Wit and Humour.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2389, 2 January 1909, Page 11 (Supplement)

Wit and Humour.

A boy’s education begins in earnest immediately he leaves school.

“What ails me, doc?” asked the genial clubman. “You need a job. l'ou are suffering from over-rest.”

Merchant: “Yes, avc Avere in need of a porter. Where Avere you employed last?” Applicant: “111 a bank, sir'.” Merchant: “Bid .you clean it'out?” Applicant: “No, sir. I’ll© cashier did that.”

. Principal of Public School: What are your views on corporal punishment? Do you approve of it?” Ncav Boy’s Mother: “No, indeed, sir. I think when they’re bad you should just give ’em a good thrashing.”

Tavo costermongers liad met at a street corner, and one of them eyed Avhat the other called his “moke”—a beautiful specimen of a' skeleton — with anything but admiration. “Don’t you feed ’im. Bill?” he exclaimed at last. “Feed ’.im! Well, I like that!” Avas the reply. “Why, ’e’s got a bushel and a ’arf of hoats at ’ome now,, but ’e ain’t got no time to eat ’em.”

In replying to an advertisement for a messenger boy, one of the applicants Avas a dull country youth. “How far is it from the earth to the moon?” Avas the question put to him by his prospective “boss.” “Hoav far is it from the earth to the moon?” echoed the lad. “I say, gov’nor, if you’re going to put me on that route I’m not after your job.”

When Slapdash Jones Avenfc home for the holidays, the first tiling his mother took out of his trunk Avas an overcoat, on which was pinned a paAvnbroker’s ticket that he liad neglected to remove. “Ha, ha!” remarked Slapdash; “they must have forgotten to take it off the Smiths’ dance Avhen I left it in the cloakroom. “Oh, AAdiat?” A moment Jatur his mother took out his evening trousers, but unluckily thev bore a similar ticket. “Why, my dear,” exclaimed.. his mother, .“you surely endn t leaA'e those in the cloak room too!

Literary American Mother (cn route from Liverpool to London): Say iommy, my son. This is Rugby. Just you step right doAvn and island on the deepot platform, and you kin tell ’em back home you’ve been where Tom Jones spent his schooldays!

IN A DRAPER’S SHOP. It ahvays lightens a shop-assis-tant s labors when ,a customer at the counter asks for exactly AA-bat she n ants. Like this., for example, over'loard an a local emporium the other day : something in blue taffeta silk, please. I don’t want anything .as dark as navy blue nor anything as light a s Cambridge blue, but something darker than Eton blue and lighter than naw blue, and yet a little off from aii electric blue and hardly a sky blue more like a Tobiu’s-egg blue, and vet not quite that light, but not nearly so dark as an indigo blue, but something bke this n©Av tint, I think they call -morning-glory blue, which i's something like a turquoise blue, and yet not quite so light as* that and vet not so dark quite .as tliis aqua-ma-mm blue nor so light as baby blue. lf you have anything in tho shade I have described, please show at to me.”

AncKthe versatile assistant 'Unrolled a length—a cross beween deep indigo and' the deep sea—with the remark, ‘This is the latest shade of milk’ ,™ adam ' Xt is caMed ‘London

W'HRE THE PATCH BELONG.S . An Aucklander recently had occasion to engage a gardener. One morning two applicants appeared,— one a decidedß decent looking man. and the other of much less preposjsossing appearance and manner. After very little hesitation, tlie man of the house chose the latter applicant.

A friend Avho Avas present evinced surprise at the selection, asking: “Has that mi never Avorked for you before?”

. “No,” replied the other,, “in fact I never, saw either of them until today.”

Then why did you choose tlie shorter man? The other had a much better face.”

“Face!” exclaimed the proprietor of the place, in disgust. “Let me (ell you that Avlien you pick out a gardener, you Avant to go by his overalls. If they’re patched oil, the -knees you Avant him. If tlie patch is bn the seat of his trousers von don’t.”

“So Elizabeth took the other penny ~iAvay from her.”

WHAT ELIZABETH DID. A teacher in a publis school, never took much notice of a certain boy until she discoA'ered that there avus a lot. of fun hidden behind his quiet, demure face. Here is a sample. In composition Avorlc I often, give my- pupils half of a story , amb ask them to finish it their omv Avay. One day I told them about a little girl named lEizabetli avlio started out one morning with a resolve that she Avas going to be as good all day long as if it was Sunday. Her Suncliysdhool teacher, had told her that little girls should behave every day as if it- were Sunday—not put' on their kind and polite manners only AA'lmn they put on tlieir Sunday dresses. So when Elizabeth put on her school dress ''&ls7T resolved that she Avas going to he very good all day. She had not gone A r cry far — only to the first corner, aylTcu she saw another little girl standing there, crying. That- is Avhcre J. left the story for them to finish. They were to tell, what Elizabeth did. This is the way tho most serious boy in tlie school •completed till© plot: “Elizabeth saw the little girl cry? ing, so she Avcnt up to her a fid asked her Avbat.Avas tho matter. “ ‘I had tAvo pennies,’ sobbed tlie little girl, ‘and a big boy took one of them away.’ “‘Obj that is too bad!’ said Elizabeth.; ‘What did you do?’ “‘Oli. I cried “Help! Help !” just like that/ said the little girl. “ ‘Why is that as loud as you can call?’ exclaimed Elizabeth.

‘ ‘Yes/ replied "the little girl. ‘I biiA-e a had cold, mild can’t call any louder than that.’