"A GOOD WIT WILL MAKE USE OF ANYTHING"
Shakespeare, Henry the Fourth.
Scene—A Pit Village. Time—Saturday Night.
Barber (to bibulous customer). "Now, sir, if you don't hold your head back, I can't shave you!"
Pitman. "A'well, hinney, just cut me hair!"
What our Architect has to put up with.—Our Architect (Spotting Sixteenth Century gables). "That's an old bit of work, my friend!"
"Oi, sir, yeu be roight, theer, that you be!"
O. A. (keen for local tradition). "You don't know exactly how old, I suppose?"
"Well, noa, sir; but old it be! Whoi, I's knowed it myself these noine years!"
Our Village Industrial Competition.—Husband (just home from the City). "My angel!—crying!—Whatever's the matter?"
Wife. "They've—awarded me—prize medal"—(sobbing)—"f' my sponge cake!"
Husband (soothingly). "And I'm quite sure it deserv——"
Wife (hysterically). "Oh—but—'t said—'twas—for the best specimen—o' concrete!"
Our Choir-master (after lamentable failure on part of Pupil). "Confound it! I thought you said you could 'Read at sight'?"
Pupil. "So I can. But not first sight."
A Truly Rural Dean.—The Dean of Ferns.
