WISE AND OTHERWISE.

King Country Chronicle, Volume X, Issue 909, 23 September 1916, Page 7

WISE AND OTHERWISE.

EQUAL TO IT. I was recently playing in a melodrama where in the laßt scene the heroine and myself were supposed to be imprisoned in a turret chamber, every door locked and barred on the outside, and an infernal machine placed underneath, timed to explode in five minutes. We were working up - the "agony" and the audience were breathless with excitement. I made a dash towards one of the doors with the intention of trying to break it down, and found it wide open. Here was a predicament. I Btood dumbfounded. The audience began to titter. The heroine unromantically whispered, "Oh, Charlie, the scene is bottled up !" An inspiration came to me. I seized my sweetheart and dragged her through the open door, shouting, "Ah, thank Heaven, a way of escape !" Then, dashing back with a wail of agony—"No, the outer door is fastened. We are lost, lost ! v READING THE HAND. "Do you know anything about palmistry, Herbert?" she asked. "Oh, not much!" he answered, with the air of modesty which is not intended to be implicitly believed in. "Not a great deal, although I had an experience last night which might be considered a remarkable example of the art you mention. I happened to glance at the hand of a friend of mine, and I immediately predicted that he would presently \ become the possessor of a considerable amount of money. Before he left the room he had a nice little Bum handed to him." "And you told it just from his hand ?" "Yes. It had four aces in it." AMPLY AVENGED. Bilson is rather stout. One morning he was puffing and panting wildly in a terrific rush to catch a train, when Jones, a friend, hailed him. "Hallo, Bilson ! In a hurry? Going somewhere ?" Bilson hadn't breath to spare for a reply, but he determined on a grand revenge. About one o'clock next morning Jones' telephone-bell rang wildly, waking the Jones family from end to end. Amid an outburst of baby's cries and mother's anxious inquiries, Jones answered the call. "That you, Jones ?" came a voice over the wire. "This is Bilson." "Yes," replied Jones, rather crossly ; "what d'you want? I've been in bed these two hours !" "Sorry," came the reply ; "but do yon remember seeing me running the other morning—eh ? Yea ? Well, I was going somewhere, and I was in a hurry. That's all. Good-night !" BAFFLING THE CORONER. A story is told of a country coroner who was called upon to hold an inquest over the body of an Italian. The only witness was a small boy of the same nationality, who spoke no English. The examination proceeded thus : "Where do you live my boy ?' The boy shook his head. "Do you speak English ?" Another shake of the head.. "Do you speak French ?" Another shake. "Do you speak German?'* Still no answer. "How old are you ?" No reply. "Do you speak Italian?'* The boy gave no sign. "Well," said the coroner, "I have questioned the witness in four languages, and can get no answer. It is useless to proceed. The Court is adjourned until further evidence can be obtained." Getting on a Southport car the other day I seated myself between two young ..fellows who seemed to be in a jovial mood, and were trying to take a rise out of the lady conductor. When she came to collect the fares, one of the young fellows asked for two tickets to Salonica. She handed him two tickets without a word or smile. I» about half an hour the car suddenly stopped, and the lady conductor called out, "The two passengers for Salonica please get out here." All the passengers Laughed, for the car had stopped opposite ■ a recruiting station. For real economy in war time 1 think the fact related in the foHowing anecdote takes the biscuit : They were two burly Anzaca, and they met for the first time since Gailipoli in the Strand. Eack 'had lost a leg, and were walking on crutches. They stared at one another for some moments, and then the elder held out Ins hand. "Gor, Billy," he exclaimed, "you're just the old man I wanted to meet, "you're going to save me, ten bob. Come inside." He pulled his friend into a neighbouring boot shop. "Here, what's the game?" said the other. "Why, Billy, old son, don't you sec you've lost your left teg and I've lost me right, and as we always did take the same size in boots we can split the'blooming pair between us." "Gladys," said her stern fathe*, "I am shocked. I actually saw you kiss that tall young man with the long hair." "Well, papa, he's an author," spoke up Miss Gladys, with a pout. "And what has that to do with it?" "Why, papa, didn't you say with your own lips that young authors should be encouraged ?"