The Bore.

Otago Witness, Issue 1813, 20 August 1886, Page 36

The Bore.

Afllong the numerous inventions for which We are indebted to our cousins across tho Atlantic may be reckoned an asortment of expressive phrases, for which we, in our unimaginative old country, have no equally graphic equivalent. An American newspaper has lately added to our obligation by supplying us with a remarkably fine piece of imagery, descriptive *of that quality which we are wont to' denote by the somewhat ponderous phrase, "unparalleled impudence." It occurs in a poem called " The Bore," and I cannot refrain from quoting the lines in which it is contained : " He was positive, emphatic, And'could talk a man rheumatic, For his thoughts were quite insuff'rably unique : He would spout forth like a geyser Or a circus advertiser, " With his vast untravelled solitudes of check} " "Vastuntravelled solitudes of cheek "13, in the language of old Polonius. distinctly " good." — Home paper. His Own Offspring, — Yesterday afternoon there was a crowd of excited darkies in a dark alley gathered round two negro boys who had clinched each other and were fighting away for dear life on the ground. There was one negro man present, and he urged the combatants not to give up. 11 Gouge him in de eye. Bill ! Sam, if you give in 111 tan yer hide for yer. If you whips Bill, I'se got a quarter for yer. Chaw the end of his nose." A well-dressed gentleman stopped and said to the negro man : " You ought to be ashamed of yourself to encourage those boys to fight." "Why, Lor, boss," was the response, " dem's my own childuns." — Texas Sittings. Life Saving Properties of Whisky.— "Yes," said a man desperately, who had just purchased a loaded revolver, " one dollar is all I have left in the world, and that I shall spend for whisky. When the last cent is gone I shall blow my miserable brains out." Two hours later he had spent his dollar, and was pawning his revolver for money to buy more whisky with. — N. Y. Sun. A Quakers Advice.— Many young Quakers joined in the American war between North and South. One venerable old Friend found that three of his sons had gone to this conflict against which his oreed arrayed him. The youngest felt that he too must go ; but, fearing to tell his family, he took his gun one day and began to clean it, placing himself in his father's way. The old gentleman saw him, and paced slowly up and down, but said nothing, Presently he approached the young man. " Charles," he said deliberately, "■if the devil has made thee feel that thee needs one of these worldly instruments, spare not thy money, but get the best." AN Attbactive Offeu. — A polygamist who was owner of fourteen daughters, but •who was not over possessed of wordly goods, said to us not long since, " Young man, you are foolish, sinfully so, I may say, for leading a single life when" you might have half a dozen nice young girls to keep you company." Taking a retrospective view of our lonely misspent life and the cabin on the hillside, we ventured the remark that perhaps one would do to start with, when our Utah friend slapped us on the back with the astonishing exclamation : — " Take three and its a bargain." "She Noddit to Me." — The following poem, which recently appeared in the Bon Accord, a weekly comic journal published in Aberdeen, attracted the notice of the Queen, and her Majesty wrote expressing a desire to be furnished with tlie name of the author : — I'm but An aiild body Livin' up in Deesidc, In a twa^roonVd bit hoosie Wi' a toofa' beside. V7i' my coo and my grumphy I'm as happy's a bee, But I'm far prooder noo Since she noddit to me 1 I'm nae sac far past wit— I'm gie trig and hail, Can p!aufc twa-frhree taw6ies, An' look after my kail ; • An* when oor Queen passes I'm cot to see, , Gin by luck she micht notice And nod oot to me ! But I've aye been unlucky. And the blinds were aye doon, Till lost week the time O' her veesit cam' roon'. I waved my bis apron As brißk'B I could dae, An' the Queen lauch'd fu' kindly An' noddit to me I My son sleeps in EgyptIt a nae eese to freit — An' yet when I think o'fc I'm sair like to greet. She may feel for my sorrow — She's a mither, ye see — An' maybe she kent o't When she noddit to me 1