since then grown and multiplied. They are in j extensive use in all parts of the country, | and as an antidote for thought are indispensable at all dinner parties. There were originally twenty-five jokes, but when this country was formed they ' added a constitution, which increased the number to twenty-six. These jokes have married and intermarried among themselves and their children travel from press to press. Frequently in one week a joke will travel from New York to San Francisco. The joke is no respecter of persons. Shameless and unconcerned, he tells the story of his life over and over again. Outside of the ballot-box he is the greatest repeater that we have. Jokes are of three kinds — plain, illustrated, and pointless. Frequently they are all three, No joke is without honour, except in its own country. Jokes form one of our staples and employ an army of workers who toil night and day to turn out the often neatly finished product. The importation of jokes while considerable is not as great as it might be, as the flavour is lost in transit. _ Jokes are used in the household as an antiseptic. As scene-breakers they have no equal. New York Life. THE COST OF HEREDITY. Lord Decies was talking about American cab fares. "They seem to be intended only for the rich," he said. "I was amused by ' a cabby who, after a drive that would have cost a shilling in London, said : 'You're an Englishman, sir, and so I'll only charge you 2dols.' He made me think of a lawyer who, having won a case involving a hundred pounds sterling, kept eighty pounds for his fee, and said, as he handed over the balance of twenty pounds to his client, 'I am your friond, sir. I oan T fc j charge you my full fee. I knew your father.' 'Thank goodness,' said the client, warmly, 'that you didn't know my grandfather.' " THE UTILITY MODEL. George W. Perkins was giving advice to young men. "Never undertake," he 6aid, "to do too much. In applj'ing for a position it is almost better to promise 100 little than too much. Remember the model. An old chap, you know applied to a New York artist for the post of model. 'Well,' said the artist, 'what do you sit for?' 'Oh, anything, sir,' said tho model, fingering his beard nervously. 'Anything you like, sir. Landscape, if necessary.' " A HEARTLESS CRITIC. William Dean Howells tells of a stern critic to whom a popular novelist brought his first novel in manuscript — a manuscript of about 140,000 Avords. Tho criticduly read it, then he gave the author this advice: "Cut out half." The young man accepted the advice. He cut out all the weak and dull portions, and it seemed to him that the story was improved wonderfully thereby. _ He sent it in its new form to the critic, who then gave him this second piece of advice : "Cut out the other half." Farmer's Wife (to motorist whose motor had struck a fence and thrown him forty feet into the yard) — Did you have an accident? Motorist (picking himself up) — Bless you, no; that's the way I always stop. "What are tho Christian names of the young couple next door ?" "We won't be able to find out till next week. They've just been married, and he calls her Birdie, and she calls him Pet. O'Brien — The doctor saye what I hey is insomny. O'Toole — Oh, shure. O'ive had that trouble mesal', an' there's only wan cure for it. O'Brien — What's that? What d'ye dp? O'Toole^-Jusht go to sleep an' furgit all about it. "Shall wo advertise for a man with exj perionce?" "Well, I don't know. The , last man had so much experience that we couldn't teach him anything."' Miss Vallmore.— l was told to take lemon juice for my singing. Mr. Sourly. — Haven't you got will power enough to stop hinging without tho aid of lemon juice? "When Dustin Stax went into Wallstreet he didn't have a dollar ho could call his own." "Yes. But in those days ho was more particular about whoso dollar he called his own." "My daughter is so pretty that I can't interest her in tho serious things of life." "Sho may lose her beauty some day." "So I tell her. And then she'll Be sorry that she didn't learn to play bridge." "How are you getting on with your new motor car?" "Oh, I'm all right," replied Mr. Chuggina. "But I'd feol a lot more comfortablo if the streets were not so full of careless or inexperienced pedestrians." "Captain,"' shouted the lieutenant to his superior on the bridge of the vessel— the tear of the artillery was deafening — "the enemy has got our rango." The captain frowned. ' "Curse the luck!" he growled. "Now haw can tho cook get dinner!" Mrs. Binks. — The people in the next suite to ours are awfully annoying. They pound on th& wall every time our Mamie sings. I wish wo knew of some way to drive them out of the flat. Mr. Binks.— Why not have Mamie keep on singing? Yeast — And was he cooj in the hour of danger? Crimsonbeak— Well, his feofc wore 1

tf

tf

m

m