“How do you get on together?” asked the astonished politician.
“Very well, indade, barring the twelfth of July, when my husband goes out with the Orange procession and comes home feelin’ extry pathriotic.”
“What then?”
“Well, he always takes the Pope down and jumps on him and then goes straight to bed. The next morning I get up early, before he is awake, and take down King William and pawn him and buy a new Pope with the money. Then I give the old man the ticket to get King William out.”
Too Much of a Good Thing
“I’ve got the very thing you want,” said the stableman to a ruralist in search of a horse; “a thorough-going road horse. Five years old, sound as a quail, $175 cash down, and he goes ten miles without stopping.”
The purchaser threw his hands skyward.
“Not for me,” he said, “not for me. I wouldn’t gif you five cents for him. I live eight miles out in de country, und I’d haf to walk back two miles.”
Had Missed It
“What are you crying for, my poor little boy?” said a man to a crying boy.