_Jest Jokes and Jingles_ The Wrong Husband A lady boarded a crowded train and rushing up behind a bald-headed man, kissed him on the top of his head. He turned to look at her, and in an embarrassed and flustrated tone, she said: “I--I beg your pardon. I thought you were my husband. Your head behind looks just like his behind.” * * * * * The nice things of life are not always naughty, but the naughty things are invariably nice. * * * * * In the Garden of Eden Adam slept; Into his arms a chicken crept. A voice said to Adam: “This is Eve”-- And Adam replied: “I’ve got you, Steve.” * * * * * When we hear a woman say that all men are alike we wonder how she found it out. * * * * * Little drops of water, That we used to think Were simply made for chasers, Are now the whole damn drink. * * * * * Did You Ever? A furrier was selling a coat to a woman customer. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I guarantee this to be genuine skunk fur that will wear for years.” “But suppose I get it wet in the rain?” asked the woman. “What effect will the water have on it? What will happen to it then? Won’t it spoil?” “Madam,” answered the furrier, “I have only one answer: Did you ever hear of a skunk carrying an umbrella?” * * * * * “So you deceived your husband,” said the judge gravely. “On the contrary, my lord, he deceived me. He said he was going out of town and he didn’t go.” * * * * * He was a rather feminine young man, but he got into an argument with his male companion. Said the other fellow: “Do you know, a company in Cincinnati named a soap after you?” “No, is that right?” asked the feminine youth, in a high-pitched voice, “What is it called?” “Fairy-soap,” was the reply. * * * * * A young lady on whose lap a bug had just lit, exclaimed: “Oh, look at that funny little bug; what kind of a bug is it?” Her Escort: “That’s a lady bug.” Young Lady: “My but you have good eyesight!” * * * * * Oh, Tempore, Oh H---- Wouldn’t Omar Khayam be sore if he was here. He’d change his immortal “Rubiyait” to this: Beneath a bough, a can of near beer, And thou-- * * * * * Here’s another ditty from the Jazz Review: Coffee in the Pantry, Sugar in the Bowl, Mother’s Down Town Dancing Jellyroll. * * * * * She came down to breakfast very late and her mother scanned her severely. “Did that man kiss you last night?” she asked. “Now, mother,” said the sweet young thing, blushing, “do you suppose he came all the way from the Great Lakes to hear me sing?” * * * * *