Couldn't Catch Him.

Otago Witness, Issue 2663, 29 March 1905, Page 78

Couldn't Catch Him.

Meissonier, like many other celebrities, had a passion for gardening. His gardener, an. accomplished botanist, knew to perfection the seeds of every plant, and his mastej had often tried in vain to throw him oif hi? guard.

"This time I have him," the arti«t remarked to a party of friends at the dinner table. And he showed them a packet containing the dried roe of a herring. He then sent for the gardener.

"Do you know this seed?" Meissonier inquired.

The gardener carefully scrutinised the grains.

"Why not?"' he said, at last. "They are the seeds of the Polpus finsarrms, a very rare tropic il plant."

"How long will they be coming up?" Meissonier asked, with a chuckle of suppressed exultation.

"About a fortnight." was the reply. Two weeks later the guests were again assembled at Msissonkr's table, and aftf-r dinner the gardener was announced.

"M. Meissonier," the man said, "the &cod has just come xip." "Ah ! you surprise me,"' the artist exclaimed, as ho rose and led the way into the garden to examine the botanical phenomenon.

Tho gardener lifted. 1 a gla«; ".hade and disclosed to view a small bed \vith throe rows of pickled herrings' heads peeping out of the earth. Everybody laughed. Meissonier dismissed the gardener on the spot, but took him on again next day.

At O'Hea's Party.

The Irish Christmas party has become famous the world over, and last year at Mr O'Hea's gathering our representative overheard the following delickmsly characteristic dialogue.

Mr O'Grady had) just l«ft the dancers, and had sidled up to Mr Flynn : "Sthep outside. Mister Flynn," he said. '" 'Tis afther a -kin' ye a few questions I'd be.''

They adjourned. Outside, Mr O'GraJy continued :

"It's the fo'nc backyarrd wo hoy here, wid plenty ay room. And now yell plaze be tellin' me, as bechune man and man, did ye iver say anythin' forninst the character a" mesilf or Mistress O'Gradv''"'

"As bechune man and man,"' said Mr Flynn quietly. '"Oi never did *ay anvrhin' derosratoory to ycrsilf or Mi-strep's* O'Gradv ; but" — taking off his coat — "Oi intind to!"'

The Woman He Didn't Marry. Every n.an knows that thoro is one perfect woman in the world. She is the woman he didn't marry. Sometimes he localises her — temporarily, and then there h trouble and alimony to pay ; but as a genera! thing- this faultless being oxi^ as a kind of human Utopia — a dream — a vision, which bs tjxkgb a &a,cl pleasure in cvnlei'i-

plating in times of domestic =trc£s, and contia«ttug with the poor, miserable, weak ji.eco of femiiiinity that he drew in the matrimonial lottery, but a wsion that he never expects to see.

"This docs not koep him from being very fond of the woman that he did marry" (says Belle Blitz), "but it cannot blind his eyes to her imperfections, nor keep him from perceiving that she does not po°se=s the superlative viitues of the woman ho didn't marry.

"For one thinjr, the woman that h© didn't marry would have understood him. and would have known thait fate really intended him for a poet, instead of a dry goods merchant. He would nover dare tell his wifo that many of the hours when she supposes he is wrestling with great financial problems, he is. in r&ality, trying- to find something else that will rhyme with 'love' in place of 'dove.'

"A man -ant explain these things to the- woman he married. If he shows her his son not to a lady's eyebrow, ,she either demands th© address of the woman, or ol»e. exclaims, 'Why, papa !' in a tone of voioa that convict? him of softening of the brain. Th© woman he didn't marry would look at these matters differently. She. would understand that because a man is fat, and bald, and middle-aged, and engaged in selling salt codfish, that doesn't keej hi? soul from soaring or prevent his breast from palpitating with romance. What comprehension, what sympathy she would have had, th© woman he didn't marry !

"And she would have always been young and beautiful. The woman he did marry grew stout, and apoplectic, and acquired triple chins, or sJi© "became stingy and bony and dyspeptic-looking- ; but no such calamity would have befallen the woman he didn't marry. He has a picture of hor always fresh and fair, and lissome, end graceful — a creature who would always have be&n an enchantress, and yet remained enchanted with him.

•'And she wouldn't have required so much money to live upon. He doesn't know how, but in his secret soul a man cherishes a belief that th© woman he didn't marry would have been able to keep house, set a fine table, make a good appearance, and dre.=3 handsomely on nothing a year. She wouldn't always be reminding him, as does the woman he did marry, that the servants" wages aro due, th© rent must be paid, that she needs a new dress, fhat the children have to have winter coats, and that the butcher has been three times with his bill. It is sordid matters like these that destroy the romance of married life, and matrimony with a wife who could livo comfortably on air would be a glad, sweet song, such as it can never b© with a wife who calls for cash in the hand. . . .

"Of course, the woman ha did marry is the best woman in th© world, and he wouldn't swap her off for anybody's wife ; but, unhappily, she doesn't possess the perfect temperament of the woman he didn't marry, and she has erves, and peculiarities, and ways that a man has to avoid, not because he. is airaid of her, but in the interest of promoting family concord. She has a habit of regarding all of htr husband's old friends with the ey© of suspicion, and -of going about with the look of a persecuted martyr when she can't get the things she wants, and the fatal ability to float herself anywhere she wants to go on a eea of tear>; and it's while he is oonte-nding with this difficulty and trying to dam th© waterworks that a man thinks most regretfully of the woman he didn't marry. If every man married the woman he didn't marry, how few divorces there would b&!"