LOCAL AND GENERAL

Patea Mail, Volume XLVIII, 22 May 1925, Page 2

LOCAL AND GENERAL

Kakaramea sports on Wednesday next. A final reminder is given of the visit of Major Bladin to the .Salvation Army Hail to-night. The Blanket afternoon and baby competition lias been postponed until r’rlday next, 29th hist. ■'•'Eat a raw onion every day and you’ll bo happy and healthy,” advises a doctor. And you’ll find there will be, more room for yon in the trains and buses, too. Magistrate: “The officer says you offered resistance when he arrested yon ! ’ Prisoner; “That's me ail over, four Honour. Always offerin’ somethin’, whether it's aid, resistance, a toast or my seat in a tramcar!” A boy was sent to a fish shop for some roe. His father looked at it and said, “Take it back; it’s rotten.” The boy did so, and the shopman said: “V,’hat’s the matter with it?” Boy; • ‘ Father says it’s rotten roe.” Bhopman: ‘ ‘ Well, what does he expect for threepence —the Marble Arch : ” A little girl, on being told by her mother that when a child died, an angel came and took her up to heaven, thought deeply for a moment, then said, ‘ * Munnuic, if an angel comes asking for me, Just you say I am nut at home! ’' “Ton cannot blare.e my mother for this case, as she told mo 1 ought to go back io my husband,” was the frank admission of a woman at the Maintenance Court at Auckland; while in another ease -the statement was made by counsel that the wife’s mother was the cause of all the trouble. “ I am telling you the truth when 1 say that I was much happier when 1 was poor than 1 am now.” “Then why don’t you let your millions go and be poor again?” “Why, because I should be miserable thinking of the unfortunate people who got the money. ’ ’ “ f believe the age of man is almost done. There was a time when it was .v wonderful thing to be born a boy, ami .vlien parents did not know what to do with a girl, but Unit time lias passed. Women have come into public life because the century needed-them, but the feline, catty kind of woman always keeps the world had:.”—Lady Astor. “Women will live in the town, instead of gu'jig to the couulry with their husbands,” remarked Air !•’. K. limit, B M., in the Auckland Magistrate's Court, when Adjutant Cordon reported, after conferring with a young wife, that the woman absolutely refused to live with her husband, who was “on the lamb”

A eudire party in connci (ion with St, George's idies’ Guild will In* held in the Smulav Schoolroom on Tuesday.

Messrs W. .1. Fit zwu tor (fruiterer) and T. Campbell (hairdresser) have been appointed local agents tor the Mile of the Gigantic Art I'nion ! iekets.

‘ i.uok Imre,” .aid an irate club

man to another, • • did yon say my mother-in-law had a au-e like a bullterrier;”' ”1 did,” answered the other; “what about it?” “Take off your coat,” shouted the irate one. “Nobody's going to say things against that dug and get away with it.”

Accidents sometimes happen in a very .■Ample manner. A resident of Gouville had been engaged in painting his house in lids spare time, and had almost com pletcd the join lie was standing on a benzine case ,when it turned over, and as a result of the fall he sustained a compound fracture of the loft arm.

‘ ‘ Why, you arc a stranger!” exclaimed the youth in the bright socks to “ne pretty girl. .She drew herself up to iler full height. “I think,” she remarked in icy tones, “that you are mistaken; we have never met before.” “Just what I said,” replied the youth, cheerfully, “you arc a stranger.”

“William the Conqueror,' 'read the small boy from his history book, “landed in England in A.D. ,1066.” “What does A.D. stand for?” inquired the readier. “Why, ‘after dark,' of course,” was the reply.

‘ •' These men liavc no way of raising any money, other-than their wages. They are not like a man in business on hi* own account,” said .Mr If. K. Hunt, fcOL, in the .Magistrate’s Court, Auckland. The case was that of a debtor whose average weekly wage amounted 10 about £4. Defendant staled that he had a wife and six children to keep. Tie offered to liquidate his debt at the rate of -’/(i per week, but the solicitor wanted more. “He can’t do it,” said Mr Hunt. “I think you had better ;ake what be offers.”

The rehearsal was over, and, calling one of the actors to the front, the producer said:—“l have been sitting in the fourth row of the stalls, and 1 iiaven’t hoard a single word you’ve been saying. Your elocution is as monotonous as the song of the humble bee. Your h’s are as silent as the midnight moon. Ton don’t walk the stage —you waddle across it like a cluck. Your wig looks like a second-hand hearthrug. Your-clothes hang on you as they would on a hat-peg. You’re so many pairs of hands you don’t know what to do with them; and if you take my advice you’ll go and stuff’ your feet iu your pockets. ” “ Otherwise 0.K,? ’ ’ queried the actor.

“How is this for horse sense.’? A friend of mine bought a milk round in a Melbourne suburb recently,” says a

corre spomlout iii t lie ‘ ‘ Bulletin. ’ "and there went with it an open stable which had an electric light attached to the wall to light up both stable and yard. Every morning, early, the light was found switched on, and the boss blamed the men for forgetting to turn it off. The men pleaded not guilty, and decided to walch. Armed with a pitchfork and a pick-handle, they lay in wait for the culprit. About 1 a.m. they saw one of the horses-conic out of the stable, run his nose up the wall and switch the light on. He then crossed the yard, had a drink and a roll, surveyed the scenery for a while, and finally mooched back to the ■stable.”

This week’s "Free Lance” is a big pictorial number, devoted largely to a giapluc presentation of the sorrowful event of. last week —the burial of Mr Massey. The solemn pageant of the funeral, preceded by the lying-in-state, is the subject of many line pictures, specially taken for the ‘‘Free Lance.” The long procession through the City of Wellington, and the last scenes on the bold promontory of Point Halswell —where it is certain a great national memorial will arise—and portraits of the numerous figures associated with the event, make up a most valuable souvenir.