SHORT STORIES.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LIX, Issue 18281, 23 December 1922, Page 5 (Supplement)

SHORT STORIES.

HEN-PECKED.

Two clubmen were discussing the relativo merits of their wives, when one of them remarked : My wife looks after me, I can assure you. Why, she takes off ray boots for me m the evening." '' Ah ! when you come homo from the dub! 'y suggested the other. "No—when I want to go there!" HE WAS RIGHT. An English tourist was recently spending Ins holidays in Scotland, when ho met n very old native. In tho course of conversation the tourist, asked the native how old ho was. " I am one hundred," said the old man. '" I rather doubt you will not see another hundred," said tho tourist. " Aa. dinna, ken, man," said the old man. " Aa'm stronger the noo thai when I started tho first hundred." AIR THRILLS. An air pilot took up a man and his wife for £3 on condition that tliev paid him £1 every time he made them'shout. He performed some dizzying stunts, but not a sound came from'the passengers. As he shut off his engine on landing, the pilot, without, turning round, said: "Well, you arc sports. 1 never thought you'd stand it so well." "Yes," answered the man, "but I nearly lost a pound when niv wife fell out." HIS MASTERPIECE. "The last thing you sent in was good," said the editor." " wo all enjoyed reading it very much." " Well, in that case," said the youthful poet, " I take back what I said in the letter I wrote to yon yesterday about my determination never to send you any of my work again.* The editor slowly shook his head. "Don't do that," he murmured. "Why, that Latter is what I referred to!" MISSED HIS AIM. One of the stories that the late James Payn liked to tell wss about what he called an American duel, wherein two • duellists, with one second, met within i doors and drew lots to decide which ; should shoot himself. A was the unlucky man, and without ' a word he retired into the next apart- : ment to carry out tho purpose of selfdestruction. B and the second, both very much moved by the tragedy of the situation, remained in an adjoining room in , listening attitudes. At last the pistol was heard, they ! shuddered with emotion and remorse. when suddenly in rushed the supposed dead man, triumphantly exclaiming. " Missed, by heaven." WHERE THE FAULT LAY. As the Irish police recruit strolled along on his first turn of night duty, loud yells of "Fire!" rent the air. He bolted quickly to the spot, and found a house well alight, with a man half hanging out of an upstairs window. " Help! help!" he yelled. "If I jump, will you catch me?" " £ure, an' Oi will!" replied Paddy readily. | So the man jumped, only to crash to the ground and lie there stunned. When, . a few minutes later, he recovered consciousness, he looked up at the constable reproachfully and murmured feebly: "1 thought you said you would catch me?" " Besiorrah!" replied the Irishman, "Oi . was only waitin' for yez to bounce, an' j Oi'd have had ye?.!" A BLESSED WORD. Like the old lady who talked of "that bkssed word Mesopotamia," simple people often find sustenance in a polysyllable | seen in the newspapers, which they use in a sense that suits their own purpose. , "Botulism" is the latest favourite, and it j was pleasantly misapplied in the following j dialogue overheard in the North End j Road, London, a most inclusive thorough- j fare:— I First Voice: "Poor 010 Jims gone] West." ! Second Voice: "What did 'e die of?", First Voice: "Too much crookin' of his j elbow—what rcy calls bottle-ism, li s"pose." t t | Second Voice: "I don't, wonder—'o'd a gift that way. "ad poor ole Jim."

EABL WHO SNORED. The Karl of Aberdeen has a great fund of humour, and tells the following story of himself:- — Fie left London at midnight in a sleeping ear for the North. In the morning, when ho was awakened, he saw a stranger opposite him. "Kxcubo me," said the stranger, "may I ask if you are rich?" Somewhat surprised, his lordship replied that he was tolerably well-to-do. " May I aslc," continued the stranger, " how rich you are ?" "Well, if it will do vou any good to know," was the reply, "I suppose I have seveial hundred thousand pounds."

" Well," went on the Rtra»>ster, " If I were as rich as you. and snored as loudly as you, I should take a whole car, so as not to interrupt the sleep of others."

CUTTING DOWN THE PLAY. A story is fold of IT. J. Byron's wretchedness when his play "Dearer than Life" was produced. At the end of the second act there was ,a long delay, and the audience grew very impatient. "What in the name of goodness are they doing?" asked a critic of the author. "I don't know," moaned Byron. At this moment the sound of a saw ;.t work behind the curtain could be distinctly heard. tVhat are they doing now, my dear Bvron?" said the critic.

Here the author's keen sense of humour came to tho rescue.

"I think," he said, "they must be cutting out the last act."