SOME GOOD STORIES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1511, 14 February 1901, Page 38

SOME GOOD STORIES.

A STORY OF MARK TWAIN

‘‘About eight .years aoro/' writes “Mark ■ IwaiK 5 ’ in. the “IS! ew \ oil J©iimal,” “I was coming; up .in a. .can -of th© elevated road. Very. few people wer® in, and on the opposite side sat a man about fifty years old, with, a most winning face. I took him. from his dress to be a master mechanic, a man who had a vocation. He had with him a, very little child of about four or fwo ; - yeare. I was watching the affection which existed between the tiro. I judged he was the grandfather, perhaps. It :was really a pretty child, and' I was admiring heap .As soon as he ©aw I was admiring, her-he. began to notice me. I eo-ul-I see his admiration of •mo..in his eye,* and I did what anyone else, would do—admired the child 'four times as much-, knowing I would get ■four times as muck of his admiration. Things, went on very pleasantly. I was staking my way into' his "heart. By and bye, when he almost reached the station . where he was "to get off', he got up, crossed ever, and h© said': ‘Now. I .tot going to- say soaietniiig to you which ■ I hop© you wLLL regard as a compliment.' and then he went on to say: T have never seen. Mark Twain, but I have seen a portrait of him, and any friend of mine will tell you that when I have once seen, a portrait of a man I place it in .my eye and store it away .in my memory/' and I tell you now that you look enough Uker Mark Twain to be his brother. Now,’ he said, '1 hope you take this as a compliment.' ‘Certainlyl said, T take it as more than a compliment. lies,' 11 saw, 'tiris is the pronciest moment of ntjC Life to be taken for Mark Twain, for most men are always wfehingj to- look like some great mao, General Grant,'. George* Washington, or like some archbishop -cr other, but all. my life I have wished to* look like- Mark Twain., Yes,’ £ sold, T have- wished, to look like that synome ‘ that symbol of all virtue and all purity, whom you have just described. 0 - I appreciate it.’ He said, ‘Yes, you are a very good imitation, but when I oothe* to look closer you are probably not that man,’ I said, Y will be* frank with you. In iny desire' to look like that excellent "character I have dressed for the character; I have been playing a part.’ lie said, ‘That is all flight, .that is all right; you lock very well on the outside*, bat when it comes to the inside you are* not in. it with the original.’ ”

HE DIDN'T KNOW CRICKET

An American, ivaper tells how a roati from fck© West went to see & crieket match. ‘‘They don’t play cricket in.'Hooptown, Neb. Wcii, sir, it’s (ho most remarkable game. There was' a big field roped in like a corral, and in the middle of it were two bunches of sticks stuck in the ground. They .were about as far from here as across the. street apart, and made to fall down when anything’* touched them. People could have taken a handful of nails and made them stronger, but maybo they knew why they wanted them that- way. I 'didn’t. " f asked a man ■ in' short -pants what they were. for. ‘That’s a wicket, ’■ he says. ‘ Vvicked what ?’ says I. Then he looked scornful, and walked away. Well, two men in trotting harness and 'interference pads and kneestraps and driviag-gl&ves stood up in front of the wicked things with pieces c i board in their- hands. And a. chap in short sleeves took a run half-way across the field, tied himself in a knot, letloose, and threw a ball. Say! the way he threw reminded me of' the way my' wife fires stove-wocid at the calf . when it gets in the garden. 1 told a man so, and he says, ‘That is what is called bowling,’ _ Tire- man thrown at whacked the ball sideways, ran to the next wicked thing, and changed places with the other man. They did that once or twice, and sometimes- they ran and sometimes they didn’t.. Whenever they ran the people sitting round the ropes clapped hands and cheered. Pretty soon somebody calls out f Overs and a lot of - men in white suits walked round a bit. Then the man. in short sleeves threw the ball, hit the wicked thing, and knocked it all to pieces. The people cheered again, and a man next to me said something about a clean bowl. I didn’t see anything that looked like a bowl, but I didn’t let on. There were a couple of men on the field in linen dusters. They looked like they might be Kansas cattlemen, so I thought I would go out and pass the time of day with them. I crawled under the ropes, and a policeman came and ran me back to the side. When. I was explaining how it was the men in the field quit playing, and went into a house all covered with flags. I bad couple of apples in my grip, and X ate one and offered the other to the girl with the man that told me about the bowl. She got all red in the face, and. the man began to laugh, end the girl says, ‘Do- you suppose anyone will seep If you toll I’ll never speak to- you.’ With that she took the apple and said thanks so sweetly that I wished I had. a whole- bushel there to give her. "Wo 11, I hung around the field

all day, seeing everything and understanding nothing. I had a good time enough, but, honestly, Td rather watch a game of marbles.”

