“Sure, all but der left-hand hip pocket.”

“Vell, vy don’t you look in dot?”

“Because if it ain’t dere I’ll drop dead!”

The following exchange of courtesy was recently chronicled in a German paper’s advertisements: 

“The gentleman who found a brown purse, containing a sum of money, in the Blumenstrasse, is requested to forward it to the address of the loser, as he is recognized.”

A couple of days later appeared the response, which, altho courteous, had an elusive air, to say the least: 

“The recognized gentleman who picked up a brown purse in the Blumenstrasse requests the loser to call at his house at a convenient day.”

A small boy came hurriedly down the street, and halted breathlessly in front of a stranger going in the same direction.

“Have you lost half a crown?” he asked with his hand in his pocket.

“Y-es, yes, I believe I have!” said the stranger feeling in his pockets.  “Have you found one?”

“Oh, no,” said the small boy.  “I just want to see how many have been lost today.  Yours makes fifty-four!”

The young lady from New York was inclined to belittle things.

“Why,” she remarked, “I could find my way up this mountain path alone.”

“Wal,” responded the native, “a young couple went up this path last year and never came back.”

“Oh, my!  Were they lost?”

“Nope,” was the reply, “they went down the other side!”

The other day when the beach was crowded, a small boy, looking rather bewildered, approached a police officer and said, “Please, sir, have you seen anything of a lady around here?”

“Why, yes,” answered the officer, “I’ve seen several.”

“Well, have you seen any without a little boy?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” said the little chap, as a relieved look crossed his face, “I’m the little boy.  Where’s the lady?”

One does not mean to be personal, but, if the young man who sat in the chair where a lady had left a dish of maple sugar to cool at the festival the other evening, will return the saucer, he will save himself further trouble.

LOVE

Outwitted

He drew a circle that shut me out
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. 
But Love and I had the wit to win,
We drew a circle that took him in.

—­Edwin Markham.

DAUGHTER—­“Oh, father, how grand it is to be alive!  The world is too good for anything.  Why isn’t every one happy?”

FATHER—­“Who is he this time?”

EDITH—­“How does Fred make love?”

MARIE—­“Well, I should define it as unskilled labor.”

MAG.—­“Wot is ‘platonic affection,’ Liz?  Is it love?”

LIZ.—­“Well, no;—­it ain’t true love!  Dere ain’t no quarreling in it, ner no fighting, ner worrying, ner hocking, ner drinking, ner getting arrested fer non-support, ner nuthin’ wot’s really passionate!”