SOME GOOD STORIES.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4295, 2 March 1901, Page 7 (Supplement)

SOME GOOD STORIES.

j ALA T, w. i \1 Li’i , i ' wre playing poker on an Atiaui;? liner. The pod we,■. piied rvitii iifvy sovereign;. Tho Jew i.'Micd for r.vo cards.' and one of LiM-m vwa turiiee —l !:e (jiiecn of cliamor.d-. "1 "■■'cn'r ..aiie i.v" iie pretested. "Las "uu mi;.".,' ",'i.o tne dealer. ”x wmi'i A i'M;,'M.’w.M tl.e "I‘H take my tea pe.nnd-' out of tb., r.ool and h ive the gamer' "V"U can leave tne mi.mkm i>ut yon nin.'.-t li avo ye nr a..’ai■ y. ; vm tne reply. Mu lie gave- in and tool; the card. Only uvi; wave befrimr. o’m of whom was tin; Jew. who raised and raised Ins adver.saiy. ' tJnr. my dear icllow, 1 know voiir iiand c..;:Tt ho worth niiKi’i, it isn’tfair," .mid the Christian. "Weii. I’ll see yon," was iho reply. T.-.e Christian laid Mown funr knave-. T!m Mow showed four bnoens. “But tvi'nt on t-urlh —why did von rci'aso tho oneeu, of diamonds A’ asked the loser. The Uew sutiicd vdeasiintly. as iw omplif-d tiie. poel. ’'ihal is ihy l)Usi:n" s," ho i'eV.’iled. T'iiE AiiSMAfT-AnXDLi; .SHOPPEII. Veil,,.', me.rriod. stmlidil-’. visionary, and very ahs.eni-mimlod. im opproachcil t|io yoiing lady c’nc csimtcr a., though walking in sleeu. ■T'loasc : et im; a.".' a sample of your left-hand poe-ktes," vra ; iii -- sururi-’ing ov.ost‘’Bog pardon H’ “Satuplo of loft-hand pockets. 1 ' “JJ-o-g priilon/’ and ah'’ clerk showed how tall and diyniiiod she eculcl be. -'Pcssibiy you want- me to sliow yon some button'holes, needle oyos or invisible perforation.; for embroidery.” •MMo. 1 think not. I recall none of those as on Hie list. I’m acting for my wife, you know. Charming woman, but so unpractical. Thinks that Hie iiouso otuH ho a ttended to, no mai ter what become:; of (he ahcpning. von irave no left-hand pockets A’ ‘‘.Mo pockets of any kind. Possibly you wanted the ripening to tiie poclret or a pump for iuHating the pocket,’’ and tho several clerks who hud gathered around locked at everyth ins hut tho customer. “it might lie. 1 confess that I’??i a iiitle 'uncertain- os to just whatyinv wife did ask mo to get. Como to think of it, 1. have a. ii. Il'oi’Mct ;dl about it; ‘butler, voeetaliios, oysters, sweet peta— J all! hero i* is, ‘sample. Idt-liaud pocket, two yards." ‘ Then fee’ in your lefl-luim! pocket, laughed the clerk, and al! lire other clerks laughed.

Mi" did. Tlipri” was a sample of narrow’ ribbon. Tho combined talent of the clerks matched it, -and. the customer wondered why they all bcam-d so benignly on him.

,\ AIOUMOX MIRACLE.

A good story relating; Io Joseph Smith, the notorious arch-Aiornion, lias recently come to light, and it is exceedingly welcome. if only for the lack that it shows how that rank impostew, hi trying to impose upon credulous people, was imposed upon himself. ITow the great ‘‘prophet” was tricked is told in .something like the following fashion.

A certain, individual, Dan Rico bv name, a man who had considerable circus renown in tho States during the last generation, know Joseph Smith very intimately when tiro latter, surrounded by his'deluded folio,vers, occupied tho Mormon city of Nanvoo.

