Editor's Wallet.

Otago Witness, Issue 1584, 1 April 1882, Page 28

Editor's Wallet.

A New Brand.

A tall, lame negro has been in the habit for a year past of calling at a Michigan-avenue grocery and begging a few potatoes, a bit of codfish, or anything else likely to be given him. The other day the grocer took a flour-sack and made up a mixture of sand, meal,and flour, and when the negro came around he was almost pulverised to hear the grocer say : ' Now, Sam, if you won't come here again for three months you can shoulder that sack and take it home.' >

Am you in airnest, boss ? ' * Yes, I mean what I say.' ' Wall, I reckon I'd better cotch on to dat chance, an' may de Lawd bresa you fur a hun'red y'ars to come ! ' He shouldered the sack and walked off, and was not seen again for three days. Then ha entered the store with the remark : ' ' Say, boss, I didn't mean to come back, only I want to ax a queshun.' 1 Go ahead.'

• It's about dat flour you gin me. ■ De oh woman an' me doan' take de same view of it. I hold dat it am a new way of grindin' up wheat, an' she says it am a new process fur usin' up gravel bankß. Kin you frow any light on de subjick?' 'It is a new brand of my own,' replied the grocer. The wheat was raised on sandy soil. Can you recommend it?' ' N— not 'zactly, sah, but if you could change wid me fur a peck of beans raised on a hill-side, an' put de 010 trees an' stumps an' stones in one bag an' de beans in anoder, it would save aheap of argyment in de family ! '—Detroit Free Press.

Spoopondyke's Picture-Hanging.

* Well, my dear,' says MrSpoopenkyke,with a nail in his mouth, and balancing himself waveringly ona dining-room chair, • all you've fot to do now is to get your picture ready, and '11 show you how to hang the thing.' ' It's awful sweet of you, pet,' said Mrs Spoopendyke, alternately rubbing the frame of a very hectic chromo and sucking the thumb she had been hammering for the last twenty minutes. ' It's awful sweet and thoughtful of you, dear, to offer your assistance at such a time, for I do believe I never would have got a nail driven in that stupid wall.' 'Of course you wouldn't, my dear J ' laughed Mr Spoopendyke. 'Who ever saw a woman that could drive a nail ? You couldn't drive a galvanized carpet-tack in a 'levon pound bladder of putty. And, speaking of driving nails, I'd like to know if you're ever going to hand up that hammer, or meat-pounder, or whatever you've been using. Think I can drive nails with my elbow V * It's the stove-hook, love,' said Mrs Spoopendyke, meekly, handing him a mysteriouslooking implement, with a wooden handle at one end and the underjaw of a shoemaker's plyers at the other. ' Oh, it's a stove-hook, is it?' said Mr Spoopendyke, regarding the weapon with a sinister expression. ' Now, if you'd handed me up a dog-iron, or a pair of steelyards, I'd have been rte at home ; but a stove-hook ! Really, my r, I'd rather undertake to drive a nail with a scythe-handle.' ' But the wall's so soft and lovely, dear, it really drives them beautifully— if they would only stick,' said Mrs Spoopendyke, reassuringly. T Only stick!' said Mr Spoopendyke, contemptuously ; ' now, I'll bet that you never wot tho mucilage on a single nail before you started. That's why they didn't atick for you —ouch ! sufferin' Moses [ Aro you going to stand serenely by and see me boat my knuckles into a shapeless pulp with this confounded marlingspike f 'Poor dear !' said Mrs Spoopendyke, consolingly. ' You do act' so impatient— and at the first trial, too. Maybe it struck somethinghard in the plaster. Try another place— that's the way I managed that.' ' Oh, yes,' said Mr Spoopendyke ; * that's the way you managed it I and you have punched enough holes up here to play cribbage on. Will you gimme another nail? Don't you see I'veknocked this one flat, and can't unpry it up again?'

' Can't unpry it up again !' ejaculated Mrs' Spoopendyke, in a very gentle voice, handinghim another nail. ' " Can't unpry it uj> again r Well, if that ain't grammar !'

