Zoological Specialist (gazing at solitary sea-lion in the Dublin Zoo). Where's his mate?
Irish Keeper. He has no mate, sorr. We just fade him on fish.
A Point to the Good.—Scene—Immediately after a Point-to-Point Race—Friend (to Rider of Winner). "By Jove, old chap, that was a close race! Thought you were beaten just on the post."
Rider (Irish). "Faith, me boy, that dimonstrates the advantage of a big horse; for, if ye saw the tail of him a thrifle behind, shure the other end of him was a wee bit in front?"
Confession in Confusion.—Priest. "Now, tell me, Doolan, truthfully, how often do you go to chapel?"
Pat. "Will, now, shure, oi'll till yer riv'rince the trut'. Faix, I go as often as I can avoid!"
School Inspector (anxious to explain the nature of a falsehood). Now, supposing I brought you a canary, and told you it was blue, what would that be?