THE MAN WHO WEEPS.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 1521, 5 March 1886, Page 3

THE MAN WHO WEEPS.

Ho entered a confectioner's shop in London road at eleren o'clock in the forenoon. He didn't look like a neat and tidy old man about ready to join the angels, but he resembled an old man who had slept in a barn and was about ready to join in a big dinner. " What is collateral to gooseberry pie F" asked the man as he looked into the showcase.

She didn't know, and he said he thoueht damson was, and that he would take a damson pie. She handed one down, and, as he took out his knife and cut into it, she said:

44 Fourpence, if you please." " Change a note, I s'pos* ?" he queried as he took in a twelfth part of the pie at one bite. " Fes, sir."

44 Have you any objections to feeling down my boot-leg and pulling up a jEo bank-note?" he asked, as he cut the second piece. She said she had, and she furthermore hinted that he hadn't seen a banknote for the last ten years. " Oh, yes I have," he pleasantly responded, as he cleared his mouth. I was looking into a money-changer's window yesterday, and I saw a pile of them"

There was one more mouthful of pie, and as he swallowed it the woman called out:

" Now; I want the fonrpence." "So do I," waa the quiet answer, 44 I'll call my husband and have you kicked I" she exclaimed.

" You will call in a young and vigor oub man and have him beat and bruise an old man like me, weak in the legs, near gone »ith consumption, and only barely able to stand up. That crush, ee wbat little spirit 1 had left when I began on that pie." He sat down and began to weep and sob, and after a moment she said :

" You should have told me that you had no money." " More abuse —more recrimination —boo-hoo P he sobbed, shedding tears as large as beans. " Don't make so much noise," she chided.

"There you go again, heaping more anathemas on these grey haira ! Oh! wbat a cold, cold world this is—-boo-hoo!"

" Never mind the pie—go away." " I'll never leave this cookshop with a stain on my character—never! I have no money, but you shall have my coat I Here —take it P

He was peeling it off, when she laid ahe didn't want it—that ahe wanted him to get right off. " I'll never go out till I requite this (boo-hoo) claim —boo-hoo P he sobbed, and he pulled off hia waistcoat and Bung it after the coat. " Q-et out, I say—you can have the pie—get out!" she screamed. " My character (boo-hoo) must be cleared,(boo-hoo), and if these are not enough I'll leave my boots. Here, take my poor old boots, and I'll go forth in my bare feet P •* Stop—stop 1 I was only in fun with you. 1 didn't want no fourpence of you any of the time ! Here are some Eccles cakes and another pie—take 'em go out!' " Have I—boo-hoo—cleared my character P" he asked.

" Yea yes you are an honest man."

u Shall I leave you all my clothes f" he inquired, as he dropped a suspender off his shoulder. " No—no--no P

" Well, I will go out. I will take along the Eccl«« cakes and custard pie ai mementoes of this occasion, ana I will go oat feeling that you appreciate me." " Yes —I do—l do."

He put on bis garments, took up his provisions, and his tears flowed afresh as he went out saying: " Whenever anyone wants to break my heart, let 'em call me a dishonest ingrate. Good-bye."

aiorioua newa for •choolbayi.—A. tailor «dr*rti*M boy»' iaokste m defying anything to bit! tfttWi

ETYMOLOGISTS AND SLANG.

It used to be a common habit of etymologists, when a word was troublesome, to alter it a little, so as to put sense into it—to do, in fact, with scientific pretension just what costermongers do for colloquial purposes. One of these clever scholars —the great mistake of philologists lies in being too clever—was puzzled, writes a contemporary, that a " Welsh rabbit" should mean a piece of toasted cheese, so he decided that it must be a corruption of " Welsh rare-bit." The public believed bim, and took to spelling it accordingly, so that even now the best edition of Webster's Dictionary gives it as properly " Welsh rare-bit." The whole of this is stuff and nonsense; the verv name " rare-bit" is a fiction, and " Welsh rabbit" is a genuine slang term, belonging to a large group which describe in the same humourous way the special dish or product, or peculiarity of a particular district For examples, an " Essex stile " is a ditch, and an " Essex lion " a calf; a " Field Lane duck" is a baked sheep's head; 44 Glasgow magistrates," or u Gourock hame," or 44 Norfolk capons," are red herrings; 44 Irish apricots" or 44 Munster j lums " are potatoes; 44 Gravesend sweetmeats" are shrimps; and a 44 Jerusalem pony " is a doukey.