EDITOR'S WALLET.

Otago Witness, Issue 3148, 15 July 1914, Page 73

EDITOR'S WALLET.

What lie Used. An Irishman in a poor quarter of Liver pool lately received a visit from a woman interested in the betterment of the unfortunate. Mr Casey, ’ said she, “ I am trying to interest the neighbourhood in a people’s bank to be started here. Would you mind telling me where you deposit your wages?” Mr Casey smiled grimly. lis 25 shillings a week I earn, mum,” he said. When I have naid the rint, the provision and grocery bills, an’ the milkman, an bought what’s needed for Bridget! an me an’ tho five children, I deposit the nst o’ the money in barr’ls, mum. I uses sugar bands mostly. They’re a bit larger an’ so holds more; but whin I can’t get thim kind, I make shift with plain flour barr Is. , Sweet Sympathy. Visitor: I just dropped in to cheer you up a little. Sick Iriend: “ Thank you so much. When one is confined to the house with appendialways glad of a cheerful visitor. ,> Visitor: “Yes, indeed. And so many people are dying of that complaint nowadays. Patient: “Well, that’s very cheering, certainly !” Visitor: “ I know, you see, for my wife always reads tho death column 1 before she can cat her breakfast, and I’m really tired bearing her say, 1 After an operation/ When e yours coming off? She wants ta know. (Patient collapses.) TUiat They Lacked. Two men cn a train were apparently old acquaintances, and they were in a jovial mood. Both were grey, but each had a luxuriant head' of hair. Near them sat a stout party with a shining dome that was almost destitute of hirsute covering. The two friendao exchanged facetious remarks about silver locks, then indulged in some pleasantries about the “thinning of the thatch,” with casual references to door knobs and billiard balls, touch to the amusement of tho passengers, but to the evident discomfort of the bald-headed man. The talk finally developed into an argument of the cause of baldness, and, after considerable jocularity, the pair turned to the pearly-pated stranger,'and one said: “My friend and I have been discussing the cause of baldness, but wo can’t seem to agree . Would you mind telling us what you regard as the real cause of baldness?” The ; stranger wheeled about, eyed hia questioner fiercely, and snorted, “ Brains!’* It Often Happens Jones was taking his holiday at the end of May. Robinson’s holiday was not dua until September. , When, therefore, Robinson called at the Joneses the other evening for a friendly chat, the' master .of tho house tried to wax. eloquent at his expense—to tantalise <ana make him envious. In a few days’ time Jones was going off on his holiday—a 14-day circular sea trip—leaving his wife and family at home. “How delightful it will be,” he said, addressing Robinson, “all day long to inhak tho invigorating ozone of the sea! Tho set —the boundless sea! Oh, I long for it—long to breathe in long draughts of that air. Why, I shall want to stand every moment of the voyage on the prow of th< ship with my mouth open— —” At this moment Mrs Jones chirped to. Till then she had been sitting by the window demurely sewing. “And, dear,” she said, “I expect you will. I remember what happened at Margate last summer, that day we went out sailing.” ■ What He Was Selling’. One who might be described in the curate’s phrase as “a notorious church worker,” tell this story. Coming up to hia. house one afternoon ho noticed the housemaid deep in conversation with a rather disreputable-looking travelling salesman. He was just inducing her to sign an order form. “Clear out at once,” said the householder. “I won’t have you fellows working off abominable rubbish on unbusinesslike girls. ’ “If you’ll excuse me, sir,” said the salesman in tones of grave rebuke, “I was only trying to get the young lady to order our illustrated family Bible in monthly parts.” Cool and Calculating. It is not hard to keep from being fleeced if you are only sufficiently in earnest about it. A story is told of a German mountain climber who did not forgot to be economical, even in the midst of deadly peril. A party was crossing a glacier on the slope of Mont Blanc when one of the travellers called to tho others to stop and listen. Strange cries came from the ice beneath their feet. “ Someone has fallen into a crevasse!” exclaimed one of the party. “ His groans seem to indicate that he is already beyond help.” “We must do what we can, in any case,” responded one of the guides; and he began a long and perilous descent into what proved to be the bosom of a concealed crevasse. At the bottom they found the poor gentleman who had fallen. Ho was, however, quit©

unhurt, sitting comfortably upon a bench of ice. ~ .. { “We’ve come to save you, .said one ot the guides. , ' “You save me? answered the gentleman, quite tranquilly. “ How do you know I want to be saved?” v k “Because you called to us for aid, said one of .the bewildered guides. “ Perhaps I did,” replied the German, “ perhaps I didn’t. You came, anyhow. Nov/, what’ll you take to rescue me? And before* he would allow the guides to hitch him to the rope and drag him to the surface, he compelled them to set down writing the exact amount they would require for the performance of their life-saving duty. He was a business man, whatever anyone could say against him—and, moreovei, he knew the guides of Switzerland. ' Quite antes* “Auntie, arc we late?” murmured Angola, as they ascended the steps of Mrs de Yim’s mansion. ~ , , . “Of course wc are, said the old lady in a flurried voice. “You will stop titivating so long that we’re late everywhere we go.” Feeling very email, Angela meekly -followed auntie. “What narno. pleaso?” asked the pompous individual in the hall. “Miss Cocker,” answered the austere old lady very primly. “And Miss Cocker, too! joined in the niece hurriedly. “Keep quiet, child!” auntie sternly enjoined. - \ The flunkey opened the drawing room door in. a lordly and, with all the dignity at his command, ushered them into the assembly. “Aliss Cocker and Miss Cockertoo!” he announced. Tlifc Wail of the Woeful One. To be short of a wife Is a worrying life. And terribly wearing too. One’s trousers to mend, And work without end. Oh! what’s a poor fellow to do ! I got a fair warning At breakfast this morning When I made such a mess of the stew. There’s sweeping galore, And lots of jobs more. Those buttons to sow on, too! The stove was too hot, A fact I forgot. Burnt my fingers through and through. And scalded my toe, (Oh !. pity my , woe !) For the kettle boiled over, too! I get in a fix, Air cross as two And swear a'bit at times, ’tis true. It’s part of my wail, I very often fail At what women so easily do! What can be the cure? More I cannot endure; You don’t know what I’ve gone through! Why, it seems pretty plain, Got married again, Is what this poor follow should do I But then comes the trouble. When one wants to get double. The women all want to, too! The girls are alert. And the widows all flirt. For they want to worse; they dp! .“Of widdere beware,” And the rest of the fair Are a curious sort of a crow; With their hobble skirts. And their low-cut shirts. Oh! what’s a poor fellow to do ? For they won’t wash pots. And have so many “nets,” When a man tells them what to do. They’re a queer bag of tricks. When a fellow’s in a fix; And I’m in a deadly stew! But there’s nothing like trying; I’m right off the frying, On my pluck I must put the screw. Though I know it is a lottery. I’m sick to death of pottery. So I determined what I would do!

I tackled on to one. She gave me the run, Though I swore that I’d he true. Then 1 went through the lot, But get one, I did not, For they all said —that I wouldn’t do! -J. 0.