EDITOR’S WALLET

Otago Witness, Issue 3101, 20 August 1913, Page 74

EDITOR’S WALLET

The Mistery. “Suppose, Bessie” (the teacher was trying to explain the meaning of recuperate), “suppose your papa has worked very hard all day. Ha is tired and worn out, isn’t ho?” “Yes, madam.” “Then when night comes and his work is over for the day. what docs he do?” “Oh,” replied Bcsaie, “that’s just what mother wants to know.” Wanted Hospitality. The recent Wandsworth by-election produced at least one amusing story. The Unionist candidate was fortunate in having as an enthusiastic worker a lady of great personal charm. Whilst canvassing, she knocked at a house of the typo favoured by the superior artisan. The door was quickly opened by a motherly old soul, who greeted the caller most heartily, invited her to “have a cup of tea. Puzzled, but gratified at the warmth of her reception, the fair canvasser accepted the invitation, and “over the tea-cups discussed general topics. At length she came to the point and solicited a vote for Mr Samuel. “Good gracious!” the old dame claimed, blankly, “You come about voting, then? And I thought you was our Jims now young woman ! ’ He’d Learnt His Lesson. Taking with him his best “ bedside ” manner, the new vicar set out to visit the patients in the local hospital. In ono of the wards ho observed a pale voung man lying on a bed, heavily swathed in bandages, and looking very, very miserable. So the vicar stopped and administered a few words of comfort. “ Never mind, my man,” he remarked, in cheering tones; “you’ll bo yourself again. Keep on smiling; that's the way in this world! ’ . .. , ~ “I’ll never -msmile again, rep.ied the youth sadly “ Rubbishexclaimed the vicar. “ There ain’t no rubbish about it,” retorted the other. “I’ll never smile again. X say—not at another feller’s girl, any’ow !” Consoling. “Sorry, Brown,” said the doctor after the examination. “ You’re in a very serious condition. I'm afraid I’ll have to operate on you.” “ Operate!” gasped Brown. ‘ Why, T haven’t the money for operations. I’m only a poor working man.” “You’re insured, are you not?” “ Yes, but I don’t get that until after I’m dead.” “Oh. that’ll be all right,” said the doctor consolingly. Outward Bound. The steamer was going to lona, and as she rounded the Island of Mull she began to rock a little. “ Have you sometimes worse gales than this?” asked an old lady of a deck hand. “Oh, yes, mum,” was the reply. “I’ve seen it that bad that the paint was all blown off the bulwarks, and two men had to hold on the captain’s hat, and all Ids hair was I down off at the sides. That was a storm for you now, mum!” Musical Honours, A smart young doctor eat facing his patient. “Yes, my friend,” he eaid, gladly, “you are quite well again now, and need not come hero again.” The patient, recovering from a bad illness, was relieved to hear this. Then his face became overcast again. “Bud abond dcr bill, doedor,” ho said. “I ain’t god mooch money. Till you dako dor bill oud in drade?” The kind-hearted doctor eyed his patient’s shabby clothes. “Well, perhaps I might,” ho said, agreeably. “Er, what is your trade?” “I vos dor leader off a Sherman band, doedor,” said the patient proudly. “We vill blay in d»r froont off your house every evening for von month.” Polly’s Tieat 'The new gramophone had just arrived, and in her nusband’s absence Mrs Jones thought she would give her parrot a treat, so she set the machine working on a record of “In Old Madrid,” sung by Mr Jones in his best style. At the very first bar Polly opened her

eyes in surprise, and rocked herself to <md fro in deep and speechless wonder. She was evidently thinking deeply, and her excitement was intense. She cocked her head on one side, with an expression that indicated interested conjecture and irritation at not arriving at a satisfactory conclusion. As the song finished, an idea dawn upon her. “Well,” said Mrs Jones, with pride, “what do you think of that, Polly?” Then the bird found words. “Groat Scot!’’ she shrieked. “You’ve got the old man boxed up this time, and no mistake!” A Willing Panhandler. The late Archbishop Ryan, of Philadelphia, was accosted one day by a drunken panhandler, who asked for a dime. The Archbishop gave him the dime and said: “My friend, don’t you think it would bo possible for you to walk in the straight and narrow path?” The panhandler straightened up. “Who? Me?” he asked. “Show it to me. I used to be a tight-rope walker.” Four of a Kind. Judge Isaac Russell, Chief Justice of the Court of Special Sessions of New York City, undertook a private and unannounced tour of inspection among the various corrective and charitable institutions in hia jurisdiction. Late in the afternoon he entered the outer office of one of the insane asylums. “I should like to make a trip through this place,” ho said.to an under-keeper who chanced to bo in sole charge of the office temporarily. “Visitors’ dajs are Wednesdays and Saturdays,” said the keeper shortly; “and, besides, it’s after hours.” “But I insist on being shown through,” said his Honor. “Well, you’ve got a nerve!” growled the keeper. “Who are you to be givin’ fee orders?” “I am Chief Justice Russell of the Court of Special Sessions,” was the answer. “That’ll bo about all,” said the keeper wearily. “We’ve got three of you in here now. Why don’t you call yourself George Washington—there’s only one of-him?” The Briuht Side. Mrs Knoall was greatly puzzled—and not without reason. The fact is, she happened to meet Mr Newlywed one morning as he was rushing to catch his train, and ventured, with her usual solicitude for other folk’s affairs, to hope that Mrs Newlywed wasn’t having tfoublo with her servants. “Ob, no!” said Mr Newlywed. “We’vo got three!” 'then ho dashed off, leaving Mrs Knoall gasping. Three servants, indeed! Why, it was common knowledge in isuburbville that the Newlyweds wore anything but rich. How on earth, then, could they afford to keep three servants? Mrs Knoall felt forced to call on the bride that afternoon to make investigations. On his return homo in the evening, Mr Newlywed was greeted with this question: “John, what ever made you tell Knoall this morning that we keep three servants?” John smiled. “Well, don’t we, my dear?” he asked. “It seems to mo that we always have one going, one coming, and one here!” Payment in Kind. Jasper Katchfea was undoubtedly an exceptionally shrewd lawyer. What’s more, despite his severity, he had won for himself the whole-hearted respect of his staff, from clerks to office boy. The latter, in fact, although he got far more than his fair share of stern rebukes, so far from resenting these admonitions, felt flattered by them. One dav he was met by a boy who worked in a neighbouring office. “What’s your salary?” asked the other boy. “Ten thousand a year,” said little Tommy. “Go on I” “Go on, yourself!” retorted Tommy. “As a matter of fact, though,” ho added, “I got six hob a week in cash, and the rest in legal advice!”