ough stick in her left hand and a frown on her brow.

"Good morning," said the stranger politely. "I'm looking for Mr.
O'Toole."

"So'm I," said Mrs. O'Toole, shifting her club over to her other hand.

TIM--"Sarer Smith (you know 'er--Bill's missus), she throwed herself
horf the end uv the wharf larst night."

TOM--"Poor Sarer!"

TIM--"An' a cop fished 'er out again."

TOM--"Poor Bill!"

The cooing stops with the honeymoon, but the billing goes on forever.

"Well, old man, how did you get along after I left you at midnight. Get
home all right?"

"No; a confounded nosey policeman haled me to the station, where I spent
the rest of the night."

"Lucky dog! I reached home."

STRANGER--"What's the fight about?"

NATIVE--"The feller on top is Hank Hill wot married the widder Strong,
an' th' other's Joel Jenks, wot interdooced him to her."--_Life_.

A colored man had been arrested on a charge of beating and cruelly
misusing his wife. After hearing the charge against the prisoner, the
justice turned to the first witness.

"Madam," he said, "if this man were your husband and had given you a
beating, would you call in the police?"

The woman addressed, a veritable Amazon in size and aggressiveness,
turned a smiling countenance towards the justice and answered: "No,
jedge. If he was mah husban', and he treated me lak he did 'is wife, Ah
wouldn't call no p'liceman. No, sah, Ah'd call de undertaker."

We admire the strict impartiality of the judge who recently fined his
wife twenty-five dollars for contempt of court, but we would hate to
have been in the judge's shoes when he got home that night.

"How many children have you?" asked the census-taker.

The man addressed removed the pipe from his mouth, scratched his head,
thought it over a moment, and then replied:

"Five--four living and one married."

SHE--"How did they ever come to marry?"

HE--"Oh, it's the same old story. Started out to be good friends, you
know, and later on changed their minds."--_Puck_.

Nat Goodwin and a friend were walking along Fifth Avenue one afternoon
when they stopped to look into a florist's window, in which there was an
artistic arrangement of exquisite roses.

"What wonderful American Beauties those are, Nat!" said the friend
delightedly.

"They are, indeed," replied Nat.

"You see, I am very fond of that flower," continued the friend. "In
fact, I might say it is my favorite. You know, Nat, I married