Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1867-10-08
Roses and CdbO0geS.

Roses and Cdbb0ges.
The fellow who wrote "Ask me no more, :"
was probably full ;"
The chap who sung "Ah don't mingle,
takes his whisky straight.
The man who wrote "I'm saddest when L
sing" was fool to sing much.
A printer in Texas, whose first son happened
to be a very short little fellow, named him Bre-
vier Fuface Jones.
The one who asked lady in song, cart thou
happy, lovely lady?' was answered mo, I've
got my peplum spotted and Fido has ruined my
chignon."
The fellow who sung "Sleep on, my love,
sleep on" had probably been on bender, and
was fearful lest his love should awake and
give him rats.
The chap who sighed "Ah could I teach
the nightingale" has gone to teaching school
in the country as being more likely to afford
him his hash.
Voltaire said physician is a man who mixes
drugs of which he knows little, to pour into a
body of which he knows less, to cure disease
of which he knows nothing.
A lady advertises for sale, one baboon, three
tabby cats and parrot She states that, be-
ing married she has no further use for them
because their amiable qualities are all combined
in her husband.
It's singular fact that the ladies who know
how to preserve everything else, can't preserve
tempers Yet it may easily be done on the
selfsealing principle. 1t is, to keep the mouth
of the vessel closed.
An irreverent rascal publishes the following
atrocious conundrum What is the difference
between maiden of sixteen and a maiden Of
sixty? One is careless and happy and the other
hairless and cappy.
''You had better ask for manners than for
money" said finely dressed gentleman to a
beggar boy, who had asked for aims.
II asked for what | thought you had the
most of, was the boy reply.
The editor is absent, the foreman has the
toothache, the devil is drunk and trying to
drink lager beer out of boot jack, the press is
out of order, and we amt we'll ourselves-so
please excuse poor paper this week.
An ignoramus had been sick, and on recov
ering was told by the doctor that he might take
little animal food.
'No, sir said he; Il took your Cruel easy
enough, but hang me if can eat your hay and
oats"
A witness being called to give evidence in a
court in Connecticut respecting the loss Of
shirt, gave the following: Mother said that
Ruth said, that Nell said, that Poll told her,
that she see man that see boys shirt all
lie, for mother haze whipped them thousand
times for lying.
The man who left his name as McGeorgehan
O'FIaherty, from Smoky Row, who is about
feet in length and drunk according and who
called at our Office on Monday, accompanied by
an axe handle to ask if the editor was in, is
respectfully informed that the editor is in Lew
isburg, and is not expected to return within the
memory of the oldest inhabitant.
Nasty gives the following account of his ia
Their: He wus lected constable, and mite prob
ably hev gone higher but for an accident that
occurred to him the first month. He collected
a Judgment for $lS, and the money was paid
to him. The good man was talented collector
but singerly careless payin over wot he collect
ed. Ez showing the pokoolier bent Nv genius
Nv the old man, | repeat conversation wonst
heard. A man who had an account to collect
was consultin' one who knowed my father well,
as to the safety Of putting a claim into his
hands
as he good collector" askt the man.
s'Splendid, y said the neighbor
SIS he a man of responsibility" askt the
''Sir," said the neighbour he has the ability
but you II find when you try to get your money
from him that he lacks the response -
Before you go for an editor, young man,
pause and take big think Do not rush into
the editorial business too hastily. Look around
and see if there is not an omnibus or some meat
cart to drive-some soil somewhere to be titled
or clerkship to be flled-anything that is
reputable Or healthy rather than going for an
editor which is bad business at best. We
are not horse, and consequently have not been
called upon to furnish the motive power for
threshing machine-but we fancy that the life
of an editor who is forced to write, whether he
feels like it or not is much like that of the steed
in question If the yeas and neighs could be
obtained we believe that the intelligent horse
would decide that the threshing machine is
preferable to the sanctum editorial The edi-
tors work is never done. He is drained nces-
sanity, and no wonder that he dries up prema-
turely. Other people can attend banquets,
weddings, ETC., visit halls of dazzling light, get
inebriated, break windows, and enjoy them
selves in a variety of ways, but the editor can
not. He must tenaciously stick to the quill
The press, like sick baby, must not be left to
run itself even for day, or some body indig-
nanty orders the carrier boy to stop that
paper. ''There is nothing in it; I won't have
it in the house.-Artemus Ward