"Matrimony is the root of all
evil" ~ Author Unknown
Catholic Archbishop was visiting
a small parish in a mining district one day for the purpose of
confirmation, and asked one nervous little girl what matrimony is.
"It is a state of terrible
torment which those who enter are compelled to undergo for a time to
them for a brighter and better world," she said.
"No, no," remonstrated her
rector; "that isn't matrimony: that's the definition of purgatory."
"Leave her alone," said the
Archbishop; "maybe she is right. What do you and I know about it?"
WHERE AM I?
"Where am I?" the invalid
waking from the long delirium of fever and feeling the comfort that
hands had supplied. "Where am I—in heaven?"
"No, dear," cooed his wife;
"I am still with you."
"Was Helen's marriage a success?"
asked young cousin who was late for wedding ceremony.
"Goodness, yes. Why, she
is now married to a nobleman on the alimony," said the local Judge who
attended the wedding.
SUCH A PESSIMIST
JENNIE: — "What makes George
such a pessimist?"
JACK: —"Well, he's been married
three times—once for love, once for money and the last time for a home."
MRS. SMITH: "Is your daughter
happily mar'd, Mrs. Lucas?"
MRS. LUCAS: "She sho' is!
Bless goodness she's done got a husband dat's scared
to death of her!"
"I can take a hundred words
a minute," said the stenographer.
"I often take more than that,"
said the prospective employer; "but then I have to, I'm married."
A HALF CENTURY OF
A young lady entered a book
store and inquired of the gentlemanly clerk—a married man,
he had a book suitable for an old gentleman who had been married fifty
Without the least hesitation
the clerk reached for a copy of Parkman's "A Half Century of Conflict."
O'Flanagan came home one night
with a deep band of black crape around his hat.
"Why, Mike!" exclaimed his
wife. "What are ye wearin' thot mournful thing for?"
"I'm wearin' it for your
first husband," replied Mike firmly. "I'm sorry he's dead."
* * *
HIS BETTER HALF: —"I think it's
time we got Lizzie married and settled down, Alfred. She will be
next week you know."
HER LESSER HALF: —"Oh, don't
hurry, my dear. Better wait till the right sort of man comes along."
HIS BETTER HALF: —"But why
wait? I didn't!"