That’s the proper place for her to dress. * * * * * _Widson_--I wonder what induced Jumkins to marry his typewriter? _Booler_--Why, didn’t you know that he’d been trying for years to get a typewriter of his own? * * * * * “Is your watch all right, now?” “No, but it’s gaining.” * * * * * George Little has a wife and nine children and only earns eight dollars a week but he gets along splendidly. How does he manage to do it on such a small salary? Why, every little helps. * * * * * The other day an ear of corn was run over by an automobile and three kernels were killed. * * * * * _She_--We haven’t seen much of you this week. _He_--I saw a good deal--at least I saw you--er--last Tuesday. _She_--Did you? Where was I? Cycling? _He_--Not at the moment. You were just falling over the handles. * * * * * I’ve got a brother that’s awful funny. People come from miles around to see him cut up, he’s a butcher, and he always dresses to kill. * * * * * “An Indiana man is making a study of perpetual motion.” “What does he model it on?” “His wife’s tongue.” * * * * * Are you a carpenter? Yes. How would you make a Venetian blind? Punch him in the eye. * * * * * There was a piece of cold pudding on the lunch table and mamma divided it between Willie and Elsie. Willie looked at his mother’s empty plate. “Mamma,” he said, earnestly, “I can’t enjoy my pudding when you haven’t any. Take Elsie’s.” * * * * * “I wonder what makes so many letters go to the dead-letter office?” “Why, I suppose it’s because the addresses are so perfectly killing.” * * * * * Do you know that my little dog is dead? I suppose he either swallowed a tape-line and died by inches, or else went up the alley and died by the yard. Oh, no, he crawled away up under the bed and died by the foot. * * * * * _Husband_--Why are you so angry at the doctor? _Wife_--When I told him I had a terrible tired feeling, he told me to show him my tongue. * * * * * In a prison scene, a man is supposed to be shot while filing the bars of his cell in an effort to escape. The pistol failed to explode and the prisoner finally dropped as though dead. The guard, whose pistol refused to work, gazed at him in astonishment for a second, then with great presence of mind, he raised both hands and exclaimed in a tone of horror: “My God! He’s swallowed the file!” * * * * * Show me a man who likes to be interrupted in the middle of a sentence. All right. Come along with me to the nearest prison. * * * * *