Since Grandma didn’t write anything a hundred years ago today, I thought you might enjoy some jokes that were in the October, 1914 issue of Ladies Home Journal.
She Knew From Experience
“What is conscience”” asked the Sunday school teacher.
There was a dead silence from the class.
“Oh, you know, “She said encouragingly. “What is it that tells us when we do wrong?”
“I know,” said the littlest girl in the class. “It’s Grandma.”
He Started Something
“Now,” said the farmer to the new hand from the city, “I want you to clean up the pigsty and the stable and the henhouse and all the other houses of the stock.”
The new hand worked vigorously for a couple of days. Then he appeared before his employer with both eyes nearly closed, his mouth swollen, and red lumps all over his face and neck and hands.
“Gimme my money,” he said, “I’m a-goin to quit.”
“What’s the matter?” said the farmer.
I don’t know what’s the matter,” said the victim, “but it happened when I started to clean the beehive.”
Picking Them Out
The Governor of a Southern State came in to his office with a friend one morning to find a number of men waiting in the anteroom. Pausing an instant he told a story that was a decided “chestnut.”
When they got inside the private office the friend said: “That was a horrible one you sprung on those fellows.”
“I know it,” chuckled the Governor, “but did you notice the ones that laughed?”
“Well, I noticed that three or four did.”
“Those, said the Governor, “are the fellows who won’t get in to see me. They are the ones who have favors to ask.”
He Did It
“If any man here,” shouted the temperance speaker, “can name an honest business that has been helped by the saloon I will spend the rest of my life working for the liquor people.”
A man in the audience arose. “I consider my business honest,” he said, and it has been helped by the saloon.”
“What is your business?” yelled the orator.
“I, sir,” responded the man, “am an undertaker.”
Profiting by a Lesson
Young Tommy returned from school in tears and nursing a black eye.
“Betcher I’ll pay Billy Bobbs off for this in the morning,” he wailed to his mother.
“No, no,” she said, “You must return good for evil. I’ll make you a nice jam tart and you must take it to Billy and say, ‘Mother says I must return good for evil, so here’s a tart for you.”
Tommy demurred, but finally consented. The next evening he returned in a worse plight and sobbed, “I gave Billy the tart and told him what you said. “ ‘N then he blacked my other eye and say to send him another tart tomorrow.”