EDITOR'S WALLET.

Otago Witness, Issue 2456, 17 April 1901, Page 69

EDITOR'S WALLET.

Prison Too Good for Him. "What is your sentence?" said the King of Naples to a comict when vititmg a large, crowded prison. "Fifteen years, your Majesty." "And what had you done';'' "Nothing whatevei." "Quite innocent V" "Entirely, your Majesty." "And you'/" he asked another. "Thirty years, Sire. Victim o[ a false accusation." _ *: And you 1 '" — to a third. "In for life, my King." "And what had you done?" "Everything you can think of, my King — theft, burglary, highway robbery, manslaughter, murder. 1 only wonder they did not sentence me to death." "What is your name':" asked the King, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "My name," replied the first-class criminal, "since I have beon here has bean 912. I have no other." After finishing his tour of inspection the King said-*fo the governor : "All the prisoners here seem to be perfectly innocent. There is only one bad man among them — No. 912. He seems to be a great villain.' "You had better let him out, lest he corrupt the others." Mixed 'I heir. On the outskirts of a celebrated city of the north of England se\eral large manufacturing works have been established, and amongst the number is a chemical establishment, the smells from which were, almost daily, so offensive that those who resided near quitted the locality in large numbers. At last the owners of the house property which was being affected instituted legal proceedings against the company producing these intolerable odours. A noted counsel was retained for the defence, and he pooh-poohed the idea of a nuisance, speaking of it as an "alleged smell." It was quite evident that judge and jury were co impressed by the defence that things looked black for the plaintiff?. One of the prosecuting counsel was, however, observed to slip out of court ; but he soon returned, bringing two glass retorts. When his opportunity came, he handed them to the judge, who passed them on to the jury. He then explained that these were the chemicals used. They seemed to be quite inoffensive, colourless liquid?. "But, my lord," said the wily barrister, "the defendant company mixes them." Thus saying, he poured the contents of one vessel into the other. The smell then emitted was so abominable that the court had to be cleared and the case adjourned for some hours. The prosecution won. How She Saw the Mnsr. Mr A. G. Hales, the Australian writer, war and special correspondent of the Daily News, was told off by his chief to do the passing of King Edward through the London streets fo the House of Lords from the midst of the crowd. He had rather a curious experience, as he thus relates: — Tacktrng here and tacking there, I made my way along the Thames Embankment, sometimes upon my feet, sometimes upon the shoulders of tho£e hard by, until the kindly fates drifted me up against a eroding leading to the road the King and Queen would travel. I tried to pass, but burly policemen barred the way that none. might go who had no magic ticket of admission to that channel. I showed my office card, and a colossus in blue, gripping me by the shoulders, dragged me from the crowd into the liir-en, and as he did so I felt something clinging to my , arm, and looking down a soiled glove ] flanked by a frayed ulster sleeve. I vainly tried to shake it off. It hung to me as debts hang to a man when he is down, and when the officer had hauled me through that opening which led to a safe spot where our sovereigns might be seen, the glen ed hand still hung -upon my dexter arm. Then from somewhere down beneath my shoulder a female treble squeaked, "O, "usband, ain't it 'orful." That shook my seasoned nerves, for wife of mine was not in London town. A grinning officer stepped up and said, '"That (hem) lady cannot r as » unless she's yours, sir," and again that piping treble said, "O, 'usband, aint it 'orful?" I looked and saw a battered hat ; it had been dainty once. I saw a shabby overall, and between the overall and hat I saw a pale face, thin and work-worn, not pretty, yet it carried something I have missed from prettier faces — a pair of troubled grey eyes looked up to me beseechingly, the thin lips trembled into an, appeal, a whisper loud enough to catch the policeman's ear caught mine, "Q, 'usband, I so want to' see the King." I felt as many another fool has felt before as I stood there and saw the grinning crowd leering upon that shabby shrinking figure. I knew she had no other chance to see her King. The officer lookod hard at me, and said : "Your wife, sir?" I looked him hard between the eyes, and said: "My wife, sir!" He closed one eyelid with majestic slowness. I blushed, and we passed on. I got one grateful look from those grey eyes, the shabby glove slid off my arm, and I stood alone. He Would Take the M>k. A guide was showing an American traveller about St. Paul's Cathedral the other day, and pointing out all the tombs of interest. "That, sir," said he. "his the tomb of the greatest naval 'ero Europe oi the world hever knew — Lord Nels-on's. This marble sarcoughogus weighs forty-two tons. Hinside that his a steel recepticle weighing twelve tons, and hiiwide that i<= a leaden casket, 'crmetically sealed, weighing over tw ~> tons. Hinside that, is a rnahoganv coffin, holding the hashes of the great 'ero." "Well," repbed the American, after me-dita-ting a bit. "I guess j-ou've got him all right. If ever he gets out of that, cable nae in full at my expense." In Gaol for Pebt. A Taunton la<jly commissioned an artist t-o paint her poi trait. On its completion, she expressed her great dissatisfaction with the work, declaring that the picture wa3 not a bit like her, and that no one could recognise it as her portrait. She would neither accept the painting nor pay for it. Next day there was a great commotion in the Taunton street containing the aitist's studio. A crowd was gathered before his window, viewing the rejected picture, across which the arti6t had painted a few iron.

