MISCELLANEOUS.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1772, 24 October 1879, Page 4

MISCELLANEOUS.

It ia wonderful how silent a man can be when ho knows hia 'Cause is just, and how boisterous he becomes when he knows he is in the wrong. The “Yonkers Gazette” has an article entitled. “ What do we eat ? ” That depends. If you live in a boarding-house no human being can tell.—“ Now York Express.” _ Judge—“ Prisoner, why will you drink ? Now look at me ! I am sixty, and I never tasted liquor.” Prisoner—“ You’ve lost lots of fun, then, judge, sure as you’re bom.” “ Remember whom you are talking to, sir,” said an indignant parent to a refractory boy, “I am your father.” “Well, who’s to blame for that ? ” said young impertinence ; “ ’tain’t me.” ■Sheridan, on one occasion, after a poor amateur performance, was asked what actor he liked beat. “The prompter,” said he, “ for I saw leas and heard more of him than any one else.” A Philadelphia gentleman at a restaurant table was greatly struck by the appearance of Alice Oates Titus Watkins ; immediately afterwards he was greatly struck by her husband. A woman raised to the third power of widowhood has the photographs of her three departed lords in a group, with a vignette of herself in the centre, and underneath is the inscription, “The Lord will provide.” A bachelor upon reading that “ two lovers will sit up all night with one chair in the room,” said it could not be done unless one of them sat on the floor. Such ignorance is painful. A poor hut high-spirited woman in Chicago pounds an old rag on the kitchen table every morning to make the neighbors believe she has beefsteak for breakfast.—“Stillwater Lumberman.” A Michigan farmer writes to the faculty of Yale : —“What are your terms forayear? And does it coat anything extra if my son wants to learn to read and write as well as row a boat ? ” The editor who quashed a juicy cockroach with the butt end of his lead pencil and afterwards forgetfully sucked at the same while wooing a coy expression, suddenly found a word, but it proved to be foreign to the subject under consideration.— “Rochester Express.” The “Virginia Chronicle ” says :—“Professor Meloni, the brass and string bandit, was interviewed by a man who wanted a situation in the band. ‘ What can you play ? ’ asked the professor. ‘ Well, I ain't much for fiddlin’, but if you want wind stuffed into a cornet or wind belted out of a brass drum, I’m yer oyster ! ’ He was engaged.” A Marthon boy came home with his hair dripping wet, having just come out of the swimming hole. He was equal to the emergency, and escaped a busy time with hia mother and a birch sprout by wearily wiping his forehead and remarking :—“lt’s awful hot work hoeing down there in the garden.” “Samuel Spriggs, the only place in town where you can get eleven pounds of sugar for a dollar, five dollars,” was the way a well-to-do grocer signed a subscription list towards the erection of a new church. Eat onions. We once knew a poor unfortunate who was the prey of every one. Poor people borrowed money of him, rich people ran! over him, book agents clung to him, insurance agents followed him from morning to night. Now no one goes near him.—“Stillwater Lumberman.” The principal of Vasaar College stepped suddenly into one of the recitation rooms and said:—“That person who is chewing gum will please step forward and put it on the desk.” The whole school stepped forward with one accord toward the desk, while the teacher slipped her quid beneath her tongue, and said ; —“ Leally, gurlls, I’m auppriseld ! ” “ Young man,’’ said a stern old Professor to a student who had been charged with kissing one of his daughters, “ Young man, don’t get into that habit. You’ll find that kissing is like eating soup with a fork.” “ How so, sir ? ” asked the student. “Because,” answered the stern old Professor, '‘you can’t get enough of it.” Grocers should never argue questions of philosophy with customers. “Bob, did you ever stop to think,” said a grocer recently, as he measured out half a peck of potatoes, “ that these potatoes contain sugar, water and starch ? ” “ Noa, I didn’t,” replied the boy, “but I heard mother say you put peas and beans in your coffee, and about a pint of water in every quart of milk you sold.” Nothing usually creates more consternation among the females of a family than to have the door-bell ring at nine in the morning, when the hired girl is down at the grocery after potatoes. They can’t make up their minds whether to show up at the door with no crimps and no belt on their wrappers, wait on the girl, or ask, “Who’s there?” between the shutters of a second storey window. —“Wheeling Leader.”

