ALLEGED HUMOR.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 242, 18 February 1911, Page 10

ALLEGED HUMOR.

WHO WROTE HAMLET: School Inspector (cross-questioning the terrified class): And now, boys, who wrote Hamlet '! Timid Boy: P-p-please, sir, it wasn't me. Inspector (the same evening to his host, a leading settler): Most amusing thing happened to-day. I was questioning the class, and asked a boy who wrote "Hamlet," and he answered, tearfully, "P-p-please, sir, it wasn't me." Settler (after loud and prolonged laughter): Ha! ha! That's good; and I suppose the little beggar had done it all the time!

ONE IN A MILLION. Gentleman (to dog dealer): I gave you a high price for this dog because you warranted it to be a good house dog. My house was broken into last night and the dog never even barked. Dog Dealer: No, sir, I quite believes yer. Ho was too busy loo'kin' for the burglars, so as to be able to identify 'em, to even think of barking If you was out with this 'ere dog, and was to meet 'em burglars, he'd know 'em in la minute. He ain't no common barkin' dog; he's a reg-lar 'teetive, an' worth 'is weight in gold, he is. WELL PLANNED. It was really very sweet, and the elderly visitor, who was awaiting the hostess in the drawing-room, smiled benignly as children's voices, coming from somewhere below, joined in the melodious of "Come back to Erin." Desirous of hearing still more, she stepped, out to the head of the stairs and listened. Then, above the melody, flhe discerned the hoarse whisper of a small boy: "Sing up, Sis! Sing up! One more turn o' the 'airpin 'll do it; but if yer don't make more row ma 11 hear the lock go click!" Then suddenly the singing stopped—the pantry door had yielded. Little Man (threateningly): I, say, Mr. Straightcly, did you tell Mr. Walker I was a liar. Big Man (coolly): No, sir, I did not. It's my opinion Mr. Walker doesn't want any telling. Old Gentleman: Well, my little lad, are you going fishing, or are you going to school? Little Lad: I dunno yet. "i m just a wrestling with me conscience. "How do you like the new oatmeal soap?" enquired the barber, wielding the lather-brush with extraordinary freedom. "Seems nourishing," the customer replied, with a splutter; "but I've had my breakfast. ' Visitor: Is your clock right? Tired Hostess (at the end Of her patience and politeness): Oh, no! That's the one we call "The Visitor." Visitor: What a quaint name! Why? Hostess: Because it doesn't go! Teacher: Johnny, what part of speech is "nose"? Johnny: 'Tisn't any. Teacher: Ah, it must be. Johnny: Maybe yours is, because you talk through it; but the only part of speech I've got is my mouth. She: You puckered up your lips' so, then, that I thought you were going to kiss me. He: No; I got some grit in my mouth.

She: Well, for goodness' sake swallow it! You need it in your system. The following are extracts from a music catalogue: "Trust Her Not"—for four shillings. "I Would Not Live Always"—without accompaniment. "See the Conquering Hero Comes" —with full orchestra, "Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming"—with illuminated cover. 'There was a Little Fisher Maiden"—in three parts. "Have you tried a typewriter?" asked one city man of another, as they chatted together w the railway carriage on their way home after business. "I have," responded the merchant addressed, visions of the fluffy-haired damsel wko had manipulated the machine floatiag hefore his mind's eye; "and she tried me, too—for breaeh of promise." Manager of boot and shoe department (to new clerk): What size shoe does a woman with a No. 4 foot wear. New Clerk: No. 4. Manager: How do you sell her a No. 4? Clerk: By telling her it's a No. 2. Manager: You'll do.

'"Gam 'ome," shouted the injured han-som-cab driver, who had been paid only a shilling over his legal fare. "Garn 'ome; anyone can sey er ain't used to cabs."

"My man," was the calm reply of the fare, "for a person in your comparatively station in life you are an acute and clever observer of human nature. You are quite right; I am not used to cabs. I generally use my thousand-pound motor car."

Some people went to call on a very rich man in America, and in one of the rooms admired a magnificent mirror. Looking a litle closer, however, one of them exclaimed: "It's a really beautiful piece of glass, but what a pity it is so scratched all over."

The American looked at it anxiously for a moment, then he said, "You're right. It is scratched." Then, turning to his wife, he added, "Say, Martha you mustn't give the children any more diamonds to play with."

Brown, Jones and Smith, respectively legal, divinity and medical students, were discussing the merits of their future professions.

"We punish the rogues," said Brown, "and give honest men their own." "Yes," observed Jones, "but we show people the way to go to heaven." "We're the best after all," remarked Smith, "for we send people there!"

Stubbs: What is the social position of the Scrubinses?

Te/l'er: Oh, they are the scum of ciety.

Muscular Bystander (savagely): I beg your pardon, young man, but Mr. Scrubins is my unelc, and allow mo to inform you that he is one of the leaders—T may say, at the top of society in this town. Tofl'er (taken back): Oh, ah, yes—cr—er—well, of course, the seum alwavs is on top, isn't it? Good morning!

Old William, the man of all work, is very much married, and it is an open secret that every quarter his wife comes up to the house and receives his wages. A few weeks ago his master was endeavoring to persuade him to accept a money payment instead of the daily allowance of beer which he reecivetl. "Why do you refuse 1" enquired his employer, "I offer you half a crown a week, and that is worth more than your pint and a-half of ale a day." "Yes, sir, that, may be," replied William; "but s'posing I did as you wish, sir, the old woman would get the money while now I do get the yale."