Harper's Weekly 09/28/1867

I believe my fate will be like Abel's,” said a wife
one day. “Why so?” inquired her husband. “Be-
cause Abel was killed by a club, and your club will
kill me if you continue to go to it every night.”Mrs. H. More was reproved by a gentleman for tak-
ing snuff. He observed he had never heard one good
reason urged in favor of the practice. She replied she
could give him half a dozen, and immediately repeat-
ed the following impromptu:
You say six reasons are enough
To justify my taking snuff.
First, you'll allow in every nation
The prejudice of education;
The fashion, too, you must confess,
Weighs with the ladies more or less;
When to dull company confined,
It serves to amuse the vacant mind;
It next affords us some protection
Against the dangers of infection;
And, though it may not suit your case,
It shows a hand, an arim, a grace.
And if you'll have another still,
What think you of a woman's will?
Pacific Males—Hen-pecked husbands.A woman named Virtue Innocent has been fined in
London for unjust weights.A Dangerous Character.—A man who “takes life”
cheerfully.An Indiana paper says that ladies out here who
wear number seven, eight, and nine boots—and such
are the majority—oppose the new short-dress style.A Wall Street Conundrum.—Why is a forged note
like a whisper?—Because it is uttered, but not allowed
(aloud).An American traveler in Paris having occasion for
a hair-cutter sent for one.


Ragged Damsel.
Lor, Sairer, I'm blessed if that swell gal
hasn't dressed herself wrong side forrard!

At the appointed time an
elegantly-attired person
arrived, and the gentle-
man sat down before his
dressing-case to prepare
for the operation. The
man walked round his
“client” once or twice,
and finally taking his
stand at some distance,
attentively scrutinized
the gentleman's face with
the air of a connoisseur
looking at a picture.
“Well,” said the Ameri-
can, impatiently, “when
are you going to begin?”
“Pardon me, Sir,” was
the polite reply; “I am
not the operative, but the
physiognomist. Adolphe!”
he cried out, and a sleeved
and aproned barber en-
tered from the hall; “a
Virgil!” With this la-
conic direction as to the
model after which the
gentleman's hair was to
be arranged the artist re-
tired.A French marquis was
riding out one day when
he passed an old priest
riding along contentedly
on a donkey.“Ha, ha!” exclaimed
the marquis, “how goes
the ass, good father?”“On horseback, my
son,” replied the priest.Jonathan presented
himself and his intended
to the minister for the
purpose of being mar-
ried. Being questioned
if they had been publish-
ed: “Oh, I guess so, for
I told it to Uncle Ben,
and he told his wife more
'an a week ago.”People who have been
laying up for a rainy day
ought this season to be
found among the most
liberal of customers.

Come, all ye single gentlemen,
Listen while I relate
To you the blessed pleasures
Of the happy single state.
First, you can go out evenings,
And you need not hurry home.
For you have no frowning Madam
To say, “How late you come!”

And if you meet with friends
Whose health you chance to drink,
You will never have to hear,
“You've been drinking, Sir, I think.”
And then, when sick or tired,
You retire with your woes,
You have no crying children
To break your calm repose.

And if from your white bosom
You should sometimes chance to miss
A shining little button,
Console yourself with this—
That 'tis not a wife unfaithful
Who has left your bed and board,
To seek a “better climate”
With a handsomer liege lord.

Then, old bachelors, remember
All the pleasures of your life;
Live on in single-blessedness,
And never seek a wife.
But when life's journey's ended,
Be sure you seek repose
In a land that's free from women,
And all earth's other woes.
A matron, under cross-examination as a witness,
turned up her nose at the insinuation that her daugh-
ter was inclined to wed a widower. “Very likely, in-
deed,” said she, with a toss of her head, “that my
daughter should marry a second-hand man!”Abel P—had a spite against Squire B—. Some
one remarked in his hearing one day that the Squire
was a mean man. “Mean!” said Abel, “I guess he
is. A yard of black tape would make him a suit of
mourning, and then he'd have enough left for a weed
on his hat.”“Pa, are cannibals people that live on other folks?”
“Yes, my dear.”“Then, pa, Uncle George must be
a cannibal, for ma says he's always living on some-
body.”“My dear” said Mrs. Bumble to her daughter, “you
must have something warm around you in the car-
riage.” Miss B. mentioned the request of her mother
to her beau, and he immediately complied with it.Note by our Naturalist.—It is a fallacy to suppose
that a fox is jubilant when carrying home a fat goose
to his larder; on the contrary, he never feels more
“down in the mouth.”A little four-year-old having heard her father call
her younger brother “a little shaver,” and desiring
after ward to use the expression, could come no near-
er to it than “Oh, you little barber shop!”Current Literature.—“Books in the running

I'd swear for her,
I'd tear for her,
The Lord knows what I'd bear for her;
I'd lie for her,
I'd sigh for her,
I'd drink Big Muddy dry for her;
I'd “cuss” for her,
Do “wuss” for her,
I'd kick up a thunderin' fuss for her;
I'd weep for her,
I'd leap for her,
I'd go without my sleep for her;
I'd fight for her,
I'd bite for her,
I'd walk the streets all night for her;
I'd plead for her,
I'd bleed for her,
I'd go without my “feed” for her;
I'd shoot for her,
I'd boot for her
A rival who'd come to “suit” for her:
I'd kneel for her,
I'd steal for her,
Such is the love I feel for her;
I'd slide for her,
I'd glide for her,
I'd swim 'gainst wind and tide for her;
I'd try for her,
I'd cry for her,
But—hang me if I'd die for her.
N. B.—Or any other woman.


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