ALLEGED HUMOR.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 107, 13 August 1910, Page 9

ALLEGED HUMOR.

LOVE. "What is love?" she asked. "Love," he answered, "ia a brand of insanity that makes a man call a 200pound woman his little tootsy-wootsy." THE INEVITABLE. 'Hostess: Mr. Squibs is going to sing a comic song. Guest: I knew something, would happen. I upset the salt at the dinnertable. AN ECHO. They were heckling at a political meeting. At last 'he could stand it m longer. I "Who brayed there?" he cried out, sarcastically. "It was only ian echo," retorted some- : body, amidst much laughter. THE PRODIGAL AND THE CALF. The prodigal son had returned. "Father," 'he said, "are you going to kill the fatted calf?" "No," responded the old man, looking at the youth carefully; "no, I'll let you live. But I'll put you to work and train some of the fat off." WHERE THE WEIGHT WAS LOST. "You're not looking well, 'Mrs. Giles. Surely you have lost ia lot of flesh lately, have you not?" "I have that. I've lost me 'huban'; *e weighed nineteen stone when 'e died." BETTER OUT OF FASHION. Mr. A. (recently betrothed): Can 1 confide in you, young man? Jeweller's Assistant: Why, yes, sir. Mr. A.: My intended is undecided 'be-1 tween a ring and a necklace. For goodness' sake, tell her necklaces are out of fashion, or else I shall become a bankrupt and you won't get paid. WOULD IF HE COULD. The man who is always taking up new fads and ouilts accosted the long-haired stranger in the street. "My friend," he began, persuasively, "I am a follower of Dr. Fletcher. Let me tell you how to chew your beefsteak." "First tell me where to get the beefstead," sighed the long-haired man, as his face lengthened, "I am a poet." , MUST SPEAK THE TRUTH. "My dear," said a vain old man to his wife, "these friends here won't believe that I'm only forty-five years old. You know I speak the truth, don't you?" "Well," answered the simple wife, "I suppose I must believe it, John, as you've stuck to it for fifteen years." ETIQUETTE NOT ISP IT. The Landlady: Can I help you to some more soup, Mr. Dumley? Mr. Dumley: No, thanks. Landlady (engagingly): Don't refuse, Mr. Dumley, because it isn't considered good form to be helped twice to soup; we're not particular people here. Mr. Dumley: Oh, etiquette has nothing to do with it, madam; it's the Boup. HIS FAVORITE DISH. Nora: You see, you were quite mistaken in saying that Dr. Birkenstock didn't care a rap about nte.. - He told me himself he did yesterdayi' and decMred he could eat me. (Lola: 'I congratulate you. Your sweetheart's favorite dish is evidently goose. SHOULD BE MORE CAREFUL. Mistress (to maid): I understand that you had company yesterday afternoon, Mary. Who was it? Mary: Only my iAiumt Nellie, mum. Mistress: Well, when you see her again, Mary, kindly tell her that «b» left heT tobacco-pouch and matches on the piano. PREPARING FOB THE WORST. Customer: Would you kindly let me) see *he most atrocious—l mean th», worst-looking" neckties you have in stock?" Shopman: Why—these here are two lor •fourpence ha'penny; these are Customer: Oh, I don't want to buy; I simply want to know the worst. I want to prepare myself for my wife's birthday present; that is all, thank you." WAS SHE NEARSIGHTED? "Father, do you like mother?" "Why, yes, of course." "And she likes you?" "Of course she does." "Did she ever say so?" "Many ft time, my son." "Did she marry you because she loved you?" "Certainly she did." The boy scrutinised his parent closely. "Well, was she as near-sighted then as she is now?" asked the youth, blandly. JUST A PRELIMINARY. William's brother had killed a man in cold blood. "Well, William, how aibout your brother?" a visitor to the town asked him one dav after the trial. "Why," said William, "they've put him in gaol for a month." "That's rather a light sentence for a cold-blooded murder," said the gentleman. "Yes, sir," William admitted; 'T»ut at the month's end they're going to hang him." JUST THE iRIGHT LENGTH. A Bishop, while staying at a country vicarage, iwos roused in the morning by a female voice in the kitchen singing hymns. On going down to breakfast he congratulated the girl on her excellent cooking, and also on thus beginning the day with praise. "Oh, yes, my lord," replied the girl, a brisk country lass; "'Onward, Christian Soldiers,' is just the right length for boiling the eggs, and 'The Church's One Foundation' for frying the bacon." PRACTICE THAT MADE PERFECT.

"Yes, sir," says the barber, deftly rubbing the lather into the scalp of the patron. "I was ship's barber on a transpacific steamer for five years, until the ship was wrecked and I was oast away on an island in 'the South Seas. I lived there for two years, and never saw a human being; but, nmhen I was rescued, I natter, myself I was a 'better Shampooer than ever. I kept in practice all the time."

"How did you manage it?" asked Hie patron: '