Chit-Chat of Humor, Wit, and Anecdote

A Gentleman making a morning call ...

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 00:10:32 -0400

upon a very stingy, but rich old widow, was asked by her in desultory conversation, pour passer le temps—

“Do you draw, Mr. Larkins?”

“Oh, in my way I do,” replied that gentleman.

“I should really like to see a specimen,” said the widow.

“Well,” replied the amateur, “just order a bottle of claret, and I’ll see what I can do at a cork, and you may as well tell John to bring up a biseuit, for it’s about lunch-time I fancy.”

The widow did as requested, and gave John orders for a perpetual “not at home,” to Mr. Larkins’s morning calls for the future.

Crooked Words

Thu, 02 Jul 2009 00:10:26 -0400

A poor man, who had a termagant wife, after a long dispute, in which she was resolved to have the last word, told her, “If she spoke one more crooked word, he’d beat her brains out.” “Why then, ram’s-horn, you rogue,” said she, “if I die for it.

NAVAL TACTICS

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 00:09:25 -0400

A Captain of the royal navy, one of the old school, being at a ball at Portsmouth, had been accepted by a beautiful partner, a lady of rank, who, in the most delicate manner possible, hinted to him the propriety of putting on a pair of gloves. “Oh!” was the elegant reply; “never mind me, ma’am: I shall wash my hands when I’ve done dancing.”

Scene in the Kitchen

Tue, 30 Jun 2009 00:09:28 -0400

A woman making bread. Enter little boy.

Little Boy.—"Mother, it strikes me you are very lazy just now."
Indignant Mother.—"How dare you say so? why, don't you see I'm making bread?"
Little Boy.—"True, but that's neither more nor less than loafing."

[The juvenile punster got no hot cakes for several days thereafter. His mother is slowly recovering.]

A Gentleman ...

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 00:08:04 -0400

was promenading a fashionable street with a bright little boy at his side, when the little fellow called out, “Oh, pa, there goes an editor!” “Hush, son,” said the father, “don’t make fun of the poor man — God only knows what you may come to yet.”

A Housemaid, ...

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 00:08:00 -0400

who was sent to call a gentleman to dinner, found him engaged in using a tooth-brush. “Well, is he coming?” said the lady of the house as the servant returned.—”Yes, ma’am, directly,” was the reply, “he’s just sharpening his teeth.”

Lord Shaftsbury says ...

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 00:07:56 -0400

that he would be virtuous for his own sake, though nobody were to know it; as he would be clean for bis own sake, though nobody were to see him.

Had Tully himself ...

Fri, 26 Jun 2009 00:06:57 -0400

pronounced one of his orations with a blanket around his shoulders, more people would have laughed at his dress than would have admired his eloquence.

An "old fogy" in New Hampshire ...

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 00:07:00 -0400

was recently overtaken by a “train of thought.” Through skillful medical treatment it is hoped he may survive the shock.

A Curious Epitaph

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 00:05:26 -0400

In Llangollen churchyard, North Wales, on the tomb of Morris and Catherine Jones, is the following curious epitaph:

Our life is but a winter’s day—
Some only breakfast and away.
Others to dinner stay and are well fed,
The oldest man sups and goes to bed.
Large is his debt who lingers out the day;
Who goes the soonest has the least to pay.

A Capital Joke

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 00:05:15 -0400

To expect the greatest Reformer in the moral world to be either a grateful or a moral man. What sign-post follows its own direetion?

A Loafer's Soliloquy

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 00:04:59 -0400

“I wish I knew where to get a cent, I do. Blest if I don’t emigrate to Kamschatka to dig gold. Money scarcer than wit; can’t live by neither—at least I can’t. Sold the last old shirt, pawned my boots for three cents, and went home rich as a lord.

“Told my landlady I had a hundred thousand dollars, and wanted the best room in the house. Insulted me by saying the attic was too good for me.

“I’m an injured individual . Society persecutes me. I don’t do society no harm as I knows on. I don’t rob widders’ houses. I don’t know widders. I don’t put the bottle to my neighbor’s lips. I ain’t got no neighbors; and the fact is I don’t own any bottles. Couldn’t fill them if I did.