One day Smith called upon .Rice, and began to speak to him in evident concern. “Dan,” lie said, "£ am sorry to find that the people are becoming exceedingly restless. There is no dioubt whatever that'we must give them a miracle, and that will he bound to settle them. The river is muddy; I want you to go on the quiet and build-a sort of platform, which you must manage to get down to the river and anchor not more than.a foot below tho surface of the water. Then I will go‘down and walk upon the water.” Rico went and fixed tho platform all right, only that about twelve feel from shore ho omitted a couple of planks from the erection. Smith walked tho water in “miraculous” style until he came to tho part of tho platform where the planks were out ; then ho wont down most ignominious!}', and tho “miracle” was smashed to atoms. FEAT OF AN AMATEUR. • “Yes, looking for a saddle horse,” admitted tho warehouseman who was just back from his vacation. “I was raised among hor.-.es, yon might say. I never boast, but I guess that I can ride anything that ever looked through a bridle. Just back from risking an old chum that grew up next door to me. Has a great stock farm. Broke in a threc-year-old colt for him while I was there.” “Any trouble?” “Not a bit. Tied up his front leg and ho fell so as to throw me through a corn crib. Didn’t hurt. Old man came along and said I ought to bo ashamed to cripple a horse in order to ride him, so I let the leg down. I scrambled on and he jumped before I was ready. That time I went through tho top of a peach tree. Never felt it. Next trip mo and the colt went down the road as though there were fireworks in his tail. Ho stopped unexpectedly and I went over a wire fence into a ploughed fielc). I tore my trousers and ripped tho tops of my shoes, but never broke tho skin. I bet there isn’t another 'amateur rider in tho country could do that. My head ploughed through three furrows, but I didn’t mind it any more than a dive into the river.” “Got back on tho celt, I suppose?” “No, my chum said I was a little overweight. so ho put a young fellow on and ho stuck as if he had to. I like .to sea a colt have some sort of a show. The boy tired the critter cut and I insisted on one more mount. You can hot that colt knew his master. He was tame as a sheen. I’d have ridden, him, you know, if he’d broke my neck. New, what I want is something quick and devilish to horse-flesh. I'll tamo him.” SLUM MANNERS. . • At a tea recently given to the street waifs of London, one cf the young ladies who was attending on tho needs of the hungry foasters noticed that one cf the lads was not eating anything, _r-o, going across to whore ho was, she said : “My boy, you are not eating anything. Will you have some more bread-aud-but-ler?” “No,” was the answer she got. So, thinking, to make him remember his" manners, site said : “No, what, my lad?” Then she got another surprise, for this time bis answer was: “No blessed fear: not while there's plum kerko knocking about. I’m just a-werting till that big plertc comes along. Look slippy. Curley, and shove it over hero: I fool peckish.” And ho was. ; ONLY THE PARROT. The peculiar charm of parrots is that when they do mischief it is generally amusing nrhchiof. something that yields : a goed story, probably the cuemist who ; figures in a recent anecdote is even t prouder of his not than ho was before i the pet alienated a customer. i The parrot L large and green, alert ’ to hear, and prompt to -prove that ho remembers. His cage hangs near the telephone, with the result that Polly has boconia quits proficient in “telephone

talk,’’ and iV.rni'hc? much aranscuient tn • Uv/::i; ( i'- who have nine - o stop and iistun. The ether tiny n stylishly-drcisod vountt woman came rushing isitn the- shop and ad-:?d ponni: s;.ou to use the 'phono. The man of dry--; pointed to ,he rear. and sh.j .started -u that direction. The place v..as nether dark, and whmi ska heard apparently talking into the re-: coiner, . o to.tu-rd herself to wait, "Hulloa, Centra!—holloa, iioiloa—ve-p fdve mo fou: - -Uc,ubie-ci.ttht. Yes—hulioaV trio, is that 'i Clu yes; what I- yes; halloa. I sr.y: .no, 1 didn't get that; is That .so ? weli. ggod-byc; ring cii; hallo:;. Central, nainja. nanoa, give inn and so on, and so on. through several repetitious. Them the young woman rose, and advanced with a stalely air to the assistnir ami atked if ho tho-ught "that person’ 1 intended to iho the telephone all day. ■'p/hy, mats only vbo parrot. He —’> , .But tnc shop door laud slammed before lie could :hi, .h ]?is sentence. Till-it TILL- DEATH. '■Jim time lias come lor me (o speak, - ’ no ;.r;cl, ;:ej!ifr over •:o the mantelpiece and leaning Li-, head .Yssvractoaiy against the ec-id, hard marble. "C. lv dear, before we are married, and while there is vet time cn pause, mj - conscience bids me tell vou ah out ray so if. i Jmvn deceived vou.' 1 ;an not the r.oliic-hoariod, unselfish, alibied ami altogether desirable man vou have been led' to holk'i e. I have 'deciiod sou orci) about my aye. Not ouly .mt) X ■ k(J instead oi* ,11. :. 11 ; am a wide-v----qr. I stay out late l at night when I Joel like it. 1 smoko al! over the house, am particular about my n-mids, jind fault all the time, heeler the servants, never so anywhere to oblige any one else, drink more' thru t might <o. swear rpgnlariv, and, in fact, ain a vulgar, disagreeable,' gruk, inhospitable, irritable, inconsiderate, insufferable jiulsancft.” ‘ti-oii me, ’ said the fair creature lie addressed, # repressing with a. conscious look of pride an inward shudder, ‘’you own the house and grounds that you showed r.ic, don’t you ; j ” “I d 0..” “And the beauiii'u 1 Government bonds you asked mo to look at, the hUO shares of i).A.H.,thokuO N.Y.E., tho-100 U.XMVh debentures, and lour acres in t.ic heart of the business district are all vours 1 aren't they t”

