The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1880-04-15


er, good housekeeper and kind neigh.
Dor, but she is utterly lacking in ap.
probation of humor, at least Of the
kind which her husband enjoys, if il
can be called by that name.
Wife" he calls out, in a tone OF
great suffering, pulling up his shirt
sleeves, look and see if you can find
the splinter in my arm Down &C
spools, scissors, and button-box, in the
widest confusion, on the floor. The
sensitive woman, with a glance at the
| contorted face, stands over him, him
dered by many groans and much
writhing, till, as he sees how pale she
has grown, he removes his hand and
cries out in "a very different tone
Come to think Of it, there isn't any
there. Ha! ha. ha!' He laughs long
and loudly. It is very funny; very
funny, indeed. 1t is funny to him
exactly in proportion as it is painful
to her. He does not notice the trem-
bling Of the fingers with which she
picks up her scattered sewing, or how,
for the rest of the day, she starts at
every little sound. He has given her
nerves wrench in comparison with
which blow in the face would have
had far less injurious effect.
But it is generally before visitors
that the good man displays his great
est efforts 1t is more trying to his
wife, consequently more satisfactory
to him, to have several spectators. It
is for such occasions that he reserves
his affectionate witticisms c>ncerning
her slack housekeeping" her poor
cooking" her neglect of his clothes,
her general good-for-nothingness, usu-
ally ending with some facetious re-
mark concerning the value of second
wives. She bears it with the equa-
nimity acquired by long practice. For
| her guests-they can best testify as to
their enjoyment Of these matrimonial
courtesies.
John Smith, Jr.. inherits his faith
er's disposition Mary" he calls out
to his sister, whose thorn in the flesh
is her red hair; lend me one of your
curls, will you, to hight my cigar?
Oh, it has struck in again, has it?" is
his observation on her flushed cheeks,
another popularity to which she is
sensitive She is credulous and frank.
too, like her mother. Did you know
the City Hall was burned DOWN." he
asks her, with serious air. "Why,
no. Is it?" is the natural answer.
Not that I know of. Ha. ha! hal"
laughs John, Jr. She speaks of a
sick friend who has eaten nothing for
ten DAYS. "Why, Mary, there is
man | know of who has not tasted
mouthful for ten years." he exclaims.
why, where?" she asks, hastily.
"Oh, in Greenwood Cemetery" and
he laughs again. He is the punster
of the family circle. He asks his lit
tie sister. an affectionate child, who
hangs about him in an unwelcome
way, why she is like silver dollar,
and answers her questioning look by
the assertion that she is always round.
The burst of, tears which follows this
announcement, the child perceiving
only the offense Of the remark, is sat-
isfactory to him, as he is. thereafter
allowed to read his newspaper undis-
turbed It is true, as Emerson says,
There are people who can never un-
derstand trope, or any expanded
sense given to your words or any hu-
NOR; but remain literalists after hear
ing the music, poetry, and rhetoric,
and wit of seventy or eighty years.
They are past the help of surgeon or
clergy. But even these can UNDER
stand pitchforks and the cry Of fire,
and I have noticed in some of this
class, a marked dislike Of earthquakes" "
Unfortunate, indeed, are the poor
people who can never ''see the point"
of a joke, or join in the laugh which
it raises. But misfortune of body or
soul deserves tender treatment. We
are not to toss these mental cripples
upon the pitchforks of our wit, shout
false alarms into their too credulous
ears, or startle them with assumed
convulsions which may throw Il EN-
into the same condition. Fun is bet
ter than physic." and a good joke is
one of the best things in life; but fun
and joke on one side at the cost of
discomfort or suffering on the other,
ceases to be funny, but becomes, of all
things, the most silly and stupid. 1t
is worse than that; it is cruelty and
persecution. There are gravestones
on the hillsides upon which could be
truthfully inscribed: ''Teased to
death by her loving and disconsolate
husband"
There is no time of peace in which
the modern Hector prepares for war.
He never lays down his arms; his enc
mics are always in expectation of his
assaults. He is an ignoble warrior.
He beats down weakness which can
make no resistance. He attacks not
the seen and the physical, but the
more precious unseen and spiritual,
and his military record is but a series
of mean and dishonorable exploits.