“Doctor,” said our young man to a jocular dentist, “I hear you’ve been saying that I’ve got a mouth that always reminds you of the mouth of the Mississippi. Is that so?” “Of course not, my dear boy,” said Burton. “I never said anything so cruel. All I said was that when I was reaching for one of your rear snags I always felt safer when I had a life-preserver around me.”
Queen Victoria took the second prize at the York show with a yearling heifer from her Balmoral farm, and she kicked like a steer because she didn’t get the first. The heifer did, not Victoria. Er himperial majesty kicked too, because the first prize is one shilling thruppence, while the second is only one shilling tuppence happeny, but her protest of course was made in a most majestic and lady-like manner.—Hawkeye.
Some of the richest men in Austin started in life in a very modest way, and are still plain, unpretentious people, but their sons put on a great deal of style. One of the latter, who was better posted about other people’s affairs than his own family’s remarked sneeringly to an acquaintance: “Your father was nothing but a simple stonemason.” “I know where you got that information,” quietly remarked the other. “From whom did I get it?” “From your father.” “How do you know that?” “Because your father used to be my father’s hod-carrier.”
It is a base slander upon the goat to say he eats tomato can labels and circus poster and old hoop skirts and things because he likes them. He is driven to this coarse, and not very nutritious fare, by hard times and destitution. When he can stand on his hind legs and eat his luxurious way along a clothes-line, all the circus posters in the world can’t lure him away from the night shirt and the par boiled sheet. Be just to the goat. And how he does love a coil of manilla rope or a rubber door mat. The fact is, the goat is gifted with a fine rather epicurean taste, and if we could afford to feed him the things he is fond of he would never touch a tomato can.—Hawkeye.
SPECIAL OFFER.