ENTERPRISING NICODEMUS

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume III, Issue 361, 21 February 1914, Page 3 (Supplement)

ENTERPRISING NICODEMUS

About this time of the year, says an English paper, the New Yorkers begin to look out for the annual “Hughes practical joke.”

Mr. ; Brian Hughes is a wealthy old banker with a mania for practical joking, and once a year, about Christmas time, he explodes a practical joke on a large scale.

One year he bought a stray cat from a shoeblack for a few coppers. He fed it up well, gave it the name of Nicodemus, wrote out a pedigree for it dating back almost to the sacred cats of the Pharoahs and entered it for the big annual Oat Show in New York. The judges were so impressed with the pedigree jand the expensive paraphernalia, with which Mr. Hughes had surrqupdcd.the cat, -toat .they gave it the first prize in. one of the MALE classes; . VeaJ i°ke was that-a few weeks later Nicodemus gkve birth tea. fine litter of-kittens! ■ THE TRIALS OF A HUMORIST. • Sir William-Bailey, the famous engineer, who. died at the Savoy Hotel, London,-the-other day, was one of the -promoters',of 'the Manchester Ship '.CanaL> y- . -'llb'was a kind-hearted-man who alWaysTiad stpiiy to tell; one of his -gtoStaUuisiilg.bemg rather against himtseltr ■ *_.- .. . “Hfevq y OU .heard njy last story?” he -Onca asked-a Manchester lady. , But. the- lady was tired of Sir William’s stories, and she replied tartly, “I hope, sol”

A SOFT JOB. Speaking recently of his work, the Archdeacon of London remarked that in his archdeaconry there were three large prisons which he was expected to visit. He said that; the. prisoners generally seemed to have the idea that the clergy had nothing whatever to do, and he told a story of an old woman wbo was discussing her husband’s prospects with the prison chaplain. “I wish you could get a job for my old man,” she said. “He’s not up to much and_ can’t do anything, but he wants a nice soft job like yours.” QUEER ACQUAINTANCES. Mr. Will Crooks, M.P., who recently returned from a long tour in Australia and South Africa, is one of the bestknown men in his own constituency, and not every M.P. .can claim as much.’ He has been relating some of his experiences during his recent tour, and lie. says that not th© least remarkable: thing about it was that at nearly every; railway station and every port he stopped at somebody recognised him. The climax was reached during his’visit to Pretoria. “I was being'shbwn over the Central Convict Prison,” he says, “when, one of the convicts looked tip and said: 1 ‘How do you do, Mr. Crooks?’ !” WHAT THEY THINK: OF IT THERE. Another story Mr. Crooks gathered during the tour was about an Australian 'politician who was walking ©long a country road when farmer, passing in a cart, stopped and offered him a lift. The politician accepted willingly, and ns they jagged along the farmer crossexamined him as to his affairs. “ And what are you in business?” the farmer asked. “I’m not exactly in business,” was the reply. “I’m a professional man.” “What profession?” was the next question. “I’m a politician,” replied the other patiently. “Politician!” exclaimed the scornful farmer. “That’s not a profession! That’s a disease!’’

IN THE PUBLIC EYE. After all. the train was only forty minutes behind time, so the stationmaster was perfectly justified in feeling pleased with himself, the railway, and the world in general. A solitary waiting passenger was morbidly weighing himself at an automatic machine, and when he stepped off it the jovial official proceeded to talk to hint. “Wonderful thing, the railway system, sir!” he chirped. “I do really believe that even the general public is at last beginning to realise the marvellous improvements that’have 1 taken place oh this dine in recent years !” “That’s true,” answered the morbid one. T ‘l know of no line that has so many things constantly in th© piiblic eye as this’ one!” The station-master was delighted. “ I am so glad to hear you say so, sir!” he chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “And would Jyou mind naming them.”

The waiting’ passenger tookod pensively down the platform. "Cinders!” said he.