EDITOR'S WALLET

Otago Witness, Issue 2949, 21 September 1910, Page 89

EDITOR'S WALLET

The Letter Wasn't Sent. Master (to boy he has been correcting): "Now, sit down, and write a letter to your parents telling them how much you are taught here, and how little you protib therefrom. I should be ashamed to tell iaben*." Boy cries, sobs, and finally writes: "Dear Father, —I am stupid, though there M more to be learnt here than anywhere. Twioe two's four, four boys get into one bed six b**'« make one attio, and four

attics make one -well-ventilated and wellappointed sleeping dormitory ; one ~ound of bread and butter makes one breakfast, two breakfasts make one tea, and, while every tea makes its own supper, one mistake makes no dinner. But I am dull, and our j problems are hard. For instance, forty j drain, smells only make one hoy ill with | fever, yet one boy ill with fever makfce ■ forty doctors' bills " "This time," said the master, ' we will j overlook your conduct " He had been overlooking the letter!

He Wanted More.

She remembered him quite clearly. He was the honest-faced tramp who had Called some months ago, and who had' so touched her that she gave him some of her bus- | band's left-off clothing. ! "Gome inside, my poor man, she said I warmly, "and I wall give you a cup of nice j hot coffee and some cake." "No, fank yer, mum," answered the tramp.' "I don't want } r er cawfee, or yer kike. I've just called up to tell yer, maim, that in one of the pockets of that weeks* yer gave me larst summer, mum, I found | a five-pound note." "Good gracious," exclaimed the astonished housewife. "And you mean to tell (me, you good, hoinest man, that you have called to bring it back?" , "No, mum," answered the tramp; not exactly, mum. I've called for anuvvei- i weskit." |

i A Doctor's Prescription.

I Sir Frederick Treves, the eminent physician, had a patient whose limbs gave him ; constant pain. Sir Frederick startled him I one day by saying, "Do you ever V™%'f' The confused patient replied, "Well, 1 go to church." I "But do you ever pray at home? That you mav get better, .for instance?" "No, I can't say that I do," was the , reply. "Well, go home, kneel down three times a day. and pray," said Sir Frederick. The man, marvelling at such an idea, obeyed the doctor's order. In a month he called to tell the great surgeon that he was better. I "I knew you would be," said Sir Frederick. "I daresay the pirayers aided your recovery, but it was the act of kneeling that j your legs 'required. Now, keep on praying as often as you like!" ]

Stuck to His Book.

People who do little reading are likely to do that little very conscientiously. To read more than one book in several months would be impossible for them. An illustration of this kind of deliberateness was given not long ago. It was a country store. A traveller got into conversation with some of the loafers, and at last came to an old farmer sitting on a sugar-barrel, waiting for the post. "What do you think of the tariff?" he asked. 'What they doin' to it?" was the reply. "Why, haven't you read the papers.'" said the traveller. "Well I used to," said the other, "but 'bout a year ago I stopped 'em. They got to be too frivoling for me. Since then I've 'been took up reading a book."

Saved from the Wreck.

The shades of night had fallen. All was quiet. The whole street slept, when, suddenly, upon the knocker of the eyclemaker's door there came a virulent attack. Bill Spokes turned over sleepily. "Wot's wrong?" Ihe bawled cs.it. "You let out a machine to T3obbie Adams this arternoon !" piped a childish treble. "Well," growled Spokes, "I'm not gointer take it back this timer night! 'E'll 'ave ter keep it till mornin,' an' pay by uhe hour!" "I know that!" came the voice again. "But Bobbie's 'ad a bit of a spill through runnin' inter a moty-car, an' 'e don't want ter pay for the 'ire of more'n 'e can 'elp; so I've brought back all we've found of the machine, so far!" In his pyjamas, and a tearing rage, Spokes rushed downstairs. "Where's the part?" he stormed. "'Ere!" responded the late caller, holding out his hand. ' "I've brought the ilecah !"

Proof Positive.

King "Victor Emanuel of Italy is fon<3 of telling this story of a. valet whom he had finally to got rid of because of bis suspected though unproved, dishonesty : "Giuseppe was a good body-servant," narrates the King, "and while I never caught him stealing, I had many rea-sors for believing him untrustworthy. He was one of my household', and I confess to a fondness for the fellow, in whoso veins there is really more than a trace of royal blood. "I said to him one morning, 'Giuseppe, you are growing careless.' " 'Oh, your Majesty, I hope not,' he replied. " 'But you are,' I persisted. 'You sometimes forget to brusli my coats.' " 'Oh, sire, I assure you ' be started I to explain. I "But I cut him short with: 'There, that j is enough, Giuseppe. I left six llorins in | a. w'a:stcoat pocket yesterday and —they are still there.' The poor fellow nearly fainted, but whether from terror of dismissal or chagrin at having overlooked the money I couldn't quite make out. Anyhow, the six florins were a myth," concludes th-.> King with a royaJ wink.

Too Slow for a Soldier.

In a room on the top floor of a large factory a bov was amusing himeelf by going' through the bayonet exercise -with a longI handled brush in lieu of a. rifle. His boss, > coming quickly upon him, gave him a box on the ear for wasting his time. The sudden blow caused the lad to lose his balance and fall down the hoist-shaft, but, fortu- ■' | mafcely, he kept his hold on the brush, the I handle of which ('getting across the shaft). broke his fall, and enabled him to grasp I the chain, down which he slid in safety. The boss was horrified at the effect of his action, and rushed, breathless and gasp- ' ing with fear, down the eight flights of stairs to the basement, expecting to find , ! a mangled body, for which he would have i to account. 3 He was, however, just in time to see I the lad drop on his feet unharmed, so, recovering his self-possessionand his _ breath . he exclaimed: "Want to be a soldier—eh? > ' Well, you're too slow for that. Why, mail, I can walk down all those stairs J Kjuicker than you can fall down the faokt- .- : shaft J"