 | Eli Perkins (at large) |  |
LITTLE PERKINSISMS.
LEVITY IS THE SOUL OF WIT.
One day Mr. Galbraith asked old Mr. Hathaway, of
Canandaigua, if his habits were regular and uniform.
“Yes,” said Mr. Hathaway, “they are very regular
and very uniform, and a d—d many of 'em, too!”
“We consume annually whiskey and tobacco enough
to pay for all the bread eaten in the United States.”—
George Bayard in Brooklyn Argus.
Well, who says you don't?
Last Saturday night was a drencher—a regular
north-easter of a storm—and the theaters were empty.
Dan Bryant had a large audience, but—they staid at
home. Dan said they were like horses—checked by
the rein.
Lloyd Aspinwall is like bell-metal—he's a Lloyd
with tin.
Now the negroes in Kentucky village have got a
school-house ghost. Should it be called the village
Blacks'-myth?
“Muzzlin', Eli,” said my Uncle Consider, “makes a
dog safe, while muslin makes a young lady very dangerous;
still, in hot weather, they both want muzzlin'!”
The stylish young lady, with hair à la Pompadour,
won't allow anybody to up braid her but her hairdresser.
Sic Transit.—The sickest transit I know of is the
Greenwich Elevated Railroad.
Capital Offense.—They are going to make it a
capital offense for one man to elope with another
man's wife in California. It always was a capital
offense here, if the man's wife was pretty!
Self-Possession.—Donn Piatt owns a jackass.
“Well,” said Speaker Blaine, “Col. Sanford of
Brooklyn and I were traveling down South. The feed
had been had for a day or two, when one day at a
railroad station we had a big plate of hash. Col.
Sanford stuck his knife into it and looked at it kinder
curiously, when the landlord remarked:
“`You needn't be afraid of that thar dish, stranger,
's longs bull pups is worth more'n hogs.”'
The Saratoga jail is so insecure, so totally unsafe,
that the inmates are afraid to keep any jewelry about
them for fear thieves at large will break through and
his valuables to John Morrissey for safe-keeping. So
many diamonds and laces have been stolen out of the
jail that President Mitchell says they have determined
to paint and whitewash it, or do something to make it
impregnable.
General Bachelor's Geyser Spring in Saratoga is
still spouting. The water bursts from the bowels of
the earth through solid rock eighty feet from the surface,
and then flies about twenty feet in the air. A
Frenchman—Baron St. Albe, from the Clarendon—
went over to see the spring spout yesterday. As the
volume of water burst into the air, he dropped his umbrella
on the arm of a young lady, and raising both
hands in the air, is said to have exclaimed:
“Eh! dis is ze grand spectakle! Suparbe! Magnifique!
By gar, he bust up first-rate!”
A bore is a man who spends so much time talking
about himself that you can't talk about yourself.
A young married lady says Poe's raven was drunk
all the time it was croaking “never more, never more,”
on that bust of Pallas.
“How's that?” I asked.
“Why, Eli, it was a raven `on a bust.”'
The same young lady insists that her husband is a
living, personified poem—not epigram or riddle, but a
cross-stick.
Mr. Jack Astor left Saratoga yesterday just because
he wrote his name with a diamond on one of the French
glass windows at the United States Hotel and Mr.
Marvin came along and wrote under it:
Written on the glass,
I know he owns a diamond,
And his father owns an ass.”
They say “love is blind,” but I know a lover in
Jersey City who can see a good deal more beauty in
his sweetheart than I can.
Chicago is the center of American civilization for
liquor-saloons and bad sidewalks.
| Eli Perkins (at large) | |