In order, then, to kill his cares,
And all his sorrows check,
The blear-eyed, big-mouthed bull-dog wears
A brass band round his neck.
—New York Journal.
WIFE (indignantly): I’ve heard through a certain married lady in town, John, that you bet me against a horse the other night that your candidate would win?
HUSBAND: Well, what of it? My candidate is bound to win; the other man hasn’t the ghost of a show, and, as you’ve always wanted a riding horse, I thought I would just get you one, and get it cheap.—The Epoch.
PARSON’S WIFE: Why, Johnny, you’re not going fishing on Sunday, are you?
JOHNNY: Oh, no—no. I—I only thought I’d take the pole away from the house so that my brothers needn’t be tempted.—Life.
CAPTAIN: Well, what do you make it out to be?