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Waikato Times, Volume XXIII, Issue 1902, 13 September 1884, Page 6

fun.

His greatest enemy : A good country priest said to a dying drunkard : "My friend* you must reconcile yourself with your enemies." " Then," groaned the dying man, " give me a glass of water ! "

"I don't think much of that," said a waiter, scornfully, as he picked up a two-cent piece given him by a customer. " Neither do I, ir replied the customer ; " otherwise I shouldn't have given it to you."

A man and wife were looking at the snakes in the Zoo when the latter said : " Can you distinguish the male from the female?" " No," he replied ; " but it is an easy matter for naturalists." "How do they know?" she asked. "By the extra amount of venom on the female's tongue."

They were standing at the front gate. " Won't you come in the parlor and sit a little while, Georgie dear ? " " N-no, I guess not," replied George, hesitatingly. " I wish you would," the girl went on ; " it's awfully lonesome. Mother has gone out, and father is up-stairs groaning with rheumatism in the legs." "Both legs?" asked George. "Yes, both legs." " Then I'll come in."

Abbaham Haywakd, in his younger days and until very lately, held aristocracy in awe. Apropos of this, Thackeray used to tell how, on the occasion of their first dining with the Duke of Newcastle, and going together from the Garrick in a cab, he transfixed Hayward with terror and amazement by taking out a shilling at the hall at Portman Square, amid all the caparisoned flunkies, and offering to toss up to Bee who should pay the fare.

"This is a story of George D. Prentice which I never saw in print," says Bill Nye, " and which is a better illustration of hia ready wit than anything else he said, I think. The old Journal office used to be stamping, ground of many Southern men, more or less known, who likad to hear the veteran journalist tell a story or warm up a presumptuous young man ior lunch. Among those who frequented the Journal office was Will S. Hays, the song-writer. Coming into Mr. Prentice's office one day, in that free-and-easy way of his, he sat down in one chair, with his feet on another, and jamming hia hat on the back of his head, said, without consulting Mr. Prentice's leisure : ♦ Seen my last song, George?' Mr. Prentice ceased writing, sighed heavily, and, looking up sadly and reproachfully at the young man, said : 11 1 hope so, Billy.' "

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