SEEING VIENNA

A conductor cf tours narrates the following experience. He was passing through Vienna with his party, and, as there was but a short interval between the arrival of the train, and the departure -of the next express for London, it became a question as to how much of the city could’ be seen. Whilst he was considering the subject one lady in the company rushed up to him with her baby in her arms. “Oh, Mr Muller/' said she, “I. am sure you will not mind holding: my child for a few moments while I do some shopping and see something of the'plaee !” Before the unhappy xnan could* utter a word of protest he was left- on the platform with the child in his arms . At l first the baby looked smilingly up at him, but then it began to cry at the top of its voice. The more Mr Muller soothed it the more it cried, until presently lie found himself surrounded by a* crowd of reproachful ladies, who wanted to know what he meant by being so cruel to the poor child. Gladly would he have transferred the unwelcome little bundle to them, but- they, too, were going shopping and would have none of it. Meanwhile his moments for arranging the journey were rapidly passing, and when the truant mother arrived he was 'almost wild with impatience an danxiety. He made a rush in her direction, but before he reached her she was assuring him- with the utmost- sweetness — 1 r ‘Vienna is really a most interesting placei”"’ “Madame,” he began wildly, “your baby- ” “Oh. don't- mention it, Mr Muller! I do hope she has been good. And if you think there is time to spare, I saw such a beautiful silk Mouse in a shop just cut-sid© the station —Til be back in a few minutes!” Before he could protest- she had vanished again, to reappear presently with a . beaming smile on her face and a< parcel in.her hand. The hungry conductor had only thirty minutes in which to eat his luncheon and arrange for the railway journey; but the well-satisfied lady had seen Vienna.

A MUTUAL- SURPRISE

In “Sketches of Life in the Golden State,” Colonel Albert S. Evans tells an amusing anecdote of an ambitious hunter who met his first grizzly bear — "in procession. The incident occurred in. the woods near the site of the present town of Monterey. The hunter saldown to rest in the shade of a tree, and unwittingly went to sleep. When he woke it vv as near sunset, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes, and contemplating a return to his hotel, several miles distant. Just then a rustling and crackling noise from a clump of chaparral about a hundred yards away attracted his attention. Out walked a grizzly bear, a monarch of his kind. He yawned, licked his paws, and then advanced towards the tree where our hunter sat,

but evidently was unconscious of his presence. His grizzly majesty had proc ceeded about twenty paces, when a female bear followed him, and in an instant later a third grizzly followed her at a slow, shambling pace. The hunter sat spellbound with terror as the procession came* towards him, until the forward grizzly was within, thirty yards. Then, scarcely realising wha : t he did, he sprang to his feet, and uttered a frenzied yell —yell upon yell! The effect was magical. The foremost bear sprang into the air, turned sharply about, knocked the female down, rolled over her, gathered himself up, and bolted “like forty cartloads of rock going down a chute,” straight for the chaparral again, the other two beaus close a-tTiis heels, and never turning to see what had frightened them. The hunter, seeing his enemy retreating, sprang to his feet and tied at top speed for the’ hotel, leaving hat and gun behind. The truth of his wild and startling tale was proved the next day by the numerous bear-tracks of different sizes found in the marshy ground near by. But the three bears had gone off beyond pursuit.

ENGLISH VILLAGE LIFE

The smart Yankee had returned to his own- select circle in Chicago, and was recounting his experiences in Europe. “Say, tell us,” said a friend, “air the English so thunderin’ slow and dull, after all?’ f Waal,’ replied the traveller, ‘I reckon so. I went right down into the heart of England to answer that vurry question for myself. We all got vur-ry friendly, of course, in the bar parlour of the little village ‘pub.’—yes, it’s ‘pub’ they call it in England. There was’ the boss of the ‘pub’ himself, the local butcher, the local everything, and there wuss myself. I just listened and smoked and -sipped my glass of four-ale. All the rest smoked and sipped their four-ale. I can’t say there was much to listen to.. The talk ran like this : Villager: I ’ear as Ted Robinson got the sack last week. Pause. Other Villager (deliberately puffing smoke from his pipe) —Ted /Robinson ?

Villager—Yuss, I ’ear so. Ted Robinson got the sack las’ week. [Pause again. Other Villager (after more smoke) — Got the sack, eh!

Villager; Yuss, I ’ear as ’o\v he did. [Longer pause. Other Villager: Las" week was it as he got the sack? Villager—Yuss. I ’ear as *ow it was las’ week. [Long, long pause. Other Villager—l 'eard that a Friday.

“And." added the smart Yankee narrator, “not- a soul among 'em smiled! It was their regular mental diet. Oh, yes, smart men the English are —no mistake about that."

THE WAYS OF THE WAR OFFICE.

