Peck's Sunshine: Being a Collection of Articles Written for Peck's Sun,; Milwaukee, Wis. - 1882Peck, George W. (George Wilbur)
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Peck's Sunshine: Being a Collection of Articles Written for Peck's Sun,; Milwaukee, Wis. - 1882
Peck, George W. (George Wilbur)
American wit and humor
We mention this to show that ladies are not the only portion of the
population that is liable to be accosted and insulted. The other night
a respectable merchant was going to the opera with a friend from the
country, when a couple of sirens met them and one said to the other,
“Look at his nibs,” and she locked arms with him and asked him if he was
not her own darling. He said his name was not “Nibs,” and he would have
to look at his memorandum book before he could tell whether he was her
darling or not, but from the smell of gin about her person he would
blush to extemporize.
We do not give his exact language, but in the heat of debate he shook
her and told her if she ever clawed on him again he would everlastingly
go and tell her parents. And while he was talking with her the other one
had seated herself beside his country friend on a salt barrel in front
of a grocery and was feeling in his vest pocket to see if he had any
cloves.
A female masher is much worse than a male masher as you can imagine.
Who ever heard of a male masher feeling in an unprotected female's vest
pocket for cloves? O, the men are simply unprotected, and at the mercy
of wicked, designing women, and the police ought to protect them.
THE USES OF THE PAPER BAG.
A First Ward man was told by his wife to bring home a quart of oysters
on New Year's night, to fry for supper. He drank a few prescriptions of
egg nog, and then took a paper bag full of selects and started for home.
He stopped at two or three saloons, and the bag began to melt, and when
he left the last saloon the bottom fell out of the bag and the oysters
were on the sidewalk.
We will leave the man there, gazing upon the wreck, and take the reader
to the residence where he is expected.
A red-faced woman is putting the finishing touches to the supper table,
and wondering why her husband does not come with the oysters. Presently
a noise as of a lead pencil in the key-hole salutes her ear, and she
goes to the door and opens it, and finds him taking the pencil out of
the key-hole. Not seeing any oysters, she asks him if he has forgotten
the oysters.
“Forgot noth(hic)ing,” says he.
He walks up to the table and asks for a plate, which is given him by the
unsuspicious wife.
“Damsaccident you ever(hic)see,” said the truly good man, as he brought
his hand out of his overcoat pocket, with four oysters, a little smoking
tobacco, and a piece of cigar-stub.
“Slipperysoystersev (hic)er was,” said he, as he run his hands down in
the other pocket, bringing up five oysters, a piece of envelope, and a
piece of wire that was used as a bail to the pail.
“Got all my pock(hic)ets full,” said he, as he took a large oyster out
of his vest pocket. Then he began to go down in his pants pocket, and
finding a hole in it, he said:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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