LOVE'S QUANDARY. She (on her bridal tour): OH, DAN, I'M SO UNHAPPY. She: IF I AM AS MUCH TO YOU AS YOU SAY, YOU CAN'T BE SORRY YOUR FIRST WIFE DIED, AND THAT Child of the Night: Us PURFESSIONALS CAN'T EXPECT TO HAVE NO PRIVACY SO LONG AS THEM WIRES IS ALLOWED TO TELEGRAFT OUR LITTLE BIZNISS TRANSACTIONS; NOTHIN' BUT MY PRIDE KEEPS ME FROM TURNIN' HONEST AND RESPECKABLE! The ancient gun corroded; And as you die you hear him say He didn't know 'twas loaded. LITTLE JIM'S COMPOSITION ON "KICKERS." NE time there was a wall-eyed ole mule which was a ON kicker from way back. He'd work steady an' wear a benine smile for 29 days jist to git to kick his master gallywest on the 30th. He'd grone an' ackt sick all day layin' loe till some humane person came up to pity him an' then he'd let out them hind legs of his'n an' kick the humane person into the middle of next week. Then he'd keerlessly flick a fly offen his south ear an' grin peaceful, as much as to say: "Hain't I a loller?" Well, one day a sorrerful lookin' stranger drest in grizzly whiskers an' hard red hands drifted in between a Jackson wagon an' this here mule's caboose end, an' the mule wunk his good eye an' says: "Jest lay loe an' watch yer uncle kick this here unsofistykated ole jiboose through that Jackson wagon without scuffin' the varnish." "You ortn't to kick me," says the stranger, "I alwers was a friend of your'n." "How's that?" asked the mule. "Well," says the man, "I'm a member of the Farmers' Alliance, an' I alwers JULY 4, 1776. THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE SIGNED. suit of clothes you are wearing. UNCLE EBONY: Yes, sah. Dat suit ob clothes was guv ter me by de wife of de geman dat stood behin' my mule. Indignant Wife: HERE, SIR, IS THE PHOTOGRAPH OF A STRANGE WOMAN I FIND YOU ARE IN THE HABIT OF CARRYING AROUND IN YOUR POCKET. I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION. Husband: WHY, PSHAW! MY DEAR, I FELL IN LOVE WITH THAT GIRL LONG BEFORE OUR MARRIAGE. PROF. SWIFT, of the Warner Observatory, in Rochester, whose eight-tailed comet lately divided public interest with the May convention, is about to be bilked of part of his sky by the rising roof of a Presbyterian church. Consequently the Warner Observatory is going to shut up and (perhaps) go West. It remains for the brethren of the other sects to assure Prof. Swift that he is not the first man who has had to choose whether to be content with a narrow view of Heaven, or get away from a Presbyterian church. IN HER PEW. HE looked up from her pew. SHE (Why she did, Heaven knows!) But I smiled, wouldn't you? 'Twas the right thing to do, And, pshaw! Nobody knew. Then I tried hard to pose, But a look of hers froze All my blood-and I woo ANOTHER "Affaire de Cur." |