It will not be Sir Evelyn Wood’s fault if there is any red tape at the War Office while he is in charge. He has had an example of Pall Mall methods which he will probably remember when he enters on his brief regime there this week. When Sir Evelyn was a captain in the 17th Lancers he devised an improved cavalry saddle, and sent it, with an accompanying letter, to the War Office for inspection. The letter and parcel were politely acknowledged at the time, and'xlie matter rested —for nearly twenty years. Then, when Sir Evelyn was Quartermaster General of the Forces, he came by chance across a parcel addressed in bis own handwriting to the War Office. It was unopened, and on cutting tlie string be found his saddle.

A COLD WEATHER JOKE

A business man came down to his office on a winter morning when it was bitterly cold. “Whew, how cold it is!” he saiti to one of the clerks. ’ “Just shut that safe, if you please.” The clerk obeyed with a puzzled look. Then, when he could restrain his curiosity no longer, he asked: “Excuse me, sir, but why did you t ell me to shut the safe? '

“Why/’ replied his employer with a sly chuckle, there are a good many drafts in that safe.”

A REASON FOR NOT MARRYING.

Pretty Teacher (severely) “Did your mother write this excuse ?” Bad Boy : “Yes’m.” Pretty Teacher: Humph! It loons very much like one of your scrawls.”

Bad Boy: “Mamma wrote it;,, but. please, ma'am, she had sister Jennie m one arm crying with a bumped head, and brother Willie in the other with a cut finger, and a lot of sewing on her lay, and she was rocking tlie cradle with her knees, and. she had to write with her tees.”

Pretty Teacher (in the evening) : “I am very sorry, Mr Poorchap, but I have changed my mind; I shall never marry.

SINGING TO THE CAMEL

Jehu who wallops his horse to make it go when the poor beast is dead tired might do well to take a hint from the Arabs of the desert.

They use camels much as other folks use trains or ships. In fact, the camel has often been called the ship of the desert.

The camel has a very queer temper, which needs to he studied. When, therefore, the Arabian driver wants ins camel to go faster he doesn’t- begin to “leather” it. He finds it better to sing to it, and the simple tunes cheer the jaded creature so much that it actually quickens its pace at least onefourth .

First one driver in the caravan sings a verse, and then the others join in the chorus. Some travellers have said that they have- asked the drivers to sing not only to increase their progress, but also because the melodies were so sweet and simple that they were worth listening to on their own account.

THE MAN FROM THE MINT-

“Let me have a cigar,” is one way he starts to work it upon a victim. ' “A good cigar.” The tobacconist hands out a bunch c ? perfectos for the joker to make his ©election from.

In payment the joker pulls out from his right hand trousers pocket fifteen or twenty silver coins of various denominations, all of them evidently fresh from the die. Passing over one of them he smiles knowingly. “Pretty fair money to be turned out by a feliovv like me,” is the remark lie sends along with the smile. “Couldn’t do better yourself. I’ll bet.” Jf the victim uibbl es at the bait, as about nine out of ten do, he examines the coin closely, and sends back at the jocker a smile as knowing as the other had put on.’ “Made it yourself.” lie exclaims. “Yos, it’s a pretty fair sort of coin for you to make. But you didn’t make it.”

Oh, didn’t I? Of course, I did, and

ail of these here in my po«ket, too. What's more I’ll bet you* cigars for the company I did.” The bet is taken pretty quickly as a rule, and then vip? joker grins as ho produces from his card-case a bit of engraved pasteboard, showing that he is connected with the Royal Mint in a capacity which actually enables/J?im to make the money he e a rides.

A NEW BOILER

Mr Frankfort Moore. in an interview, says : lan Maclaren told me the other day of a delightful conversation he recently heard at a suburban dinnertable. There was a considerable company present, and after a number of long, deadly pauses—which in themselves would be impossible in society—a lady broke the stillness with r T and John have been married 25 years today.” The people looked at her and said, solemnly, “Ah, really!” Then another pause, and they looked; at her to continue the topic she had so daringly „started. She was quite equal to the occasion, and, gazing round with an air of placid pride, she said, “Yes, 25 years ; and we've got a now boiler in the kitchen.''

“HEAVEN ON EARTH

The late Colonel Ingersoll was riding in a street ear one day when the Rev De Witt Talmage got in, and they presently fell into an argument. Finally Ingersoll said—“ Then you would like to live in a place, Brother Talmage where everyone had to be good by law’?” Certainly,” said Talmage. “You would like to live where* everyone had to go to church regularly every Sunday? ' “Yes;, that would suit me.” '“Where no man could get a drink, and where swearing was not permitted?” “Yes, that's the place, for me.” “And where every man would have to keep regular hours?” “That would be Heaven on...earth/’ said Talmage, smiling, ami striking his knee with Ms open palm. '‘Well,” said Bob, looking over his glasses, “you’d bettergo to Sing Sing Prison. That’s the way they do there.”