What He Was

Manawatu Herald, 18 February 1905, Page 4

What He Was

' Cfoorge Clerko, the celebrated negro juinatrel, being cn ono occasion exam* Jned as a -witness, was severely interrogated by tlio barrister, who wished to break down his evidence. “You are in the negro minstrel business, I believe?” inquired the barrister. “Yes, sir,” was the prompt reply. “Is not that rather a low calling?” demanded the barrister. “I don’t know i.nt what it is, sir,” replied the i. .1... , “but it is so much better chan my father’s that I am rather proud of it.” “What was your father’s calling?” “He was a barrister,” replied Clarke In a tone that put the court in a roar of laughter, Different View*.

He—Weally, I cam’t see anything to larf at, you know. Bho—l can. —Club. He Could Get Married. A young colored girl of Philadelphia thua told her grievance to the court the Other day: “Mali name’s YirginyGeorgy Luzby, but I has hopes ob hit bein changed, an dat’s wot I’ze hyar fo’ ter kick erbout.” “Never mind that,” interrupted the magistrate, "go on with your story.” “Well,” continued the girl, “dls hyar niggah hez bin a-keopin Otunp’ny wif mo fo’ nigh onter six months, an he bin powerful sugary an lobin fo’ quite a spell. He’s a janitah in a skulo an kinder high inflooenced in grammah. Well, he promised fo’ ter marry me jes’ ez soon ez ho could affohd hit. He liiii affohd hit now, but ho •woan’,” “How do you know ho can afford to marry-you?” asked the judge. “How d’ I know I how d’ I know!” cried the girl. “Why, hit on’y tecks 50 cents fur ft license, an I seen him fiashin a dolnight; dat’s how I know.”' Ha Caught On. They were riding out in the suburbs—he the bashful youth and she the fair maiden who had been out riding before. She fidgeted awhile and then said, “Oh, Charley, I’m so afraid I will fall out.” “No danger. Tho road is as level as a floor.” “That may be, but I feel all the time just as though I would go overboard.” Then she let out a timid little scream, and ho grasped her firmly and said: “Don’t tumble. I’ll hold you.” “There,” she said, “you took a tumble at last, but I had to threaten to take one jnygelf before you caught on.” And after that she was held as securely as though tied totho seat with tho hitching ftfaCap." l A Great Record. The late William Young Sellar, whose hooka on tho Latin poets are so widely known and so much valued, was professor at tho University of Edinburgh. Ho was much beloved by his pupils pd had generally an exemplary patience trtth dullness and stupidity. We are fold, however, that one day the perverse Impenetrability of n blockhead was so intolerable that the professor at last dried out: “Sir, In translating that passage you |Save made more mistakes than the words Doubtful. Mn. Planking ton (to visitor, Willie jflimßon, who has just eaten the last piece of pie)—Won’t you have another piece, 'Wilh o ? There’s plenty more in *h£.r^»try? Willie (doubtfully)-! don’t know. If I thought that was so, I might. Mrs. Plankington—Why, what do you Don’t you believe what I tell fmt Wtme—Ma told me not to.- ? ■, J Ignorance Is Poverty. Tattered Tom —Well, I’m hummed 1 feagged Robert—Wot’s ther matter? Ain’t them soup tickets good? Tattered Tom—l wisht I’d paid more attention to mo studies when I was towag. Hero I’vo tramped 40 blocks to ft souphouso, an th’ woman inside says uem tickets calls fer soap , __ Much More. Lover —Give mo your hand, dearest. Adorable Object (extending a hand of more than generous proportions)—You foolish boy. Lover (sotto voce)—l believe you. This ht aa instance where tho supply jnore the demand.- '. . Too Much. Doctor— Yes, madam, I think you are overworked, I’atient—But do look at my tongue, doctor, and tell me why it looks so badly. PocTOt— Oh, that is also the result of overwork.- ... A Miscalculation. Mother—Now, never let me catch yon Alfhdjam again. Willie—l—l— tried not to let you catch ««this time.—j What It Wai. “Soup, sirf” “to it compulsory?’ “No, sob consomme." —Harvard Lampoon