ODD STORIES.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XL, Issue 12240, 8 April 1903, Page 2 (Supplement)

ODD STORIES.

AS AN ALTERNATIVE, In some parts of the Canadian bock con , the recurrence of boiled salmon, broiled mon, salmon cutlets, and salmon steak^"V-' every meal becomes, after a few weeks *' trifle monotonous. To the native m] ' brought up on it. this constant reapp eara ' of the self-same dish is a matter but to the newly-arrived tourist it '. last into a feeble joke. b ' . Is there nothing else for breakfast gal one such victim of. colonial hospitality !a -' ■ whole fish and a pot of mustard were IMI ■ before him on the table. , laid "Nothing else!" replied the host, in «*... prise; " why, there's salmon enough ther« for six. ain't there ?" ° "Yes," responded the guest mildly, «Km I don't care for salmon." '' " x Well, then, fire into the mustard '" wasthe rejoinder. ' • "JANE." Ladv Aberdeen, in her lecture the othet day on women in Canada, told an anecdote - which must have appealed to her hearers who were mostly women, and had thus had the servant problem presented to them in an intimate form. The Governor-General and his wife, when they were making a journey across the Dominion, dined one night at a house " remarkable even among Canadian homes for it 3 charm *and beauty, presided over by one of II the most attractive of mistresses." , Thev were waited on by so trim a parlourmaid that Lord Aberdeen felt constrained tc ''■■ compliment the hostess on the results of her training. i ~ "Oh," said the lady, "I am so glad YouH think Jane did well—l should like you to tell' ■ her so presently." s And when that "presently" came, said Lady Aberdeen, who should she discover "Jane" arrayed in evening dress, ani ''■-'■■ proving to be the daughter of the house! who, in consequence of the unexpected departure of the servant, had had not only to wait at table, but to cook the meal with tk assistance of her mother. Lady Aberdeen said that this is a perfectly fair illustration of the Canadian woman.— Chronicle. OUT OF BONDAGE. A clergyman was sitting in his study on( evening hard at work on the following Sua- ■ day's sermon when a visitor was announced. - She was a hard, muscular-looking woman; and when the minister set a chair for her she said, somewhat brusquely— are Mr. J , ain't vou?" "I am," replied the clergyman. "Well, maybe you'll remember o' marrying a couple o' strangers at your church a month : ago V The" clergyman reierred to his diary for a moment, and then said—"What were the names?" "Peter Simpson and ; Eliza Brown," replied the woman, adding— | '" And I'm Eliza." " Are you indeed?" said : the minister. "I thought I remem—- —'.' " Yes," interrupted the visitor, "I'm her, and I thought I'd drop in and tell you that Peter's escaped." J -

WHY HE REFRAINED. " Mr. Brown," she said graciously, "you are one of the most original men I have met for ever so long. You haven't said a single word about the weather." " No," he replied, with a tinge of regret 1 in his voice, "I couldn't give my opinion, of the weather in the presence of ladies." SILENCED HIM. Among the assembled officers at a recent - supper in South Africa was a very pompous,, self-opinioned major, whose rank com- f; manded for him a respectful hearing, but whose habit of instructing his brethren in matters military both in and out of season,' made him rather unpopular. A certain captain and the major sat side bv side at the table, and the martial potentate voiced his opinions in his usual manner. The captain bore the infliction humbly for a • time, then, taking advantage of a pause, when the major wanted to get breath, lie said, veiy complacently and irrelevantly-- " Do you know, major. I met a man this morning who would gladly forfeit £50 org*! the pleasure of kicking you?" "Kicking me, sir!" roared the angry 'major; "kicking me ! I must ask you tc mention his name immediately." ■ " But the fact is, major, I am not sure' that I ought to tell you," replied the captain, with well-assumed caution, " But I insist on knowing his name, sir!" shouted the truculent officer, now red with rage. " Well, sir. I suppose I must tell you. It was a poor fellow in the hospital, who has J; lost both legs by the bursting of a shell."— Cassell's Saturday Journal." • ; . A BRET. ARTE LETTER. Here is a characteristically droll letter from Bret Harte to Mr. Edgar Pemberton, the writer of the authorised biography of the |J dead novelist. Dear Mr. Pemberton, be alarmed if you should hear of my having ■ nearly blown the top of my head off. Last Monday I had my face badly cut by the re- ;'■ coil of an overloaded gun. I do not know ; yet beneath these bandages, whether I shall i be permanently marked. At present law■;.;; invisible, and have tried to keep the accident |g a' secret. When the surgeon was stitching; me together, the son of the house, a boy of 12, came timidly to the door of the room. " Tell Mr. Bret Harte it's all right," he said; "he killed the hare!" Yours always, Bret.4 Haute. .'■•'> " ■% A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER. As a junior counsel Mr. Justice Hawkini ': was once practising before Lord Campbell, jg In addressing the jury he referred to »j. brougham, and pronounced the word with', two —bro'am. " Excuse me," saidif His Lordship blandly, "but I think that if ' instead of saying ' bro'am' you were to say : ' broom,' you would be more intelligible to the jury, and moreover you would save * . syllable." :_ "I. am much obliged to Your Lordship," quietly replied Mr. Hawkins, and proceeded to bring his address to a close. Presently the judge, in summing up, made ' use of the word "omnibus." Instantly Mr. Hawkins rose and exclaimed, " Pardon me,, m'lud, but I would take the liberty of suggesting' that instead of saying 'omnibus' Your Lordship should say ' bus ;' you would then be more intelligible to the jury, and, besides, you would save two syllables." A PRECISE WITNESS. "Are you a native of this parish?" asked a Scottish sheriff of a witness, who was summoned to testify in a case of illicit distilling. -n». "Maistly, your honor," whs the reply. " I mean were you bom in this parish?" " Na, your honor. I wasna born in this parish, but I'm maist a native for a' that," "You came here when you were a child, I suppose you mean," said the sheriff. "Nc-, sir; I'm just here' about sax year syne. I just weighed eight stone, an' I'm , , seventeen stane noo, sae ye see that about . nine stane o' me belongs to this parish, and the ither eight comes frae Camlachie." THE BUSY GIRL. " Name the day," sighed the fond lover. § '■r. He had stolen the opportunity to proposa/ by availing himself of an artistic piano recital at the regular weekly meeting of the Bach- ; Gounod cult, of which she was a prominent member. \* " I wish I could," she whispered; " but my Mondays are taken by the Ladies' Literarv ' Association, my Tuesdays by the sewing and ' slandering social, my Wednesdays by the , higher thought coterie, my Thursdays Dy the Bach-Gounods, my Fridays bv the Browning r researchers, my Saturdays by the Charitable Visitors, and my Sundays by the Heathen' Helpers. My evenings are all booked for a long time ahead because of lectures, essay--j readings, and various intermittent clubs. I wish I could find an open date, but you see , now it is." .■'..' ■ , , J ■■:■■>■:':" "Couldn't you "—the lover's voice trembled with the rashness of his suggestion--." couldn't you resign from one of the clubs and trust me to take its place?" . >-y'. : ; "Mercy, no!" she rippled;' "but I'll tell you what we might do.-Wait until the next.,. leap-year, and I will marry you the evening I of the twenty-ninth of February."—