THE STORYTELLER.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVII, Issue 146, 20 June 1906, Page 8

THE STORYTELLER.

WILXDMJ TO ABDICATE.

A certain pivssy preacher recently gave an endless discourse on the prophets. First" he dwelt at length on the minor prophets. At last he finished them, and the congregation gave a sigh of relief. He took a long breaih, and continued: "Now I shall proceed to the major prophets." After the major prophets* had received more than ample attention, the congregation gave another sigh relief. " Now that I have finished with the minor prophets and the major prdphets, what about Jeremiah? Where is Jeremiah's place?" At this point a tall man aroae in the back of the church. " Jeremiah can have my place," he said; " I'm going home."

MORE CLEVER THAN $HE MINISTER.

In some of the more remote jarts of rural Scotland it is still the custom of the minister, when calling upon his flock, to have all the members of the household come in for prayer* and to be tested in their knowledge of the Bible. On one such occasion the minister, having interrogated the more immediate members of the family to his satisfaction, came finally to the ploughboy, who ■was standing awestruck by the door, tremblingly awaiting h turn. Minister: "Noo, Saundy, I'll gie ye a wee bit easy ane; yell nae ha o'er muckle time fer readin'. Can ye tell mc why the children of Israel made a. goolden calf?" Saundy: "Wa-al, I dinna ken, meenistev, unless it be they did na ha' goold enoo ta inak' a coo."

AT THE 'PHONE.

Mr Miggles was trying to call up a friend who lived in a suburban town. Mr Miggles looked up the number, then, got central. "Hello!" , he said. "Give mc Ehndale two-ought-four-seven."' "Elmdnle? I'll give you the long distance?" Long distance asked, "What is it?" "Elmdale two-ought-four-seven." "Elmdale two-ought-four-seven ?" "Yes." "What is your number?" "I just told you. Elmdale twoought —" '"I mean your own house number." ''Sixty-five Blieken-street." "Oh, that isn't what I mean. Your "phone number." / "Why didn't you say so?" , askedd Mr Miggles, who is noted for his quick lempery "1 did. What is it?" "Violet Park eight-seven-seven." "Violet Park, ejgljj^double-seven.?," "I reckon, so." ■"And what number do you want?" "Elmdale two-ought-four-seven." ■' "What is your name?" "My name is John Henry Miggles. 1 live at 65 Blicken-street,- Violet Park; my house 'phone is Violet Park eight-seven-seven, or eight-double-seven, as you choose; I am married, have no children: we keep a dog, and a cat, and a perpetual palm, and a Boston fern, and " "All that is unnecessary, sir. We merely '* "and last summer we didn't have a bit of luck -with our roses: I tried to have a little garden, too, but the neighbours' Chickens got away with that; the bouse is green, with red gables; there is a cement walk from the street; I am 40 years old; my wife is younger, and looks it; we have a piano; keep a cook and an upstairs girl; bad the front bedroom papered last week and I want to- " "Did you want Elmhurst two-ought-four-seven?' "Yes!" gasped Mr Miggles. "Well, the circuit is busy now. Please call again." But Mr Miggles wrote a letter.

TELLING THE WRONG STORY.

They were celebrating their silver wedding, and, of course, the couple were very happy and very affectionate. 'Yes," said the husband, "this is the only woman I ever loved. I ehall not forget the first time I proposed to her." "How did you do it?" burst out a young man who had been squeezing a pretty girl's hand in the comer. They all laughed and he blushed, but the girl carried it off bravely. "Well, I remember- as well as if it were but yesterday. It was at Richmond. Wo had been out for a picnic, and she and I got wandering alone. Don't you remember, my dear?" The wife nodded and smiled. "We sat on the trjnk of an old tree. Yon haven't forgotten, love, have you?" The wife nodded again. "She began writing on the dust with the point of her parasol. You recall it, sweet, don't you." The wife nodded again. "She wrote her name, "Minnie,' and I said, 'Let me put the other name to it.' And I took the parasol and wrote my name—'Smith'—after it." "How lovely!" broke out a little maid, who was beaming in a suspicious way on a tall fellow with a fair moustache. "Aud she took back the parasol and wrote below it, 'No, I won't.' And we went home. You remember it, darling. I see you do." Then he kissed her and the company murmured sentimentally, "Wasn't it pretty?" The guests had all departed and tbe happy couple were left alone. "Wasn't it nice, Minnie, to see all our friends around us so happy?" "Yes, it was. But, John/ that reminiscence!*' "Ah, it seems as if it had been only yesterday." "Yes, dear; there are only three things you're wrong about in that etory." "Wrong? Oh, no!" "John, I am sorry you. told that story, Beeilase .1 never went tb a picnic with before we were married; J was never in Richmond in my life; and I never refused you." "My darling,"you must be wrong!" "I am not wrong, Mr. Smith. I have an excellent memory, and, although we have been married twenty-five years, I'd. like to know who that minx was. You never told me about her before."