Repartee is saying on the instant what you didn’t say until the next morning.

Among the members of a working gang on a certain railroad was an Irishman who claimed to be very good at figures. The boss, thinking that he would get ahead of Pat, said: “Say, Pat, how many shirts can you get out of a yard?”

“That depends,” answered Pat, “on whose yard you get into.”

A middle-aged farmer accosted a serious-faced youth outside the Grand Central Station in New York the other day.

“Young man,” he said, plucking his sleeve, “I wanter go to Central Park.”

The youth seemed lost in consideration for a moment.

“Well,” he said finally, “you may just this once. But I don’t want you ever, ever to ask me again.”

SEEDY VISITOR— “Do you have many wrecks about here, boatman?”

BOATMAN—”Not very many, sir. You’re the first I’ve seen this season.”

HER DAD—”No, sir; I won’t have my daughter tied for life to a stupid fool.”

HER SUITOR—”Then don’t you think you’d better let me take her off your hands?”

SOLEMN SENIOR—”So your efforts to get on the team were fruitless, were they?”

FOOLISH FRESHMAN—”Oh, no! Not at all. They gave me a lemon.”—Harvard Lampoon.

A benevolent person watched a workman laboriously windlassing rock from a shaft while the broiling sun was beating down on his bare head.

“My dear man,” observed the onlooker, “are you not afraid that your brain will be affected in the hot sun?”

The laborer contemplated him for a moment and then replied:

“Do you think a man with any brains would be working at this kind of a job?”

Winston Churchill, the young English statesman, recently began to raise a mustache, and while it was still in the budding stage he was asked at a dinner party to take in to dinner an English girl who had decided opposing political views.

“I am sorry,” said Mr. Churchill, “we cannot agree on politics.”

“No, we can’t,” rejoined the girl, “for to be frank with you I like your politics about as little as I do your mustache.”

“Well,” replied Mr. Churchill, “remember that you are not likely to come into contact with either.”

Strickland Gillilan, the lecturer and the man who pole-vaulted into fame by his “Off Ag’in, On Ag’in, Finnigin” verses, was about to deliver a lecture in a small Missouri town. He asked the chairman of the committee whether he might have a small pitcher of ice-water on the platform table.