bars, and underneath the words: 'In gaol for debt." The lady was furinu", and prooimly sent a letter requesting the immediate iemo\al of the pictuie, at the same time threatening him with the law. "My dear madam," wrote the ■prti'-t, in reply, "a.« the picture, on votu- ewn confession before witnesses, le-oinbles you in not the least degree, and as it ceitamly resembles no other person I ha\e o\ cr >-eoii, it shall remain in my window until sold at double the original pi ice." The lady bought t\\o picture the same day. Then He Stood Down. The witness looked youthful, and appeared to be rather uncomfoi taHo too. Consequently counsel atsunicd hi- most imposing mariner. "You describe yourself as a writer?" he began. "Yes, sir!" "What kind of a writer? A sign-writer?" "No, sir!" "A ticket writer?" "No, sir." ''Not an author':" "Partly, sir!" "What do you mean, sir, by 'partly'?" "I'm in father's office, sir. He's, a moneylender, and I'm the author of all the sharp letters to backward borrowers. If you remember, I sent you one last week, sn I" End of cross-examination. What Eecume of the Coat. Grouse, with the other hounds of the pack, was cared for by a tru=twoithy 3 r oung man familiarly called Willie Davidson. This man was a very good hound trainer, but not a person whom you would cv er suspect of c-herishing sentiment. One night, when Willie went to the stable where the hounds had their quarters, he stumbled over Grouse, curled vp on the doorstep and apparently asleep, but actually dead from poison. "Some time afterwards," says the writer, "we were shooting down in Oxfordshire, and one night I was cleaning my gun when Willie was busy about something else. All at once I happened to glance at his shooting coat. Now, not long before, I had given li.m a veiy nice coat, which I had bought for my own use." "Why don't jou wear the coat I gave you?" said I — "the coiduroy you used to like?" He made no reply, and a moment later I asked him again: "Why don't you n ear the old corduroy I gave you" Still he failed to answer, and onl} r bent lower over his work. I could not see hi? face. Then I knew something was out of joint. I "Davidson, man," c aid I. "what's gone wrong 9 It- anything the matter?" He raided his head aiid looked at me. Big tears were standing on his check?. He could hardly speak: but at length he said: "Mr Plum, sir, the truth is. I buiied old Grouse | in that coat. He knew it, and he liked , it, and I wanted to do the best I could." I r And Fe had Given him Saxpencr- ! A Perth tiaderman who had amassed, as he believed, £4000, was sin prised by his old clerk with a bolance sheet showing his fortune to be £SCOO. "It canna be," said the principal; "count ag'en. " The clerk did count again, and again declaied the balance to be £6000. The master counted him^lf, and he also brought out a surplus of £6000. Time after time he cast up the columns — it was still ;i six. and not a four, that rewaided his laboars. So the eld meichant, on the strength of h.s good fortune. moderni=ed his house, and "put money in the purse" of the carpenter, the painter, and the upholsterer, and in a weak moment gave the clerk sixpence. Still, howe-\er, he had a lurking doubt of the existence of the extra £2000; so on New Year's Eve he sat down to give the columns "one count more." At the close of hL ta-k, he jumped up, and rushed through the dark street", in a shower of rain, to the hou=e of the e'er'*. The rierL/s head c-meiged from an atticwindow, at the sound of the knocker, to inquire the errand of his midnight visitor. "Who's there?" he mumbled. "And what i d'ye want"'" ' "It's me, ye «covmdiel '" exclaimed his employer; "ye've ade'ed up the year of our Lord amang the pounds !"

