Miscellaneous.

Wairoa Bell, Volume V, Issue 168, 21 October 1892, Page 6

Miscellaneous.

One still makes much whiskey, and much whiskey makes one still—sometimes. Teacher (to youngster who has been misbehaving)—‘ Now, Bobby, don’t you know- where bad boys go ?, Bobby— ‘ Yes, ma’am ; over their mother’s knee,’ A social catechism— ‘ And what do you mean by a wise man ?’ ‘ One who can do without the world,’ ‘ And by a fool ?’ 1 One who fancies that the world cannot do without him,’ J Do 1 understand from this,’ said he, ‘ that you wish me to cease calling here ?’ ‘ Not at all,’ said she ; 4 papa and mamma will always be glad to see you.’ ‘ Ah, I’m saddest when I sing,’ She sang in plaintiff key, And all the neighbours yelled ‘ So are we ! So are we !’ An Episcopal clergyman, who rather likes a joke, was engaged to read the service for auother minister, and was hurrying to church a little belated on Sunday. A friend, struck by his uncommon speed, asked, ' Sir, why so fast?’ ‘ In order that he who runs may read.’ was the reply, ‘ I want a glass of stout, please, and give me a good head on it.’ He gets a glass of stout and examines it critically. * Here, I say, this is all froth.’ ‘ Well you asked me for a good head, didn’t you ?’ ‘ Yes ; I wanted it with a good head, but not with such a jolly short neck.’ The New York City Council has achieved a national reputation from the slowness with which it accomplishes nothing. An alderman, meeting an enterprising citizen on Broadway, said, ‘ We had a very important two hours’ session of the City Council this afternoon.’ ‘ What passed?’ ‘ Well, ihe two hours passed.’ _

* Now, sir,’ said Mr Badger—Bustle, Q. C., 1 do you on your oath, swear this is not your writing ?’ ‘ I think not,’ replied the witness. ‘No thinking, sir ! Does it resemble your writing ?’ * I can’t say it does.’ *Do you swear it does not resemble your writing ?’ * I do.’ Do you take your oath this writing does not resemble yours ?’ ‘ Ye-es,’ ‘ Now, bow do you know?’ ‘ ’Cause I can’t write. ‘ You love my daughter ?’ ejaculated the old man. ‘ Love her !’ he exclaimed passionately ; ‘ why, sir, I would die for her. For one soft glance from those sweet eyes I would hurl myself from yonder cliff and perish on the two hundred feet below.’ The old man shook his head, ‘ I’m something of a liar myself,’ he remarked, ‘ and one is enough for a small family like mine.’ In Ireland recently a quarrel had taken place at a fair, and the culprit was being sentenced for manslaughter. The doctor, however, had given evidence to show that the victim’s skull was abnormally thin. The prisoner, on being asked if he had anything to say for himself, replied, * No, yer honour; but I would ask— Was that a skull for a man to go to a fair wid ?’