“They are, dearest." •‘Then,” said tho undismayed and still radiant _ eroiitvi”.’’! by his side, “ray darling, with nil vour faults, I love von still." GUILTY, XE V nl. tTI 1E LE id H. This was one of Daniel O’CounelTs stories. Some years ago, while sit-tending tho (‘leiimbl Af-sixos, .1 witnessed a. trial widen I shall never forgot. A wretched man was charged with tho murder of his neighbour. _ Tho evidence was running strong against the prisoner. In fact it was tho strongest case of circumstantial evidence I bu-vo ever mot with.

As a. mav or'of form—for of his guilt tlioro was no doubt—tho prisoner was called on for his defence, ide called to tho amtizomcat of the whole court—the murdered man. And tho murdered man enmo forward.

Tho case was clear; tho prisoner was innocent. Tho Judge told tho jury it war. unnecessary to charge them.' Yet they requested permission to retire. They returned to court in about two hours, when tho foreman, with a long face handed in a verdict of guilty! Every ono was astonished. “Good God!” cried tho Judge, “of what is ho guilty ? Not of murder, surely ?” “No, my Lord,” replied tho foreman, “but if ho didn’t murder tho, man, shure lie stole me gray mare throe years ago.” THE RULING PASSION. Mr Brown was a very rich merchant but was extremely' superstitious. He had three intimate friends, Mr Eager, a Protestant; Mr .Savage, a Catholic; and Mr Goldsmith, a Jew. One day Mr Brown 'became very ill and summoned bis three friends to his bedside. Ho said to them, “I have always been afraid to go into tho other world without money, so knowing that you three aro such good friends that .you will obey my dying request, I shall exact from you a promise that each of you will put £IOO in my coffin' before it is closed. In return, I shall leave my entire, fortune to be divided between you three.” •All eagerly promised to entry out his instructions.

Shortly afterwards -he died. Mr Eager, the Protestant, came, and according to his promise put £IOO in the coffin, After ho left Mr Savage, rite Catholic, came and-put in another £IOO., Lastly came Mr Goldsmith, the Jew. Just as he was about to put in the £IOO, a thought struck him. ; Ho drew out the £2OO which .had boon, previously put in the coffin,..placed it. in his pocKei and, writing cut! a cheque for £3OO, payable to Mr Brown, ■ against him (Goldsmith’s) account in a certain bank, but it beside tho dead body of his friend and wont on his way rejoicing. Cf V SERE ACHED, HIMSELF. This is a true story; it comes from Cornwall. A gentleman of,considerable property made his will in favour of a clergyman who was his most intimate friend, and committed it, unknown to the rest of his family, to. tho care cf vho_ divine. However, not. long before ho died, having changed his mind with regard to the disposal of - his' effects, he . made another will wherein lie left the clergyman only £SOO, and tho rest of his fortune to his nephew.

Soon-after-th® old gentleman’s death his nephew’,- rummaging over his drawers, hanpsned to find this last will, and perceiving the legacy of £SOO in it for the clergyman,■ without any hesitation or scruples of conscience, put it in the fire, and took possession of the whole estate, in 'consequence of having supposed that his uncle had died intestate.

.The clergyman coming to town soon after, and inquiring into the circumstances of his old ,friend’s death, asiced if. he had made any will before he died, and being answered, in the negative, vorv coolly piTt his hand into his pocket, and pulled out the termer will, winch had (icon committed to his care, whciemtne undo bequeathed to him his whole fortune, amounting to several thousand pounds, excepting a- legacy of „obd to his nephew, •

A clergymen of the Church, of England, whose reputation as a pulpit orator for a period attracted ail Lonc.cn, and woo then as .suddenly disappeared from the firmament, Ims. just passed a-wav in the person of Dr Alfred Miliiauis Momcrio. Son cf a Congregational pastor, he was intended tor the Di-> .'••entin.T ministry, and hud a brilliant University career at Edinburgh and CamhrhUc. hut renounced Nonconformit.* for the Episcopal lorm cf worship, and was ordained by Dr Fraser. Bishop of Tviiuicho= f ei*. ±lis fame in the puipic wus almost entirely restricted to the

einht voniV' vohon lie v.ws morning propeller lit rlie I 1 ouudiinrc M-OOjivpl. from lob-, till ISPI, since v.hich time he bad not hole, aa iimuro’ueuey. but had been Dreschiajj v.ith tlic consent of the Bishop of Londoj?. at tbs Postman Poems, Baker street.