SOME GOOD STORIES

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4407, 13 July 1901, Page 4 (Supplement)

SOME GOOD STORIES

TRUE STORY OF A LITTLE GIRL.

A popular Unitarian minister, living not a hundred miles from Brighton, tells rather a good story at his own expense. While spending his summer vacation at a village in the Lake district, ono of his greatest friends was a fellow boarder, a little girl about eight years old. The two were constant companions, and the child daily accompanied the clergyman on his excursions in tho neighbourhood. Ono evening the little girl remarked to her fellow diners : “I like going out with Mr Dodson.” “Why?” queried a listener, hoping to draw the child out. “Because he has no morals," was the startling reply. When the bystanders had recovered their equanimity, they instituted au investigation, the upshot of which was the discovery that the curlj’-haired maiden possessed an insatiable craving for stories. This desiiya was frequently gratified by Mr Dodson, but unlike tho anecdotes of the -child’s mother, the minister’s tales were never pointed with a moral for the youngster’s government. ORIENTAL HAGGLING. In Smyrna, Turkey,' and Egypt the bargaining language is about the same. “What you give, lady?" “I won’t give anything! I don’t want it! What! Do you think I would carry that back to America?” “But you take hold of him. You feel him silk. I think you want to buy. Ver’ cheap. Only £4.” “Four pounds!” I say in French. ‘'Oh, you don’t want to sell. You want to keep it! And at that price you will keep it.” “Keep it!” in a shrill scream. “Not want to sell? Mo? I hero to sell! I sell you everything you see! I sell you the shop!” More, wheedlingly—“You give me 40 francs ?" “No," in English again. “I’ll give you 2d015.” “America! Liberty!” he cried, having cunningly established my nationality, and flattering my country with Oriental guile. “How much you give for him ? Last price, now. Six dollars?” . „ . We haggle over “last prices tor a quarter of an hour more, and after two cups of coffee amicably taken together, and soma general conversation, I buy the thing for 3dols—“Exchange.” QUENCHING HIS THIRST. A groom at a certain mansion pear Barnsley sold some property that he had had left him for £BOO. There was employed at the same place a farm-bauitf, a great and clever person in his own estimation, who made it a rule to snub and try to ridicule the groom, and make him look as small as possible on every occasion they met at the village hosteTne groom was returning from his lawyer’s with notes to the value of £BOO in his pocket, and on calling at the "pub.” found Mr Bailiff there, as usual, doing all the talking, and drimdug gin-and-water, a beverage of which he 'was too fond. On entering, the groom said lie didn t wish to disturb the company, but he had just had a slice of good luck, would they drink up and have one with him ? “Rooh, pooh! Bosh!" exclaimed the bailiff. , , They all, with the exception of Mr Bailiff, did as requested. . The groom, to the bailiff s astonishment, paid with a £lO-note, adding that he had more money than any man in the room, and, to 'show ho had no illfeeling against Mr Bailiff, he offered to treat him with gin-and-water for the rest of the evening, on condition that he gave him sixpence. The bailiff paid, thinking what a glorious fuddle he was going to have. The groom ordered the landlord to bring in a bucket of water and sixpennyworth of gin, and when supplied, hp astonished the company by emptying the spirit into the bucket, ana saying to the bailiff: • “There, you can go on for an hour or two. now.” A CHARMING BIRD STORY. A charming story is told of an incident connected With the great fire in Chicago. A family living near the lake shore had a large number of pet birds. They had built an aviary, » long, narrow room with glass windows reaching from eeiiing to floor. Passers-by often stop, ped before the house to watch the pretty creatures fluttering abput, to hear their songs, of gee them bathe. One afternoon, in th e week of the fire, a cloud of fluttering wings moved wearily up the street. Presently these birds, most of them canaries, caught Sight of the aviary with its happy denizens. Straight towards the window they flew, some pf them against the glass itself. . The ladies of the house were quick to tak a in the situation. ’They hurriedly shut their pwn birds into a compartment of the aviary, and then threw the windows wide open, retiring from sight that the spent travellers might feel free to enter, After a'few minutes, first one and then another flew inside, where they settled down, panting, grateful for the rest and safety- It was soma time before they attempted to eat or bathe, After the strangers had eaten of the bird-seed and rested, th e other birds were allowed tp enter, and it was delightful to hear the chorus of songs W'Tiich arose when the home birds and the strangers met. QUEER THINGS ABOUT YOUR WATCH. will wager,” said a watchmaker to a customer the other day, “that you cannot correctly put down th© numerals on the dial plat© of your watch,” “Done!” said the other. And he wrote down I, 11, HI, IY “Wrong,” interrupted the watchmaker- .“ How wrong?” “Pull out your watch and look at the figure fopr.” Sure enough tho figure was IHI nrt IV. “Are all clocks and watches made that way? 1 ’ asked the eustpmer, as he put his watch back in his fob. “All that have Roman figures on their dial,” “Why?”

'“Weil, there is a tradition which accounts for the custom. The first clock that resembles the ones now in use was made hy a famous French jeweller named Henry Tick, in J§7o, He made a present pf it to King Charles V-, surnamed tjie Wise. Now Charles was wise in many ways, hut he did not know everything, though having a reputation to sustain ha pretended to omniscience. When Vick Drought him the clock he examined the works very attentively, seeking a flaw somewhere. ‘Yes,’ he said, at last, ‘the clock works very well, hnt yon have got the figures on the dial wrong,' ‘Surely not, your Majesty,’ demurred the jeweller. ‘Yes, that four should be four ones.’ ‘You are wrong, your Majesty.’ ‘I am never wrong,’ plundered the Ktng. ‘Take it

away and correct tho mistake.\ ick did as commanded. The fashion was followed by others. And so to this day we nave 1111 instead of IV.”

“But suppose my had Arabic and not Roman numerals ri’ - T took that chance, of course, because the larger proportion of watches have the Roman numerals. But even then I’d have had you in all probability. For there is another peculiarity about the figures which is almost universal iii watches. But I will show you. Go on writing the rest of the figures.” So the customer continued and wrote down V, VI ■'Wrong again,” interrupted the watchmaker. “But. ” “Pull out your watch and see,” calmly retorted the other. Once more the watch dial was exposed to view. There was no six on it. The space where it should have been was occupied by the second hand. “The second hand,” continued the Jewel!**, “is to be found in exactly that place is almost every watch that is made. Whether your dial was registered in Arabic or Roman numerals, there would be no six on it. It is only on a few of a very cheap sort of watches that tho second hand is omitted, and the 6, or the VI., stands revealed.” A FIRE BRIGADE STORY. A fire brigade olscer tells the following story as the most thrilling of his experiences. I was stationed in charge of a fire escape at a hospital (he says), and a comrade had his escape at a church near by.

On one occasion we had a “call” at the same time. My comrade got to the fire first, and mounted his ladder. lie ‘.got in at the first floor window, hut did not remain inside very long. Hp came out Just as I was» going up and said nothing, but looked so queer I knew there was something wrung. . Well, when 1 got into' the rom, which was full of smoke, the first thing I saw was the head’of a negro lying on the ground, and the body Lying a yard or so away. I turned quite faint; but this was not all. A little further away I saw a woman standing with a knife ia her hand over a cot. This was enough. I followed the example of my mate, dashed through the window, and shot down the ladder.

“Hang it!” exclaimed my companion, “you’re as great an idiot as I /-in.’' “What do you mean ?” said I. “Look up there.”

I did and saw on the front of the house a big board bearing the words, < r H :’s Celebrated Waxworks Show. We had got into the room of horrors! The negro and the murderess were only wax.