SOLD BY THE YARD

An Irishman passed a shop where a notice was displayed saying that everything was sold by the yard. Thinking to play a joke on the shopman, he entered and asked for a yard of milk.

The shopman, not in the least taken Jaback, dipped his finger in a bowl of milk and drew a line a yard long on the

counter.

Pat, not wishing to be caught in his own trap, asked the price.

it."

Sixpence," said the shopman. "All right, sor. Roll it up; I'll take

DEALING VS. SHUFFLING

Appropriate to the home rule question, a newly published volume of biography gives a story of Mr. Gladstone and the then Bishop of Peterborough, the famous Dr. Magee. The two were dining together, and Dr. Magee, in the course of conversation, made it plain that he thought the government was not acting straightforwardly. "I am afraid, Dr. Magee," Mr. Gladstone remarked, "that, Irishman as you are, you do not approve of our method of dealing with Ireland." "It's not your dealing that I don't like," the bishop retorted, "so much as your shuffling!

A NEW DUN

A rare specimen of business humor was received the other day by a Boston firm. It ran :-" Our cashier fell unconscious at his desk this morning. Up to this time, 4 P. M., we have been unable to get a word out of him, except your May we say to him, with a view to his immediate recovery, that we have your check, as we think that is what is on his mind."

name.

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HE KNEW WHERE IT WAS

A gentleman who was continually losing his collar-button while dressing complained to his wife about it. With an ingenuity born of the use of hairpins she told him to hold his collar-button in his mouth and he wouldn't lose it. This worked for several days, when one morning she was startled by an unusual com

motion.

"What's the matter?" asked the wife anxiously.

"I've swallowed the collar-button," said the man.

"Well," responded his better half, "for once in your life you know where it is."

NOT NEEDED

While a traveling man was waiting for an opportunity to show his samples to a merchant in a little backwoods town in Missouri, a customer came in and bought a couple of nightshirts. Afterward a long, lank lumberman, with his trousers stuffed in his boots, said to the merchant: "What was them 'ere that feller bot?" "Nightshirts. Can I sell you one or

two?"

"Naup, I reckon not," said the Missourian. "I don't set around much o' nights."