He Arrive* at the fight Afire. j The lady in the witne=s-box was reluctant to disclose her age, and the presiding magistrate was astute enough not to press the question. "What is your age, madam" he had inquired, and "Whatever you el oose, =ir" she had made answer. She was under oath. "You may put down 45 years, then," said the magistrate to the clerk. "What is your ! occupation, madam" I } "Fir," said the witness, "you have made ' a mistake of 10 year*- in m) r age." "Put down fifty-five years, then," directed* the magistrate. "Your residence" " "Sir," exclaimed the lady, angrily, "my ago is thirty-fh c—note — not fifty-five!"' "Thank you. madam," said the magistrate blandly, and the entire bench joined in the smile tint went round the court. It Makes life f> ustaiuable. "Whisky (says "Mr Dooley") is called th' divle, because 'tis wan iv th' fallen angek," h<3 says. "It has its place." ho says, "but its place i 4i 4 not in f man's head, " says he. "It ought to be th' reward iv action, not th' cause iv it," he says. "It's f'r th' end iv th' day. not th' beginnin'," he says. "Hot whisky is good f'r a cold heart, an' no whisky's good f'r s> hot head," he says. "Th' minyit a man rchos od it f'r a cri'tch he lo«es th' u<.e iv 1m& legs. 'Tis a bad thing to stand on, a good tiling to sleep on, a good thing to talk on, a bad thing to think on. If it's in th' head in th' moiniii' it ought not to be in th' mouth at night. If it laughs m ye. dhrinki; if it weeps, bweai off. It makes some men talk like good women, an' some women talk like bad men. It is a In In' f'r oiatorp an' th' death iv bookkeeper.-. It doesn't sustain life, but when taken hot with wather, a j lump iv sugai. a piece iv lemon peel, an' | just th' du=tin' i» a nutmeg-grater, it makes life sustainable. 1 ' The Fdncalion of Santa flaus. Twelve o'clock had struck on Christmas E\e, and the up-to-dtire infant snuggled in ! his warm -cot with- the bus& rails and the dimity hangings. | Suddenly <i tound. A loo^e biiik cradled I down the chimney, aiid a niomciit later Santa Clans, in hi-- red cat ti'mincd with , holly, stepped from the fiicplaco, muttering j something about jerry buildoia n uL iig huch narrow halls. | "Excuse me one moment," said ibe ud-

to-date infant, switching on the electric light. "P]ep=;e stand quite still." fianta Clau.-- ga=pcd. Thcie was a click, and the up to-date infant put down Ins, kodak with a <-atisned f xpre=sjor>. "Thank you." he paid; "now what can I do for you 1 '" "My dear little child" (the U.I. raited his, eyebrows slightly), "I have bi ought you some toys" — and Santa pioducud a woolly rabbit from his bag. The U.I. flammed it thoughtfully. "I fear," he said, "Uiat as an anatomical model that specimen is absolutely u^ele^. Are you not aware that in incisor teeth of the order Boclenta " But Santa Cl ius had trekked: and the U.I. smiled sweetly a? he resumed his ciioam of conic sectioi *-.