FUNNIOSITIES.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2097, 25 January 1908, Page 4 (Supplement)

FUNNIOSITIES.

HE KNEW. , An Irishman out of work applied to the “boss” of a large repair-shop in Detroit. When the Celt had stated his sundry and divers qualifications for a “job,” tho superintendent began quizzing him ft bit. Starting quite at random he asked: “Do you know anything about carpentry?” “Sliurol” . “How would 1 you do it? “Shuro, I’d poko me linger in Inn eye 1” THE WRONG PARTY.

There is a young lady organist in a Boston church who was anxious, not long -ago, to make a good impression- on a visiting clergyman booked to preach that Sunday. Tlio organ is pumped' by a somewhat obstinate old sexton entertaining original ideas in tlio matter of tlio length of an organ voluntary, which ideas frequently express themselves in his “shutting off the wind” when he thinks there has been enough. On the Sunday in question the young lady organist thought to forestall any such accident- by an appeal in writing to the -sexton, which she prepared and handed to him in the early part of the service. The hardheaded old fellow 'received the note and supposed it- was for the minister. Despite the organist’s frantic beckonings, lie went straight to the pulpit and delivered the note. The astonished clergyman read -this message: ".Kindly blow away tins morning till I give you the .'signal to stop.” DIPLOMATIC. b ‘.T! -. , . 'A ’ Lurie Bennie, aged- five, who had to be spanked occasionally for his misdeeds, had discovered that- his mother was willing to shorten the chastisement- as soon as- lie promised to bo good. On his first visit to his grandfather’s farm he was highly delighted with a brood of chicks that had just been hatched. After admiring for several minutes the 6 trail ge-100 Icing creatures, he was suddenly seized with the -desire to possess one. no ran and caught -up a chick in his hands and began -affectionately to stroke the squirming fluffy -little ball. Immediately the enraged hen, flying upon his back, pecked him and: fiercely flapped upon his back.cmfwypshrd h flapped her wings against him. Idle youngster, panic-stricken by the furious attack, and thinking that lie had got into a dreadful scrape because of his naughtiness, dropped tho chick, -and ran headlong toward tho house, screaming and shrieking, “I’ll be good! I’ll bo good!”

WANTED WASHING. Tho editor of ta- little Western paper was ill the habit of cheering up his subscribers daily with 'a column of short pertinent comments on their -town, their habits, and themselves. The department on account of its intimate personal flavor was the most popular tiling in tile paper. The editor, as he saw it growing in favor, gradually allowed himself a wider and- wider latitude in his remarks, until the town passed much of its -time conjecturing “what he’d das’b to say next.” On a hot day, when a simoom whistled gaily up tho streets of tho town, depositing everywhere its burden of sand, the editor brought forth -this gem of thought: “All tho windows -alongMainStreet need washing badly.” The next morning lie was waited on by a platoon of indignant citizens vho confronted him with the paragraph in question fresh from tlie hands of the compositor and informed him fiercely that lie had gone too far. After a hasty and horrified glanco lie admitted that ho had. It now read: “All the widows along Main Street need washing badly.”

AT THE WRONG HOUSE. The pale moonbeams shone -dimly upon the trees beneath whose shadows Jonkinson Fit Maurice Johones bared liis throbbing brow to tho night wind and twanged tremulously on his new guitar. Jenkinson F.itzMaurice Johones was in the act of giving liis first serenade. In weird, wild tones lie wialed out liis -soul as follows: “Come rest in this bo-o-soni, my own stricken dee-o-er.” He paused a moment to take a fresh hold. The deep stillness of the scene was unbroken -save by tlio sad yearning refrain of a distant cat-, serenading also. Just ns lie was on the point of lifting liis voice again, he heard a window open. A cross-eyed .;man with untidy hair stuck her bead out.

“Looil here, young feller!” she exclaimed. “do you know what you are a-doing?” "Why, ves,” replied Jenkinson. “This is a —*a- serenade,” “Who’s it for?” “For- —for Miss Milly.” “Miss Milly who?” “Shunk.” “The Sliunks moved away tron here a week ago. There isn’t a grl in this bouse excepting my baby. If you want to howl any more, go olf into some other neighborhood.” The woman took her untidy I'S'-r and cross eye in. shut down the unidow. ami the pale moonbeams piesently shone on the form of a discouraged young man sneaking homeward tli-rougli a back -alley.