Stories of Dean Sole,

Evening Post, Volume LXVIII, Issue 98, 22 October 1904, Page 13

Stories of Dean Sole,

Dean Hole, whose death was reported on 26th August, was the wittiest of our witty clerics, says St James's Budget. Ho spread his geniality wherever he went, and his apt and humorous remarks have made his name famous not only in England, but in America and in the colonies. He preserved his sunny outlook on life to the last. But a year ago, at the National Rose Society's Show in Temple Gardens, lie replied to a friend who enquired after his health : "I'm just eighty-three degrees in the shade, thanks !" Even as far back as 1878 he set the Midlands laughing. Canon Ryle, the late Bishop of Liverpool, had written to the Nottingham papers to controvert some of Canon (as he was then) Hole's statements. In the course of his letter he introduced references to 6everal of his well-known religious tracts, mentioning that they were still in print, and could be obtained for a penny. Dean Hole's winding-up of the correspondence was delightfully characteristic. It was simply this: "I am lost in admiration of Canon Ryle's canniness in getting round you Nottingham editors and securing a gratuitous advertisement for his tracts. Fair play is a jewel; permit me, then, in my turn, to use your columns to assure your readers that my 'Book About Roses,' price — , published by — , is still in print, and is a most suitable present at Christmastide." Three or four years ago the Dean and Mrs. Hole landed at Dover, much exhausted, having had a rough. Channel crossing. To fill out the time of waiting for the train the Dean pored over the railway regulations. "Ah, he said, addressing the station inspector, "it's one consolation after such a crossing and this tiresome wait • that we go back half-price." "I don't understand, teir," was the official's reply j "there is no special reduction." "Oh, yes, there is," said the Dean, "I've just been reading all your notices, and you state that you talke returned empties at a much reduced rate." How widespread was the Dean's gardening fame is here illustrated. He was visiting one of the most beautiful gardens in England during the absence of the owner. Meeting the head gardener he asked permission to make an inspection ot the place. ' "Are you Mr. Reynolds Hole?" enquired the gardener. The Dean, replying in the affirmative, was somewhat perplexed' to see the gardener turn his back. His momentary anxiety, however, was immediately relieved on hearingjiim shout out, "Set the fountains playingj Bill." He once observed that if he had* not been "brought up a Dean" lie would have pnelferred to be either a master of foxhounds, a head^gardener, or a bookseller. Another time, in talking in praise of fruit, the Dean observed that if England were deprived of her apple tart, he would for the first time be compelled to emigrate. He would like, he added, to see a Minister k of Horticulture and degrees to mateh — such as D.D., Doctor of Damsons; M.A., Master of Apples. The Dean liked not the preacher who puzzled his congregation. A famous classical scholar thus addressed a handful of yokels in the Lake District, "In this beautiful country, my brethren, you have the apotheosis of nature, and an apodeikneusis of the oprattie omnipotence." The Dean was not surprised, when he asked one of his flock what it was about, to be answered, "It was about an hour and a half." On the temperance question teetotallers often fell out with the Dean. He would insist on his right to "moderate" drinking. When any one can accuse me of overindulgence," he used to argue, "I will allow them to talk to me ; but no man has the right, on any grounds, Christian or moral, to demand that I shall give up the legitimate use of any article because he cannot, or will not, use it without abuse." The Dean, once hearing a "Temperance" orator proclaim that when a man began, to take alcoholic liquor he' ivas sowing the seeds of mortal disease, so far forgot himself as to murmur "Rubbish !" — seeing that ,as he said, his father sowed till he was ninety, and he himself at eighty was engaged in the same occupation. The Dean told a good story about alcohol. Persons who live among habitual drunkards are apt to fancy that all the world is drunk. One of the most beloved of bishops was seated on a bench in some public grounds, and was talking to a little maiden who came by, some seven years of age. "I must go now," he said, "and you must help me to rise, but I'm afraid you'll find me very heavy." "Oh, no," she replied, "you're not half so drunk as father often is." The Dean did not think that babies are better managed now than in his youth. He was of opinion that mothers trust too much, to nurses, and he disliked perambulators with a dislike born of memory. "I shall never forget," he said, "the ordeal when, in attempting to avoid one of these machines, I lost my balance and stumbled on aoaother, upsetting it, and ejecting the occupant. I fell clear of it ; but the nurse, although the baby was screaming loudly, immediately announced, "He's killed the child !" and it was evidently the verdict of the spectators that I had out-Heroded Herod, and ought to die."