“INDUSTRY MUST PROSPER.”
As the man said when holding the baby while his wife chopped wood.
PLEASANT.
– To open your wife’s jewel-box and discover a strange gentleman’s hair done up as a keepsake.
ARDUOUS UNDERTAKING.
– A London auctioneer has undertaken to “knock down” Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in all Scotland.
A FRUGAL MEAL.
– “Well, how do you like your new place?” “O, bery well, Massa.” What did you have for breakfast this morning?” “Why, you see, Misses boiled tree eggs for herself and gib me the brort.”*
*A rough translation: - (“Well, how do you like your new place?” “O, very well, Master.” What did you have for breakfast this morning?” “Why, you see, Mistress boiled tree (three? the?) eggs for herself and gave me the fork?”)
ONE OR THE OTHER.
– A gentleman, when recently married, said, in bad grammar, to the officiating clergyman (a confirmed wit.) “I think I have done wise.” “Yes (replied the other), undoubtedly you have done wise or otherwise.”
A BROAD HINT.
– A buck, while being measure for a pair of boots, observed; “Make them cover the calf.” “Heavens!” exclaimed the astounded shoemaker, surveying his customer from head to foot, “I have not leather enough.”
GOING THE ENTIRE ANIMAL.
– “Miss, will you take my arm?” “La! Yes, and you too.” “Can only spare the arm, Miss, Miss,” hastily replied the Bachelor. “Then,” said Miss, “I can’t take it, as my motto is to go the whole hog, or none at all.”
ENIGMATICAL.
– A gentleman, on being asked what he had for dinner, replied, “A lean wife roasted, and the ruin of man for sauce.” What did his dinner consist of? Of course you give it up, and here’s the answer – a spare rib and apple-sauce.
A Lady’s Fainting Vanity
A LADY thought it would look interesting to faint away at a party the other evening. One of the company began bathing her temples and head with rum, when the lady exclaimed, “For Heaven’s sake, put nothing on that will change the colour of my hair!”
A PUZZLED IRISHMAN.
– Mr. O’Flaherty undertook to tell how many were at a party:
“The two Crogans was one; meself was two; Mike Finn was three; and – and - who the deuce was four?
Let me see (counting his fingers) – the two Crogans was one, Mike Finn was two, meself was three – and – bedad! There was four of us, but Saint Patrick couldn’t tell the name of the other.
Not it’s meself that has it. Mike Finn was one, the two Crogans was two, meself was three – and – and – by my sowl, I think there was but three of us afther all.”