A man in New Hampshire had the misfortune recently to lose his wife. Over the grave he caused a stone to be placed, on which, in the depth of his grief, he had ordered to be inscribed—"Tears cannot restore her, therefore I weep."
WHAT IRISHMEN DO!—303.
George Penn Johnson, one of our most eloquent stump speakers, who loves a good thing too well to let it slip upon any occasion, addressing a meeting where it was a great point to obtain the Irish vote, after alluding to the native American party in no flattering terms, inquired, "Who dig our canals? Irishmen. Who build our railroads? Irishmen. (Great applause.) Who build all our gaols? Irishmen. (Still greater applause.) Who fill all our gaols? Irishmen!" This capping climax, if it did not bring down the house, did the Irish in a rush for the stand. Johnson did not wait to receive them.
SAD SCARCITY OF PAPER.—304.
Paper is so scarce in the South that the editor of the Morning Traitor writes his editorials with stolen chalk on the sole of his boot, and goes barefooted while his boy sets up the manuscript!
THE DATE WANTED.—305.
At a concert recently, at the conclusion of the song, "There's a Good Time Coming," a country farmer got up and exclaimed, "Say, mister, you couldn't fix the date, could you?"
THE HEIGHT OF MEANNESS.—306.
The meanest fellow in Onondaga county is a fellow who once had the plate of his grandmother's coffin made over into a tobacco-box.