“No,” the sick man replied, “But I should be ashamed to die from eating too much.”

There was a young person named Ned,
Who dined before going to bed,
  On lobster and ham
  And salad and jam,
And when he awoke he was dead.

GOLF

Two Scotchmen met and exchanged the small talk appropriate to the hour.  As they were parting to go supperward Sandy said to Jock: 

“Jock, mon, I’ll go ye a roond on the links in the morrn’.”

“The morrn’?” Jock repeated.

“Aye, mon, the morrn’,” said Sandy.  “I’ll go ye a roond on the links in the morrn’.”

“Aye, weel,” said Jock, “I’ll go ye.  But I had intended to get marriet in the morrn’.”

GOLFER (unsteadied by Christmas luncheon) to Opponent—­

“Sir, I wish you clearly to understand that I resent your unwarrant—­your interference with my game, sir!  Tilt the green once more, sir, and I chuck the match.”

Doctor William S. Rainsford is an inveterate golf player.  When he was rector of St. George’s Church, in New York City, he was badly beaten on the links by one of his vestrymen.  To console the clergyman the vestryman ventured to say:  “Never mind, Doctor, you’ll get satisfaction some day when I pass away.  Then you’ll read the burial service over me.”

“I don’t see any satisfaction in that,” answered the clergy-man, “for you’ll still be in the hole.”

SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER—­“Willie, do you know what beomes of boys who use bad language when they’re playing marbles?”

WILLIE—­“Yes, miss.  They grow up and play golf.”

The game of golf, as every humorist knows, is conducive to profanity.  It is also a terrible strain on veracity, every man being his own umpire.

Four men were playing golf on a course where the hazard on the ninth hole was a deep ravine.

They drove off.  Three went into the ravine and one managed to get his ball over.  The three who had dropped into the ravine walked up to have a look.  Two of them decided not to try to play their balls out and gave up the hole.  The third said he would go down and play out his ball.  He disappeared into the deep crevasse.  Presently his ball came bobbing out and after a time he climbed up.

“How many strokes?” asked one of his opponents.

“Three.”

“But I heard six.”

“Three of them were echoes!”

When Mark Twain came to Washington to try to get a decent copyright law passed, a representative took him out to Chevy Chase.

Mark Twain refused to play golf himself, but he consented to walk over the course and watch the representative’s strokes.  The representative was rather a duffer.  Teeing off, he sent clouds of earth flying in all directions.  Then, to hide his confusion he said to his guest:  “What do you think of our links here, Mr. Clemens?”

“Best I ever tasted,” said Mark Twain, as he wiped the dirt from his lips with his handkerchief.