“I’m an innocent man. Nobody can look me in the face and say I ever hurt ‘em—nobody, and yet I haven’t got a roof to lay my head into.—My old landlady hated me—why? I couldn’t pay, and I left. Cause why? ain’t it better to dwell in a corner of the house-top, than with a brawling woman in a wide house? But I ain’t got a house-top; and if I had, a corner wouldn’t be safe, would it?

“I’m a desp’rit man. I’d go to work if it wasn’t for my excessive benevolence. I’m afeared of taking the bread out of somebody’s mouth. Besides, wisdom’s the principal thing; don’t the good book say so? What’s money to wisdom? Ain’t I a studying character? If a man kicks me because I can’t pay for my licker ain’t I getting understanding? ain’t it a lesson to human nature? I’m told the world owes me a living. When is it going to pay, I wonder? I’m tired of waiting.”

The Oyster Newspaper

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 00:04:23 -0400

An organ for the Oyster-House critics has been found at last. We all know that our real genuine original Jacob Oysters are so large that it requires two middle-sized Englishmen to swallow one whole; since the Evening Post has grown it takes two moderate-sized men to open it at full length, but there has never been found any number of men yet to swallow its contents.

A Cincinnati paper ...

Sat, 20 Jun 2009 00:03:23 -0400

states that the theatre pit boys are in the habit of burlesquing the use of opera glasses in the dress circle, by using two mineral water bottles, tied together with a string, in which they scan the house in the most grave and interesting manner.

A Short Sermon

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 00:02:49 -0400

An old preacher once took for his text—

“Adam, where art thou?” and divided his subject into three parts.

1st.—All men are somewhere.

2d.—Some men are where they ought to be.

3d.—Unless they take care they will soon find themselves where they would rather not be.

All the Berries

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 00:01:49 -0400

A celebrated comedian arranged with his greengrocer—one Berry—to pay him quarterly; but the green-grocer sent in his account long before the quarter was due.

The comedian, in great wrath, called upon his green-grocer, and, laboring under the impression that his credit was doubted, said—

“I say, here’s a pretty mul, Berry; you’ve sent in your bill, Berry, before it is due, Berry; your father, the elder Berry, would not have been such a goose, Berry. But you need not look black, Berry—for I don’t care a straw, Berry—and shan’t pay you till Christmas, Berry.”

"Madam," ...

Wed, 17 Jun 2009 00:00:19 -0400

said a cross-tempered physician to a patient, ” if women were admitted to paradise, their tongues would make it a purgatory.”

“And some physicians, if allowed to practise there,” replied the lady, “would soon make it a desert.”

An eastern editor, ...

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 09:01:00 -0400

in an obituary on a young lady who had recently died, closed by saying—”She had an amiable temper, and was uncommonly fond of ice cream and other delicacies.”

A Fight for a Kiss.

Sun, 14 Jun 2009 00:47:56 -0400

” Ah, Sally, give me a kiss and be done with it.”

“I won’t, so there now.”

“I’ll take it, whether or no.”

“Do it if you dare.

So at it we went rough and tumble. An awful destruction of starch now commenced. The bow of my cravat was squat up in half a shake. At the next bout smash went shirt and collar, and at the same time some of the head fastenings gave way, and down came Sally’s hair like a flood in a mill-dam broke loose, carrying away half a dozen combs. One dig of Sally’s elbows, and my blooming ruffles wilted down to a dishcloth. But she had no time to boast. Soon her neck tackle began to shiver, parted at the throat; and whoorah came a string of white beads scampering and running races every way you could think of about the floor.

She fought fair, however, I must admit, and neither tried to bite nor scratch, and when she could fight no longer for want of breath, she yielded handsomely. Her arms fell down by her aide—her hair back over the chair, her eyes, closed, and there lay a little plump mouth, all in the air. Gracious! did you ever see a hawk pounce upon a robin? or a bee upon a clover top?

THE TELEGRAPH.

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 00:47:54 -0400

" Wife, I don't see for my part, how they send letters on them 'ere wires without tearin' 'em all to bits."

"La me, they don't send the paper; they just send the writing in a fluid state."