“The poisoning—the chopping—the—the—” she stammered.
“Of no consequence, I assure you. We are not going to be hard on a lady who did not belong to the Women’s Press Association. Take a harp.”
“But I applied for membership—I was blackballed.”
“Take two harps.”
The Catted Anarchist
An Anarchist Orator who had been struck in the face with a Dead Cat by some Respector of Law to him unknown, had the Dead Cat arrested and taken before a Magistrate.
“Why do you appeal to the law?” said the Magistrate—“You who go in for the abolition of law.”
“That,” replied the Anarchist, who was not without a certain hardness of head, “that is none of your business; I am not bound to be consistent. You sit here to do justice between me and this Dead Cat.”
“Very well,” said the Magistrate, putting on the black cap and a solemn look; “as the accused makes no defence, and is undoubtedly guilty, I sentence her to be eaten by the public executioner; and as that position happens to be vacant, I appoint you to it, without bonds.”
One of the most delighted spectators at the execution was the anonymous Respector of Law who had flung the condemned.