* Oh, ain't it?' said Mr Spoopendyke, with a Inost horrific smile. 'Of course it ain't, you old female seminary with a cracked bell in your cupola ! Am I going to school to you, or am I driving nails ?' 'Well, dear,' sighed Mrs Spoopendyke, 'you're surely not driving nails. 1 ' No, you can just bet I'm not drivin' nails, and you bet I ain't a-goin' to try to drive no more nails neither ! And you can bet,' continued Mr Spoopendyke, with still densifying intensity, and a war-dance flourish as he leaped to the floor, ' and you can just bet your high muck-a-muck, if you'll set that measley old chromo of yours on the side-table, I'll throw this confounded iboomerang so far through it that it won't get back for a century !'— Brooklyn Eagle. Two Frank Men. * Mr Blank,' began a citizen as he entered an office near the City Hall, ' just one year ago to-day I came in here and called you a liar. I believed what I said, and for a year we have not spoken to each other. Within a week past I have found out that I was mistaken, and I apologise for my harsh words and express my sorrow that I was ever led to indulge in such language.' 'Mr G.,' replied the other, as he extended his hand, 'your frankness begets frankness. During the last year but one you and I were friends. You borrowed upwards of 70 dollars of me in small sums, and never repaid a dollar. This last year we have been enemies, and I am ahead financially. While I may long to forgive you, I must look out for the interests of my growing family. Let us compromise by nodding to each other in Sunday School, paying our own way outside.' ' Sir, I shall never nod to you in Sunday ■Softool or elsewhere 1' said Mr G., and he walked -out as stiff as a ramrod and left the door wide f open. A Sorap of Conversation. The following scrap of conversation between a council of newsboys in Park row, says the New York Star, will give an idea of the American form of the English language as improved up to date . — 'I told that "rooster" to "hump himself." ' * Didhe " acknowledge the corn "? ' •"You bet." If he hadn't I'd just put a •• mansard over his eye." ' ' " Hold your horses," "he's on his muscle and could '*lay you out." ' ♦"Not much." He's only a "toddy blossom," and " hangs up his landlord." ' 'That's " small, potatoes," and if I was his landlord I'd " sit down on, him." ' 'That would be the "correct thing." You *cc, he's a " bad egg," and I'll " make it warm for him," " don't you forget it." ' * All right," " let's take a nip." ' * Have you got the " necessary " ?' * Well, " I should smile." Yes, I met an old chap who was " dead gone " on piety, and I played " innocent," and he came down with the "rhino."' ).. \ „ Trouble all Round. Here, we have a Greenbaoker. He seems Troubled about something. He is troubled about the National Debt. He is grieving because the country of his' nativity owes One Billion Dollars. The other Man around the Corner is a Grocery' Man: He, too, is Troubled, but he is not Worrying about the National Debt. Oh ! no. He is Worrying about the One Dollar and Forty .Cents the Greenbacker owes him.-— Denver Tribune Primer. Difficulties of the English Language. Colonel Pompernickel, one of the leading German manufacturers of New Braunfels, Tex., not long since, tells a good story upon himself when, as a raw lad, he was making his first effort ,to master the difficulties of the English language. All foreigners agree that the English is the hardest of all languages to to acquire;' ss does the Colonel. He had already learned the force and significance of ' sir,' and very naturally concluded that siree was its ;feminine. Being seated at a table opposite a very polite lady who asked him if he would partake of a certain dish, he replied, 'Yes, siree.' The laughter which followed somewhat disconcerted our hero, but he turned to a friend at his right and inquired what mistake he had made. His friend informed him that he should have said, 'Yes, siree, bob.' The roar of laughter from the audience, which now began to take an interest in the young German, confused him very much. In the midst of this confusion his left-hand neighbour kindly whispered something in his ear, which encouraged him so much that he braced himself for a third effort. Once more the lady inquired, ' Will you have a biscuit, sir ?' when he answered, 'Yes, siree, bob.'— Texas Siftings. Man's a Fool. It is settled as a rule, Man's a fool. When it's cold he wants it hot, When it's hot he wants it cold, Ever grumbling at his lot, Man's a fool. Ne'er content with what he's got, Always wanting what he's not, You may take it is a rule, Man's a fool.