As the camper was cleaning his gun, along came a woodsman.

“Been hunting today?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Shot anything?”

“I don’t know yet.  I’m waiting for the rest of the party to get into camp so we can call the roll.”

FIRST SIMPLE NIMROD—­“Hey, don’t shoot.  Your gun isn’t loaded.”

HIS PARTNER—­“Can’t help that; the bird won’t wait.”

The very small boy with the very large gun was standing in a country road.

“What are you hunting, bub?” asked a passer-by.

“I dunno,” he replied, frankly.  “I ain’t seen it yet.”

HURRY

See Haste.

HUSBANDS

To say of a man that he will make a good husband is much the same sort of a compliment as to say of a horse that he is perfectly safe for a woman to drive.—­Puck.

If you marry a widow it is safe to take one whose first trial served a term in jail, then you won’t have the perfect example always held up before you.

“Mother,” asked Tommy, “do fairy tales always begin with ’Once upon a time’?”

“No, dear, not always; they sometimes begin with ’My love, I have been detained at the office tonight’”

“William,” snapped the dear lady, viciously, “didn’t I hear the clock strike two as you came in?” “You did, my dear.  It started to strike ten, but I stopped it to keep it from waking you up.”

“I hear you are going to marry Archie Blueblood?” said one society woman to another.  “Is it true?”

“Marry him?” exclaimed the other.  “Not likely.  What on earth could I do with him?  He’s rejected from the Army, he can’t ride, he can’t play tennis, golf, nor, for that matter, can he even drive a motor-car!”

“Oh!” said the friend, “but he can swim beautifully, you know.”

“Swim, indeed!  Now, I ask you, would you like a husband you had to keep in an aquarium?”

To observe Washington’s birthday, in a fitting manner, a teacher in a Yonkers school told in detail the life of the first President of the United States.  She emphasized his honesty, sincerity, bravery and self-reliance.  At the close of her discourse, she put this question to the class: 

“What high office in a nation could such a wonderful man fill?”

A flaxen-haired boy of ten, sitting in a rear seat, raised his hand and blushingly replied:  “He’d make a nice husband.”

“How’s your husband getting along, Mrs. Fogarty?”

“Well, sometimes he’s better an’ sometimes he’s worse, but from the way he growls an’ takes on whin he’s better, Oi think he’s better whin he’s worse.”

SHE—­“I wonder why men lie so?”

HE—­“Because their wives are so inquisitive.”

HUBBY—­“I don’t believe in parading my virtues.”

WIFE—­“You couldn’t, anyway.  It takes quite a number to make a parade.”