HORSES

Two men thrown together at a horse-show were discussing their adventures with the equine tribe.

“A horse ran away with me once, and I wasn’t out for two months,” remarked the man with the Trilby hat.

“That’s nothing!” replied the man with the bowler.  “I ran away with a horse once, and I wasn’t out for two years!”

A motor car was held up in a busy street by a wagon drawn by two horses.  The driver seemed in no hurry to get out of the way, and at length one of the occupants of the motor car exclaimed sarcastically: 

“Here, I say, my man!  What are those things you are driving?  What are they for, I should like to know?”

“These ’ere, guv’nor?” answered the carter, flicking the horses with his whip.  “Oh, these is wot is commonly called ‘orses, an’ they’re sometimes used fer to take motorists to the ’orspital!”

“Do you think the motor will entirely supersede the horse?”

“I hope not,” replied Farmer Corntossel.  “There must be some market fur hay.  I depend on what I make on hay to buy gasoline.”

HOSPITALITY

Uncle Tobey was an hospitable soul.  He wanted no guest in his house to be stinted.  “Have some, have some,” he invited cordially at the supper-table, sending around the platter for the third time; “we’re going to give it to the pigs anyway.”—­Judge.

  Blest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire
  To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire. 
  Blest that abode, where want and pain repair,
  And every stranger finds a ready chair;
  Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crown’d,
  Where all the ruddy family around
  Laugh at the jest or pranks, that never fail,
  Or sigh with pity of some mournful tale,
  Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
  And learn the luxury of doing good.

  —­Goldsmith.

It is not the quantity of the meat but the cheerfulness of the guests which makes the feast.—­Clarendon.

BAILIE MCTAVISH—­“An’ so ye leave Glesca’ on Monday.  What are ye daein the morrow nicht?”

MR. JARVIE—­“Tomorrow, Thursday, I’ve no engagement.”

BAILIE—­“An’ the nixt nicht.”

MR. J.—­“I’m free then, too.”

BAILIE—­“An’ what will ye be daein on Saturday?”

MR. J.—­“On Saturday I dine with the Buchans.”

BAILIE—­“What a peety!  Aa wanted ye to take dinner wi’us on Saturday.”

A Quaker had gotten himself into trouble with the authorities and the sheriff called to escort him to the lock-up.

“Is your husband in?” he inquired of the good wife who came to the door.

“My husband will see thee,” she replied.  “Come in.”

The sheriff entered, was bidden to make himself at home, and was hospitably entertained for half an hour, but no husband appeared.  At last the sheriff grew impatient.