A Convert to Spelling Reform. —lt iz our deair to 4 word the cans uv spelin reform in every posibl wa. The discushon in onr vera midst, az it wur, has convurted us. It must be aparent to the duleat inteligunce that mena leters ar wasted by th prezent method, which so mena peepul hav found it almost impossabl tu lern. A fonetic sistum is th kureot thing, but which sistum shal we fix on ? We ar not sure that we hav hit th rite thing ourselves, but we ar bound tu throw off th shakuls which have fetturd th fredum uv expreshun 4 so mena thousands nv years. We hav bin enroled 4th fite, and will yeeld tu no tirony uv faahun or custum. —“ Philadelphia Press.” “ Look at de pieanna, folkses,” said old Sam Johnson, the other night, to a roomful of his sable friends—“look at de pieanna! Dere is whar yous see an illegory, showing de proper spear ob de brack man. Doan yous see de common notes, de white trash, down in de lower row, all run togeder like a white-washed boa’d fence ? An’ up in de balconia yous see de brack notes, de people ob color, arranged in select assemblies of twos and frees,”—“BostonTranscript.” When a man becomes afflicted with the awful complaint of writing personal puffs of himself for a village newspaper, under a thin guise of news, he is not cured by a coldness on the part of the editor. The inveterate self flatterer simply carries “the news ” to the paper over the way, and lays the flattering unction to his soul that the world is blind. It is such things as these that keep a newspaper man away from church. He stays at home and ponders on the thinness of the stuff of which humanity is sometimes constructed. —“Turner Falla Reporter.” Missing Links. —The gorilla has never been known to beg a quarter of a dollar to buy a five-cent loaf with, nor to tear away from a friend to meet another gorilla just .around the corner. And no naturalist has ever yet noticed in an ape the peculiar and entirely comfortable expression of resignation which irradiates the face of the male variety of the genus homo on the death of a mother-in-law. There truly is a great deal missing besides the “links.” The Bonapartes. —There are eight men and boys now living who bear the name of Bonaparte, namely, three nephews and five grand nephews of the First Napoleon. They are : —Prince Jerome Napoleon, son of Jerome, fourth brother of Napoleon 1., and his two sons, the Princes Victor and Louis; then the descendants of Prince Charles, son of Lncien Bonaparte, second brother of the great Emperor. This Prince Charles’ sons are Prince Lucien Bonaparte ; the Cardinal Prince Napoleon Charles, ex-President of the Conseil-General of Corsica; Prince Louis Lucien, formerly Senator, and a long resident of London ; and lastly, Prince Pierre, whoso son. Prince Roland Bonaparte, is studying at the military school of St. Cyr.

Multum in Parvo. —The ex-Khedive has arrived at Naples with four of his wives and two hundred and twenty-five members of his household suite. His eight hundred and seventy-three wives left at home feel very lonesome, and every mail brings Mr Khedive eight hundred and seventy-three letters. He doesn’t answer them all separately. He writes one letter, commencing “My dear wife,” and closes with a postscript, saying; “Pass it around.”—“NorristownHerald.”

A man, however sensible and devout, ceases to he thankful for the immense fruit crop this year, the moment a ten-year-old boy smites him, at long, though accurate range, as to the back of his bald head with an over-ripe tomato about the size of a carriage sponge. In fact, ho doesn’t think very much about the fruit crop at all. His thought dwell with painful interest upon the absent boy, who may be dimly descried in the shadowy distance, making himself abaentor and abaenCer every jump.—Stillwater Lumberman,”

The London “ Lancet ” prescribes an ounce or two of pare West India lime juice, with sugar, as the best drink for hot weather. The “Lancet” ia right. But unless our memory fails us, he has left out one or two of the ingredients.—“ Philadelphia Evening Bulletin.” Ho was a distinguished boy. He had exercised groat caution, and had finally succeeded in crawling, unobserved, under the canvas into the tent. And he found it was not a circus, but a revival meeting in progress.—“ Boston Post.” A young lady graduate in a neighbouring county read an essay entitled ‘ ‘ Employment of Time.” Her composition was based on the text, “ Time wasted is existence ; used, is life.” The next day she purchased eight ounces of zephyr of different shades and commenced working a sky-blue dog with sea-green ears and a pink tail on a piece of yellow canvas. She expects to have it done by next Christmas. —“Norristown Herald.” His Defence. —The Judge (severely)— “ Prisoner, you are accused of attempting to murder your mother-in-law. What have you to say for yourself ? ” Prisoner (apologetically)—“Yes, sir; but my failure to do so is to be ascribed to causes entirely beyond my control.” The Judge (blandly)—“Oh, that alters the case. I shall suspend sentence, but you will not get off so easily if you are brought here again under similar circumstances. Gendarme, show this gentleman out. —French paper. Amateur acting was the order of the day. Marie Antoinette herself acted, among other characters, Rosine in the “Barbier de Seville,” but, alas ! she acted badly, and sang out of tune. The royal Princess also acted, and sang ‘‘spicy” songs. Monsieur, afterwards Louis XVIII, while sitting to Mme. Le Brnu, sang such vulgar songs, that Mme. Le Bruu wondered where he had learned them. Mme. Le Brun writes; “His voice was never in tune. ‘ How do you think I sing ?’ he asked one day. ‘ Like a Prince, Mouseigueur,’ I replied,” A most courtly answer. Royal Princes, whether they command an army, sing, fiddle or shoot, should do it well or not at all. George 111., who once took lessons on the violin, abandoned the pursuit when, in answer to a question as to how he was getting on, his master repliei :—“ There are three classes of performers—those who play well, those who play badly, and those who cannot play at all. Your Majesty is just entering the second class." The Prince of Wales also prided himself on his singing, and qnarrelled with his chaplain, the witty 11 Dean ” Cannon, because he would not agree with him that he sang a certain song better than anyone in London. Another royal duke of the period, who piqued himself on his shooting, having deprived his equerry of half his sight, complained that the wretched unfortunate made such a “ fuss about his eye.”