SHORT STORIES.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20650, 23 August 1930, Page 8 (Supplement)

SHORT STORIES.

LOOKING AT THE STARS, Little Tommy was staring out of the bedroom window at the stars. " Mummy," ho said, wonderingly, " what are the stars for?" His mother paused in the act of preparing the boy's bed. " Why, Tommy," she replied, " each star is a world like ours." " That's funn/f," returned the boy. " 1 always thought the stars wero little holes in the sky that let the rain through." MR. JONES AND HIS NOSE. The flower show had been a groat success, and a few evenings later Mr. Jones, who had performed the opening ceremony, was reading the local report of it to his wife. Presently he stopped and, snatching up his stick, rushed from tho room. Amazed, his wife picked up the paper and read: "As Mr. Jones mounted tho stage, all eyes wero fixed on the largo red noso ho displayed. Only years of patient cultivation could have produced an object of such brillianco." SEEING " PINK RATS." A certain Scot used to send for his parson every time he became very drunk and " saw things." Tho parson became tired of theso disagreeable visits and determined to end them. Tho next time ho was called out tho patient was lying in bed murmuring: "'Eh, meenistor, it's a terrible thing to be lyiu' hero seein' all these pink rats creepin' about on tho wall." " John," said the parson severely, '"it's not a sky pilot you need, it's a Skyo terrier." A SERMON ON THRIFT. " What did you think of my sermon, Donald?" asked tho minister, coming out of the church.

" I thoclit yon was a powerful discoorso on thrift yo preached," replied Donald. " I am very glad, Donald, that you were able to profit by it, very proud indeed." "Aye, I did that. Why, mon, I would ha' dinged ma saxpence into tlio plate without a tliocht if it hadna been for you providential words—they saved ino fourponce thero and then." THE LAST POCKET. " Rabin," said Mr. Moscovitz to his friend, " I think I have lost a pocket-book with two hundrod pounds in it." " Have you looked for it ?" said Mr. Rabin. " Certainly I have looked," said Mr. Moscovitz, " I have looked in all my coat pockets, in all my vest pockets, in my front trousers pockets, and in one of my hip pockets—and it ain't there." " Why don't you look in the other hippocket?" asked Mr. Rabin. " Because," said Mr. Moscovitz, " that's the las't pocket I got." " Veil, vofc of it ?" " Because, Rabin, if I look in that pocket and still it ain't there, then I drop dead." JUDGE AND CONSTABLE. A good story is told by Mr. Evelyn Graham in his recent book, " Fifty Years of Famous Judges," concerning Mr. Justice Grantham. " While on circuit onco he returned to the house, where ha was staying, rather late, and as he was wearing a cap, he was not recognised by the constable on duty outside, who seemingly mistook him for one of the servants. " ' Has the old blighter gono to bed yet V inquired the policeman of the who replied that he thought lie had no?. "A short while later the judge opened his bedroom window and put out his head. " ' Officer,' he called down to the street below, ' the old blighter is just going to bed now.' " A GOOD CASE. "You've got the best case I ever heard," said the lawyer to his client. " You can't help winning. I shall be pleased to assist you in the matter." " Thanks," said the prospective client. Then, grabbing his hat, he made for the door. " Where are you going ? " exclaimed the astonished lawyer. " I'm going to settle this case out of court." " But, why waste money ? " urged the lawyer. " I've told you that's one of the best cases I ever heard." " Maybe it is," said the client, " but not for me. I told you the other fellow's story.'THE SWISS CHEESE. Little Johnny arrived home late one afternoon with his new clothes full of holes. " Johnny." screamed his mother, " what ever's happened? You have ruined your new suit." The boy looked very sheepish, but he did not reply.- " What have you been doing ?" asked his mother. " Playing at grocer's shop with Ronny and Bertie," said the child. " But how did you come to get your suit full of holes?" she exclaimed. " Well," explained Johnny, "we all had to be something in the shop." " What has that to do with it ?" interrupted the angry parent. " I was the Swiss cheese," Johnny replied meekly. THE EXPLANATION. A well-known violinist found himself one day in a drab East London square. Going slowly round it on the pavement was a man apparently trying to play a fiddle. Greatly to the intruder's surprise, money wrapped in paper was flung down to him from nearly every window.

The next day the violinist went to the same place. After playing classical music for some time and not getting a copper ho turned to go. An old woman standing at a doorway gave him a penny for his trouble. " How is it," ho asked her, " that I get nothing when I play good music, and yesterday a man who made vilo sounds with his fiddle got money showered upon him ?" " Oh, him," she said, "ho ain't no fiddler; he's tho local bookie." GOOD GOLF STORY. Miss Glcnna Collett, tho American golf player, is responsible for an amusing story concerning a man who, laden with clubs, was making his way through a sidestreet in a certain remote village when ho found his way barred by a local lady of determined aspect. " You be late," she said sternly; " but you be spruce enough." Rural familiarity thought tho golfer; so ho replied pleasantly enough that ho thought ho would be in lime for one round. "Ah, but there be a conplo," answered the lady; "the parlour and tho kitchen." " Parlour and kitchen ?" gasped tho astonishod man. " Ay!" was tho reply. "'SBain't you come to sweep tho chimneys V