Page 3 Advertisements Column 3

Mataura Ensign, Issue 1145, 5 February 1903, Page 3

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Hesitation. The manager of a great local company was noted for hia dilatory and hesitating policy. On one occasion, however, when he was anxious that the board of directors should adopt a certain scheme which he recommended, he wasi heard to say, after the board had decided in favour of delay, "He who hesitates is lost." "Well, Mr. Slough," said a gentleman who heard him, "you—must have been lost a good many times, then !" He Was the Han. Mr. Harry Webb, one of the "Two Dromios," like Shakspeare, acted on the stage and looked after " the front of the house," and was very energetic in both departments. Once, when rehearsing the witches' scene in "Macbeth," he ran round and peeped through the little bull'seye window of a central private box to Judge of the stage effeet. He only saw .^^ wltches d ? ncl ng round the caldron. Where s the third witch ?'.' he shouted to the stage manager. " Fine him ! Fine him !" "You're the third witch, Mr. Webb," replied the official ; and the manager looked round at bis wit,vh'<i dress, and was silent. An Awkward Mistake. Senor Zeballos, formerly Minister to the United States from Argentina, did not speak English very fluently '• I make often many meestake when I speak Americano," said he. "I make ah thew e hVV aSt time X am '« at the White House, a beautiful iadee tell civi, s w a e , tMn l which ha ™™ ' yo*" Civil War. She says she see it. Now. , nk . '° myself I win be polite and make the senora a grand compliment It is impossible that you see it, madam ' l say. You must have been born many many years before the war.' All "lie time," concluded Zeballos, "I mean after the war. But I make a mec-stak,. I say ' before.' No, the ladee was not pleased. She felt much contempt." A Little Lotion. m "™ y £ U I 3*?. anything for the nalr?" queried the barber as he insinuatingly waved his band towards a shelf laden with various improvers and beautlflers of the human wool. " Ah, thanks '" £l SWe £ ed .M h - e . man wltn the bibulous beak, hastily rising from the operationT 8 a pub - next door, 1 don t mind slightly wetting my moustache with a drop of DunVille r He made for the door, and the barber realised that he must either stand a threepenny drink or lose an elghtpenny fee. Tactlessness. The underlying principle of tactlessness is nothing more nor less than self-absorp-tion. The blunderer is looking at thinirs simply from his own side, and is not ■taking into account the feelings of others at all. He says what is uppermost in his mind regardless of consequences because he has not at all considered if there are likely to be any consequences ; and in the end pretty severe account is sure to be reckoned with him by the-inconsiderate people who insist not only upon having feelings, but in assuming it to be reasonable that the existence of these feelings shall be recognised. It is generally idle to attempt to remonstrate with a tactless man, since as little can be done in the way of reformation as in extracting from a fool his folly by never so thorough a course of braying in a mortar. Such persons are simply to be avoided.

The Age of Loyo WWey (at breakfast): "Here's a lot more rot about the 'Age of Love' in that • Daily Telegraph' this morning-. Fancy 'those wretched creatures saying- that folks could get spoony about 60. How will you feel towards me at that age, ■dear ?" Hubby (with a snarl) : " Don't know. I fancy a few more doses of this vile weak coffee of yours will squeeze the romance out of me as it is. Can't speak, about 60! (Wifey ejaculates " Brute !" upsets something, throws down the "D. T.," and exits with an extra vigorous slam of the door !) Pleasure of Mind.trs. Greenwlfe : " Mr. Lupin, those hyacinths that you sold me last year came up onions !" Mr. Lupin (a nurseryman, guilty, but possessed of presence of mind): "You don't say so, ma'am ! What a striking natural phenomenon ! Never heard of such a thing ! I fancy I'll send particulars of the oddity to the 'Gazette of-Horticulture' !" And poor Mrs. Greenwlfe went a tne surjuros was about to become famous in gardening literature. The First Fan. The following Chinese legend, wc arc told, accounts for the invention of the fan in a rather ingenious fashion :—The beautiful Kan Si, daughter of a powerful mandarin, was assisting at the feast of lanterns, when she became overpowered by the heat. She was compelled to take off her mask. But as it was illegal to expose her face, she held her mask before It and gently fluttered it to cool herself. The Court ladies present noticed it, and in an instant two other ladies were waving their masks. This was the birth of the fan. Paternal Grief. "Augh-waugh !" It was the baby. He had repeated the remark sixty times in the last hour. Mr. Newleigh's hair, such as it was, stood on end. " Gwow ahwb wowbdgbw filwaugh !" added the baby, while people living across the street got up and closed their windows. ■Mr. Nowleigh ground his teeth. "To think," he groaned, burying his face in the pillows, " that I should grow up to ■become the father of a railway station train crier !" A Question of Age. " You wheelmen will have to pay a city tax on your bicycles now," said one Pitlsburger to another. " Indeed ?" " Yes, the new ordinance says that all owners of bicycles and tricycles over the age of 14 years, using the public highways, shall pay fifty cents for each machine." " That doesn't include me." " What's the reason it doesn't, I'd like to know '!" "My bicycle isn't 14 years old. I only bought It last spring." " Pitts-burg-Telegraph." A Mean Husband. "O, by the way, Tom," said a lady to her husband just after breakfast, " be sure and bring home that new silk dross I selected yesterday—crushed strawberry, you know." " Hark ye, Maria," replied the melodramatic Thomas, " methinks I now canst trace a close analogy between a crushed strawberry and a crushed pocket-book. Take that small burden on thy mind, and muse awhile, my dear." Not Always Easy. "After all," mused the girl from whose hand had slipped a copy of Ibsen. "it is very easy to lose one's good name." The girl who, on the other hand, had learned to cook fourteen varieties of biscuit, and to sit still for an hour without saying a word, and yet was single, shrugged her shoulders. " Oh, I don't know," she rejoined. The ocean roared in its tumulUMU'i glee, and tickled a shark playfi''' n the ribs.—" Detroit Tribune." More people poison themselvrcident than by suicidal Intent!.

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