Misunderstood
Mistress: “Don’t call them jugs, Mary; they’re ewers.”
Maid: “Oh, thank you, ma’am. And are all them little basins mine, too?”
All Brains
A gentleman who was walking through a public gallery, where a number of artists were at work, overheard the following amusing conversation between a big, heavy-looking man, who was painting on a large picture, and a weak-looking little cripple, who, limping over to where he sat, looked over his shoulder for a few minutes, and said timidly:
“I beg your pardon, sir, may I ask what medium you paint with?”
“Brains,” shouted the other in a voice of thunder.
“Oh, indeed! That accounts for its fogginess,” which caused a roar of laughter.