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Greymouth Evening Star, 4 July 1938, Page 2

The policeman was suspicious. “How do you come to be in possession of that jar of honey?” he asked the tramp. “I admit that I don’t keep bees,” the wanderer replied, “but what’s to stop a chap squeezing the honey out of the flowers himself?” “Well, doctor, you said I’d be walking within a month, and here I am.” “Well, well, tliht’s fine.” “Yes, I had to sell my car when I got your bill.” “It is ourselves that we cannot forgive when we deny forgiveness to a friend; some strand of our oWn misdding is involved in every' quarrel.”— R. L. Stevenson.