University of Virginia Library

A MORMON FUNERAL.

Mrs. Stenhouse, in her lecture on Mormon life, told the funny story of
Sister Picknel's funeral. The following was Bishop Hardy's sermon:

“Wal, bruthrun and sisters, you are all here, I s'pose, and so we'll begin.
Wal, our sister is dead; let her rest. Our sister has suffered and made
others suffer, but now she is dead we'll let her rest. She opened the doors
to the devils and let them in five years ago, when her husband took his
young wife. I told her then they would kill her if she did not take care,
and now they've done it. She was a torment to her husband, and I guess if
he'd a know'd that she'd a bin such a torment he'd never married her.
Ain't that so, Brother Picknel?”

“That's so Bishop.”

“Wal, Brother Picknel, have you got anything to say?”

“Not as I know's on, but I s'pose I ought ter say sum'at, and if I do I
shall be sure to offend sum o' the sisters, so I s'pose we'd better close the
meetin'.”

This ended the funeral servicce.

A Stranger stepped into a North Adams, Mass., restaurant the other
day and ordered a plate of beans. On finishing his lunch he asked the
price. “Thirty cents,” replied the host, thinking that he had a customer
from whom he could make a few extra cents. “Isn't that a devil of a price
for beans?” asked the stranger. Failing to get a reduction he paid the bill
and left. The next day the saloon keeper received a telegram, the charge
onw hich was thirty cents. On being opened, it was found to contain neither
date nor signature, but only the words: “Isn't that a devil of a price for
beans?”

The Appeal tells of a Memphis lady who wrote to a New York matrimonial
agent for a husband. The Agent transferred the letter to a crusty
old bachelor, who, in replying to it accidently substituted for his own photograph
that of a pet orang-outang. The lady answered: “There is certainly
not much personal beauty about you, but you appear to have an
honest manly face. I accept.”

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63

The subject of impression at first sight was being talked over, on
Christmas Eve, in a family-circle of speculative christians, when the female
head of the family said:

“I always form an idea of a person on first sight, and generally find it
correct.”

“Mamma,” said her youthful son.

“Well, my dear what is it?”

“I want to know your opinion of me was when you first saw me.”

The lady did not come up to the necessity of the occasion, and the
question is traveling about unanswered.

A Pennsylvania school-boy last week accomplished the unique feat
of getting a billiard-ball in his mouth, which so entirely filled the cavity
that he couldn't get a bawl out until the doctor held it by a lucky hazard.

The man who wrote this has been scratched to death:—“When a
woman gets a letter she carries it in her hand, but a couple of pounds of
sausage she manages to squeeze into her pocket.”

Mrs. Jones says her husband is a three-handed man—right hand, left
hand, and a little behind hand.

The World says: Cheese factories are springing up all over Minnesota; being the only things that have a curd there lately.

The happy medium—Gentleman between two ladies.