Christmas Humour.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3406, 23 December 1911, Page 9 (Supplement)

Christmas Humour.

THE ONLY WAY—TO HIM. A sole fun-looking Irishman entered a business house and, walking up to one of the men employed on the lower floor, asked: i “Is there anny chanst fer a mom. t’ get a job av wur-rk here?” “I don’t know/' said tihe man. “You’ll have to see Mr. Hobart.” “An’ phwere is lie?” “Up on the second floor,” was the answer. “Shall Oi walk up an’ tjallk to him?” “No need of that. Just whistle in that tube and he’ll speak to you”— pointing to a speaking-tube. The ’irishman walked l over to. the tube and blew: a liighty blast in it. Hearing the whistle Mr Hobart came to the tube and inquired: “YVhatV wanted down there?”- “ ’Tis Oi, Paddy Flynn.. Ar’ ye th’ boss?” “I am,” said Mr. Hobart. e ‘Well, thin,’’ yelled Flynn, “sthick yea- heed cut ov th’ second-sthory winiv w'hoile Oi shtep out on th’ soidwalk. Oi want to talk t’ yel” NEVER A YVORD. Not long ago a clergyman was called upon to conduct the services at the funeral of a man witli whom he had

had no acquaintance. So, thinking to glean a useful hint or two touching the deceased’s character, when he _ was shown into the living-room the divine called a little boy of eight, evidently a member of the family, and put to him this question : “Can you tell me what were the last words of your father?” “He didn’t have any/’ responded the lad with the utmost naivete. “Ma was with him to the last.” HIS IDEA OF IT. “Father,” said the little boy at the dinner-table on Christmas Day, “what is a suffragette?” “YVell, boy,’’ replied the father, “a suffragettes is a being who has ceased to be a lady and is no gentleman.” YVILLING TO TRY. At a Christmas dinner for the newsboys out in Denver one of the sturdy | lads was urged to take a third piece of j pie. He thought a moment, then nodded and said: “I guess I can manage it if I stand up.” DELICATELY* EXPRESSED. Eliza Jane met her mistress just before Christmas with the ominous announcement: “Missus, I’se gotter leave yer.” “YVliy, ’Liza, what’s the matter? Aren’t you satisfied with your place?” “Yessum, I’se satisfied a’ right. ’Tain’t dat, mum.” “Well, is it that you want more wages?” “Naw’m, ’tain’t dat, neither.” “Are you sick?” “Naw’m, I ain’t sick, but I’ll tell you a fac’. You ricollec’ you let me git off to a funeral ’bout a mont’ back? YVell’m, Chris’mis morn I’se gwine to marry de corpse’s husban’.” PRETTY NEAR HIS LIMIT. Wouldn’t you like another piece of cake, dear ?” asked the good lady of the urchin at the end of the Christmas dinner. “No’.h, I guess not,” said the boy dubiously. “I could chew it, but I couldn’t swallow it.” PUSHING IT TOO FAR. “Papa,” said Freddie, “what is a fortification?” “YVhv, a big fort,” replied his father. “YVell, papa, is a ratification a big } y “I am busy now, dear,” replied father as he escapod.