UNKNOWN

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXVIII, Issue 3643, 28 April 1906, Page 4

UNKNOWN

Once I was ua-\<:vh to an ' n’-rSMt la Ontwio, vbj ulau van a nr: '4 s{u “ ~ was as peppary ea a cayenne r-“d. <!n ‘- time to time cv. Corners and \ ..b.msrpr-’.:ig Jokes on him just for tin- Inn c; hwn-u-2 him Wow off. On one oec?.ri-.m a v„l dressed young fellow culled nt tbe s..opr..id asked the doctor to pre.-xrlbs bi'oakIngoutand n rash on his kit aim. ine doctor examined the limb and pronounced It to be a bad c;uso of psoriasis and eczema. **l suppose, doctor, you can cure it? kaiu the patient. “Why, certainly,” replied tho uoctor. “How long will it tako to get well “Oh, I guess about two months, sa.tl the doctor. “Quite sure, sir—is it a had case? “Positively the worst I've seen.” “Then I will leave it with you and call for it again when cured,” solemnly said the patient, slowly unfastening arm, which waa an artificial one and paiuted for tu6 occasion.—Chemist and Druggist, Fains Taking.

Bums Enow Better. It was the fate of a practical and patriotic Scotchman of Rochester to assist at a meeting of a curtain improvement society, the While a Shakespeat etpi scholar dilated upon, the virtues of his favorite writer. At the close pf the meeting the stranger approached tho lecturer, and tho following dialogue ensued: “Ye think a fine lot o’ Shakespeare, doctor?” “I do, sir,” waa the emphatic reply. “An ye think ha was mair clever than Rabbi Bttraa?” “Why, there’s no comparison between them.” “Maybe no, but ye tell us the nicht it waa Shakespeare who wrote ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.’ Now, Rabbi would never hae written elo nonsense as that.” “Nonsense, sir?” thundered the indignant doctor, “Aye, just nonsense. Rabbi would hae kent flne that a king, or a queen either, dlsns gaito bed wi' the 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 credits. Kindly remit at once.”

Inclosed iu 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.—Ken- York lieraid. foreign Travel Improves. Successful Farmer—Son George got some sense durin that h.reign tour anyhow. Wife—l hnin’tsecn it. “I have. You know lie spent a good while In LmiJicn, us he calls it ?” “Yes, an I’d like to know what good it did.’’ “Use y’r eyes, Miranda. He learned to turn up bin pants w'eu it rains.’’— Now York Weekly. A Considerate Debtor, Collector--\Vhon 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 cuiivcnkr.tly? “1 could call on Saturday.” “All right. From now on I shall expect you every Saturday.”—Texas Siftings. An Heirloom. Droper—Do you Kiieve Sprinkler’s assertion that the stylish umbrella he carries was owned by his great grandfather? Pourer—Oh, yes; he says his grandfather !iut a now stick in It, his father a new rame, and Sprinkler has had it covered.— Clothier and Haberdasher. No Good, First Colored Gamester— l’ve got t’rws kings. Second Ditto—Dey’s no good. “Watcher got?” “A razor.”—Binghamton Leader. A Superior Scheme. Mrs. Dontkno—Mrs. Muscavado employe none but elderly servants. Mrs, Knowltall—That Is to give *traa--s;era the impressien that they have been ta he family for many years,—Truth. ' The Ugly Heiress. Fortune Teller—Your husband will be a poor man. Inquirer—How can you tell that? 1 Fortune Teller—Well, rich men don’t marry for money.—Life. —— i Why She Objected. “Mrs. Sinks is very bitter in her condemnation of poker, Isn’t she?” said the caller. “Yes,” replied the hostess. “You know Mr. Sinks 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. Bis Share. Yes, this la her picture, drawn By the sun's resistless flashl Eyes of hazel like a fawn, Hidden by the drooping lash. Each a neck and shoulders tool Ah, I thought you’d like her arms. Surely artist never drew Any goddess with such charmsl Flatters her? Oh, no, not mnehl Her complexion’s like a peach, j And her smile—that soulful touch Which the lens could never reach. Lucky man? Well, maybe, sir. But this picture and one curl Are all I have left of her, For Jock Stockton got the glrll —Barry Remains In Vogue,