Wit and Humour.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2443, 6 March 1909, Page 9 (Supplement)

Wit and Humour.

“According to this paper,” observed Mr Goodwin, “a man has lived a year on beer alone.”

“ Well, that’s as it should be,” ohsoi’ved Mrs Goodwin. “Any man wlio lives on beer ought to bo compelled to live alone.”

“It was blowing hard when we ran out of port,” began the old salt,, impressively. “But I suppose you’d got some sherry or something to go on with f” said the'" sympathetic listener.

First Little Girl:. “\ T our papa and mamma, are not real parents. They adopted you.” Second Little Girl: “Well, that makes it all the more satisfactory. My parents picked me out,.and yours had to take you just as you came/

“If you didn’t take so much interest in horses you would be better ofi, ’ snapped Mrs Growler. “You have had horses on. your brain all your life,” . , , “I suppose that is how I happened to marry a nag,” retorted Mr Growler his face ambuscaded behind the sport-ing-paper.

“What did father say when you told him of our engagement?” asked the young lady. “Well—er—really, Phyllis—” began the ineligible young man. “Ob, leave out the strong language.” ~ “Then there’s nothing to tell you.

“Been standing there long?” asked the millionaire from the depths of his fur coat. . , , , “Hours, sir,” replied the beggar. “Cold?’ ’ * i ■ ■ ( “Frozen, sir,” said the mendicant, with rising hope. . “All,” said the millionaire, as lie walked on, “now what you want, to do is to move about a bit.”

Doorkeeper (at tlie musical comedy): “Don’t you want to come back?” Victim: “No.” Doorkoeper: “Well, take this passcheck, anyway. You can hand it to some chap outside.” Victim: “My dear fellow, I haven t an enemy in the world.”

She (after elopement): “I received a letter from papa to-day.” I-Ie: “Well?” She: “He writes that he had just finished making liis will.” “He: “Did he remember us?” She: “Yes, indeed. He has left all his money to an asylum for hopeless idiots.”

Customer: “Why are' you biting that sixpence I gave you?” Newsboy: “Tor make sure it’s a good ’un, guv’nor.” Customer: “Don’t you know that money swarms with microbes? Aren’t you afraid of getting a bad mouth f” Newsboy: “Not ’arf so much as I am of gittin’ a bad tanner, guv nor! ’

Dressed in 'the latest and most approved motor-cycling costume, with goggles-all complete, the motor-cyclist gaily tot-tooted his way towards the Zoo. Suddenly lie slackened, dismounted, and said to a small, grubby urchin:

“I say, boy, am I right for the Zoo?”

The boy gasped at so strange a sight, and thought it must be some new animal for the gardens. “You may be all right- if they have a spare cage,” lie said, when bo could find liis tongue, “but you’d lnv stood a far better chance if you’d a tail.”

The palo, proud girl turns to the big, heavy-browed man, who is gazing at her so intently. He has a glittering knife in his hand. “Have you no heart?” she asks, in low, even tones. “No,” he tells her. “Then give me twopenny worth of liver.” Rapidly cutting off the desired amount, the butcher wraps it np for her, gives her the change, and turn? to wait on the next customer. “Be you Dr Ponder?” asked a tall, lean man walking into the consultingroom of a fashionable Chicago practitioner. “I am,” replied the doctor. “Well, look a-liere. old feller,” remarked tho visitor, “I’m glad to find yer at last. D’ye remember in ’9B. when you was in London, how yer set a feller’s arm and didn’t charge him for it?” “Yes,” said the- doctor, with the prospect of a big fee rising before him. “Well, sir,” said the visitor, “I’m tihat feller, an’ I’ve broke the other arm. so I’m come to have it fixed on the same terms.” / WHO HE WAS. A little, wiry negro went into a drinking resort in Natchez, displayed a large roll of bills, and bought a drink. As he was paying for it another negro came in .very large and very black. Ho looked at the little man and said, “Niggah, whar you git all dat money ?” “Bali-tcndali,” said the little negro, by way of a reply, “Ah thing All shall tek a bottle of dat-ah stuff. ’Pears quite satisfyin’ tub meli.” “Niggah,” roared thc big one, “wliar you git dat money? I ast you. I’a the town bully,, I is. I follows bullyin’ for a trade’. Whar you git it?”

The little negro began stuffing tho money back into his pockets. “Seems to me,”‘he mused, “I ain’t got ’miff pockets to hold all mall wealth.” The big negro jumped at the little one. “You hear what I said?” he demanded. “I’s tho town bully, an’ I wanter know whar you git all dat money ?” Quick ns a flash, the little negro uppercut tho big one, catching him on tho point of tho jaw, and knocking him do\vn. In ft moment the big negro revived enough to look up from tlie floor, and ask humbly, “Niggah, who is you, anyhow?” . “Why.” replied the little one, blowing his knuckles, *‘J. s th pussou vou thought you wuz when you como ui.”

I-Ic who serves well and speaks-not, merits more Than they who clamor loudest at the door .—Lon gfollow.