Fun.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIII, Issue 1926, 8 November 1884, Page 2 (Supplement)

Fun.

A Man of Ability. "So you want a situation as conductor, do you ?" said the president of the road. " Yes, sir," the applicant replied. " Have you the necessary qualifications for such a responsible position ?" " I am sure I have, sir." " Well, suppose your train should i"meet with a serious disaster, in which a number of passengers would be killed and a large amount of property destroyed, what action would you take in such a case ?" " I woul(j telegraph the newspapers that the accident was of little importance, and then send word to the president of the road to sell the stock short." ♦• H'm," replied the president, " I am afraid thosejare not the proper qualifications for a good conductor, but you are a man, of ability. I see. "We want a first-class superintendent, You can consider yourself engaged as superintendent of the road at a salary of 10,000 Jols. a year." — Philadelphia Gall.

. A young married man, who has one night a week out, is in the habit of coming home in the early hours of the morning, and of being received accordingly by his spouse. A few days ago he happened to return home before midnight. Being desirous of making, so to speak, a record for himself, he was anxious that his wife should know the time. He indulged in a good deal of noise. He slammed doors, shoved chairs, and thvew his shoes about. He coughed and wheezed. He turned the gas up,, so that the room was flooded with glaring light. But all this was. to no purpose. His wife, who generally slept so lightly that she would be awakened by his softest tread, dozed quietly through all the din and racket. He crawled into bed, mad, to say the least. He had missed two or three hours more of fun, and he knew that his wife would not believe him when he told her, in the morning, of hid early return. She didn't 1

" I didn't think that, Mrs. C had so much feeling," observed a lady who was movel by the tears of the widow at a Fifth Avenue funeral, "Pooh," exclaimed her friend, " You don't think she's weeping for her husband do you ?" "What's the cause of her sorrow then ? " "It isn't sorrow at at all. She's crying because the coffin trimmings are all last year's styles."

The smell of soapsuds in the air, The floor and walls entirely bare, The piles of debris everywhere, The housewife with a vacant stare, Are signs which all men fear. They know that when they stumble o'er The pots and beetles on the floor, They'll clutches freshly painted,, And vainly, wildly thirst for gore, Because, as in the days of yore, Housj- cleaning time is here. — Ncio York Morning Join nal.

A man's wife, up in Modesto, recently presented him with triplets — all girla. We respectfully suggest to the aforesaid martyr that he call the first-born Kate, the second Duplicate, and the last Triplicate. A combination of novelty and utility in designation will then be satisfactorily effected.

Little Nell — " Mamma, what is color blind ? " Mamma — " Inability to tell one color from another, dear." Little Nell — " Then I dess the man that made my g'ography is color blind.' 5 Mamma — " And why, pet ? " Little Nell—" 'Tause he's got Greenland painted yellow." — Philadelphia Call.

" Is your father at home, bubby ? " "Yeth, thir." "Can I see him?" " No, thir." " Why, not ? " " Cauth he'th locked up and mother's gone shopping with the key of the room in her pocket."

A cAMEii will work for seven or eight days without drinking. In this he differs from some men, who will drink seven or eight days without working.

Henry Doee, of Eochester, was kicked by a horse Sunday and received a broken leg. Now let somebody sing, " Never take the horseshoe from the Dore" to him.

Grocer, who has lately joined the militia, practising in his shop: "Eight, left, right, left. Four paces to the rear ; march ! "—falls down trap-door into the cellar. Grocer's wife, anxiously: " Oh, Jim, are you hurt?" Grocer, savagely, but with dignity: "Go away, woman; what do you know about war ? " — Laraviie Boomerang.

" Now, there's a beauty, isn't it? " proudly observed a wealthy Cincinnati pork mer- * chant, pointing to an elaborately . carved empty picture frame hanging upon his parlor wall. "That's what I call a work of art; coat me 5000 dollars in Paris." "But Where's the picture?" asked the guest- ■ " Oh, wifey and I chucked that away. We was afraid the colors wasn't fast, and they might have spiled the gilt."

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