Page 4 Advertisements Column 1

Manawatu Herald, 25 February 1905, Page 4

A Bail Casj, Once Iwas assistant to an elderly doctor la Ontario, who also ran a drug store. He was as peppery as a cayenne pod, and from time to time customers and patients sprung jokes on him just for the fun of hearing him blow off. On one occasion a well dressed young fellow called at the shop and asked the doctor to prescribe breaking out and a rash on his left aim. The doctor examined the bmb and pronounced It to be a had ' eof psoriasis and eczema. “I suppose, d> .•!• you can cure it?” said the patient. “Why, certainly,” replied the doctor. “How long will it take to get well?” “Oh, I guess about two months,” said the doctor. “Quite sure, sir—is it a bad case?” “Positively tho worst I’ve seen." “Then I will leave it. with you and call for it again when curcepi.solemnly said the patient, slotvly unfastening arm, which was an artificial one and painted for the occasion.—Chemist and Druggist. Pams Taking —Ufa. Burns Knew Better. It was tho fate of a practical and patriotic Scotchman ef Rochester to assist at a meeting of a certain improvement society, the while a Shakrspearo.'pi scholar dilated upon tho virtues of his favorite writer. At the close of the meeting the stranger approached tho lecturer, and the following dialogue ensued: “Ye think a fine lot o’ Shakespeare, doctor?” “I do, sir,” was tho emphatic reply. “An yo think ho was mair clever than Rabbi Burns?” “Why, there’s no comparison between them.” “Maybe no, but yo tell us the nicht it was Shakespeare who wrote ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.' Now, Rabbi would never hae written sic nonsense as that.” “Nonsense, sir?” thundered the indignant doctor. “Aye, just nonsense. Rabbi would baa kent fine that a king, or a queen either, disna gat to bed wi’ tho croon on their head. They hang it ower the back o’ a chair!”—Exchange. Habit. “You have paid me nothing on account of my bill for six months," wrote a tailor to the editor of a suburban paper recently. “My capital,” he continued, “does not admit of my giving such long oredits. Kindly remit at once.” Inclosed in the envelope was a duplicate copy of the bill long past due, which the editor, solely through the force of habit as he maintained, inscribed "respectfully declined,” and then tossed it into the waste basket.—New York Herald. Foreign Travel Improves. Successful Farmer—Son George got some sense durin that foreign tour anyhow. Wife—l haiu’tseen it. “I have. You know he spent a good while In Limuon, ns ho calls it?" “Yes, an I’d like to know what good it did.” “Use y’r eyes, Miranda. lie learned to turn up Ida pants wTn it rains.”—New York Weekly. A Considerate Debtor. Collector—When are you going to pay this bill? I can’t be coming here everyday in the week. Debtor—Well, what day could you come on conveniently? “I could call on Saturday.” “All right. From bow on I shall expect you every Saturday.*—Texas Siftings. An Heirloom. Droper—Do you believe Sprinkler’s assertion that the stylish umbrella he carries was owned by his great grandfather? Pourer—Oh, yes; he says his grandfather put a new stick in It, his father a now frame, and Sprinkler has had it covered.— Clothier and Haberdasher. No Good. First Colored Gamester—l’ve got free kings. Second Ditto—Dey’s no good. “Watcher got?" “A razor.*—Binghamton Leader. A Superior Scheme. Mrs. Dontkno—Mrs. Mnacavado employe none but elderly servants. Mrs. Knowitall—That is to give stranf:era the impressien that they hav* been la he family for many years.—Truth. The Ugly Heiress. Fortune Teller—Your husband will ba A poor man. Inquirer-How can you tell that? Fortune Teller—Well, rich men don’t marry for money.—Life, Why She Objected. “Mrs. Binks is very bitter in her condemnation of poker, isn’t she?” said the caller. "Yes,” replied tho hostess. “You know Mr. Binks plays a wretched game. ’ ’—Washington Star. Information Wanted. Mrs. Gay—Mary, did I see you kissing my husband this morning? Mary—At what time?—Boston Budget. His Share. Yes, tide is her picture, drawn By the sun’s resistless flash! Eyes of hazel like a fawn, Hidden by tho drooping lash. Such a neck and shoulders too! Ah, I thought you’d like her arms. Surely artist never drew Any goddess with such charms! Flatters her? Oh, no, not muchl Hor complexion’s like a peach. And her smile—that soulful touch Which the lens could never reach. Lucky man? Well, maybe, sir. • But this picture and one curl 1 Are all I have left of her, For Jack Stockton got the girll i —Harry Romalno In Ycgfg| J