“All right.  I’ll give you fifteen days in jail; in other words, you are interned for the duration of the war.”

VISITOR (comforting Tommy, who has upset a bottle of ink on the new carpet)—­“Never mind, my boy; no use to cry over spilled milk.”

TOMMY (indignantly)—­“Any dunce would know that.  If it’s milk that’s spilled all you have to do is to call the cat an’ she’ll lick it up cleaner’n anything.  But this ain’t milk, an’ mother’ll do the lickin’, is what ails me.”

“Quite a good epigram, that,” said the tramp, who had been convicted for vagrancy.

“What did he say?” asked the tramp’s pal.

“Seven days.”

“How d’you make that out an epigram?”

“Why,” said the tramp, “I once asked a parson what an epigram was, and he said ’It’s a short sentence that sounds light, but gives you plenty to think about.’”

PARSON WHITE—­“Brudder Lamkins, how did yer son come outen de trial?”

BRO.  LAMKINS—­“De Jedge done give ’im two mumfs in de jayul.”

PARSON WHITE—­“’Pears ter me like as if you outer be pow’ful thankful. 
He got off mighty light, he did.”

BRO.  LAMKINS—­“’Twan’t ’s light’s you seem to think.  Dey’s agwinter hang ’im when de two mumfs is up.”

“Rastus,” said the judge sternly, “you’re plain no-account and shiftless, and for this fight I’m going to send you away for a year at hard labor.”

“Please, Jedge,” interrupted Mrs. Rastus from the rear of the court room, “will yo’ Honah jes’ kinder split dat sentence?  Don’t send him away from home, but let dat hard labor stand.”

A German spy caught redhanded was on his way to be shot.

“I think you English are brutes,” he growled, “to march me through this rain and slush.”

“Well,” said the “Tommy” who was escorting him, “what about me?  I have to go back in it.”

See also Marriage.

PUNS

“Have you a little fairy in your home?”

“No, but I have a little miss in my engine.”

SMALL SCOUT—­“Dad, what are the silent watches of the night?”

INDULGENT FATHER—­“They are the ones which their owners forgot to wind, my son.”

“Here, boy,” said the man to the boy who was helping him drive a bunch of cattle, “hold this bull a minute, will you?”

“No,” answered the boy, “I don’t mind bein’ a director in this company, but I’m darned if I want to be a stockholder.”

MA—­“You’ve been drinking.  I smell it in your breath.”  PA—­“Not a drop.  I’ve been eating frog’s legs.  What you smell is the hops.”

PROF.—­“What happened to Babylon?”

FRESH.—­“It fell.”

PROF.—­“What happened to Tyre?”

FRESH.—­“It was punctured.”

That was a good, though rather a severe pun, which was made by a student in one of our theological seminaries (and he was not one of the brightest of the class, either), when he asked, “Why is Professor——­ the greatest revivalist of the age?” and on all “giving it up,” said, “Because at the close of every sermon there is a ’Great Awakening.’”