The “Stronger-motive.”

It was the young barrister's first case and he was bubbling over with pride and enthusiasm as he stood in Court.

“Now,” said he, addressing the defendant, “you say you came from Auckland to Wellington merely to look for work? I put it to you there was another, a stronger, motive that brought you all this distance?”

“Well,” hesitated the defendant, “there was—” “Ah!” cried the barrister, triumphantly. “And what was it?” “A locomotive.”

* * *

Teacher: “What do they call the instrument the French use for beheading people?”

Bobby: “The Gillette, I think.”

* * *

Names and Trains.

The number of stations in New Zealand bearing Maori names makes the lot of the booking clerk rather trying until he gets to know his New Zealand thoroughly. Recently a Maori lady walked up to the ticket window at Taumarunui and said to the bright-faced eager cadet, “Ticket for Hinemoa, please.” The young fellow, fresh from the training school and new to the locality, was fairly stumped, and, after a lightning dart through the “Locality Index,” owned up.

“Where's Hinemoa?” he said.

“This Hinemoa,” smilingly replied the wife of Hori, “this piccaninny, sitting right over here on this suit-case.”

A Christmas Gift.

Mother: “Who taught you to use those naughty words, Jackie?”

Jackie: “Santa Claus, mother.”

Mother: “Santa Claus?”

Jackie: “Yes'm, when he fell over the chair in my room on Christmas Eve.”

* * *

The New Car.

Father: “How many miles to a gallon?”

Mother: “What colour is the upholstery?”

Son: “How fast will she go?”

Daughter: “Has it a cigarette lighter?”

Neighbour: “How can they afford it?”

* * *

Buying a Stamp.

A man who had been waiting patiently in the post office could not attract the attention of either of the girls behind the counter. “The evening cloak,” explained one of the girls to her companion, “was a redingote design in gorgeous silver lame brocade, with fox fur and wide pagoda sleeves.”

At this point the long-suffering customer broke in with: “I wonder if you could provide me with a neat brown stamp with a dinky perforated hem, the tout ensemble delicately treated on the reverse with gum-arabic? Something about one penny?”

* * *

Wedding Guest: “This is your fourth daughter to get married, isn't it?”

MacTight: “Ay, and our confetti's gettin’ awfu’ gritty.”