Page 8 Advertisements Column 2

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 22, Issue 91, 24 November 1911, Page 8

WITHERING politeness. A hansom was being driven along a leading thoroughfare at a pretty smart pace when another, coming from the opposite dir rection, ran into it with just sufficient force to lodge the head of one horse on the back ol the other. The expected outburst of strong language not take place, but the dr.'ver of the hansom that had been run into sal still, and with withering politeness observed to the other driver: '• When your horse has seen all he wants to see across my horse's back, perhaps he’ll kindly get down. But there’s no hurry. glad to see him and the gentleman that holds the ribbons.” THE TRICKSTER TRICKED. Some time ago a well-known and cleverworking engraver called upon a somewhat equivocal financier, and asked; "Wha think you of this ?” showing him a one hun dred franc note.—" I think it is a one hundred franc note," cametheanswer, —" Well, I made it myself."—“ Send out and change it, and then we’ll see."—The servant came back with the gold.—" Why did you not imitate a one thousand franc note while you were about it ?’’ —“ A one thousand franc note ? a one thousand franc note? One must nave one first to imitate." —"Very well; there is one, and lose no time."—The engraver never made his appearance again He spent the thousand francs. The note he had shown the "gull” was as good as the one of which he had cheated him. But the financier never dared to say a word. HE’D SCOOP A LITTLE. About the time that Daniel Drew began bis career, he was np the country one day to visit some friends, and two farmers called upon him to decide a case. One had sold the other five bushels of wheat, and proposed to measure it in half a bushel, andsweep the top of the measure with a stick. The other objected, and Drew was asked "Well, legally speaking, a bushel is only a bushel," he answered. “ And can the measure be swept off ?” " I think it can.” " What with ?” “ Well, if I was selling wheat I should probably use half the head of a flour barrel.’* “ Which edge of it ?"

*• Gentlemen, that is a point I cannot now decide on," sighed Daniel Drew. "If I was selling to a widow or preacher, I am certain that I should sweep the measure with the straight edge; but if I was selling to a man who pastures his pigs in his ■ 'ghbour's corn, I’m afraid I should use th«. circular side, dnd scoop a little to boot.” A WOLF ADVENTURE. It was winter, the snow two feet deep in our settlement. Wolves there were in plenty, and Johnson and myself wereXdoing a good business trapping them. On each was a bounty of two pounds, and each skin was worth twelve shillings. One Sunday morning after Johnson had made himself ready for phurcb he thought *ie would examine one of his traps set in the •dge of the woods near his father's field. Putting on his heavy boots, and without gun or axe, he strolled across the field. When near the spot, the rattling of the chain by which the trap was fastened quick ened hispace; and behold a large wolf was in the trap. Johnson saw at a glance he wa? slightly caught by the end of his paw. Now he soliloquized, " If I go back for the gun, he may succeed in getting free before my i return," for the brute was making frantic efforts to free himself. Being a fine athlete, Johnson made a bound for the wolf, catching him by the throat. In the meantime the wolf had cleared himself from the trap, Then came the tug-of-war in that two feet of snow. The struggle was short and furious. Johnson held his death grip, sometimes on top and again underneath the brute, both so Covered in that it was difficult to distinguish wolf from man. The wolf at last was overcome, kicked and choked to death by his powerful antagonist. Johnson did not attend church that day, forhis'Sunday clothes hung in tatters ; besides, there were some ugly scratches from the sharp claws of the now dead game. “ 1 never will try that again, Mac,” he said to me. *'l thought myself a match for almost any wild animal of these woods, but this fellow was a bigger job than I reckoned on.” Johnson was then but seventeen years of age. MILITARY OBEDIENCE. The story is told in a French newspaper of Pierre Barlat, a poor labourer, who lived at Sevres, with his wife, Jeanne, and their three children. Industrious, frugal, knowing nothing of the way to the wine-shop, Pierre saved all bis spare money, working harder and harder, and at last bought the tiny cottage in which they lived, it was a tiny cottage, indeed— built of stones, with tiled roof, standing amid shrubs, and covered with clematis. It -iKvays attracted the eye of the traveller, on the left, as he crossed the S6vres bridge. ' Pierre and Jeanne worked and scraped and saved until the little cottage was paid for, and made a feast when it was all done, to celebrate their ownership. A landed pro v prietor, to be sure, does not mind an occasional expenditure to entertain his friends All this Pierre and Jeanne had accomplished just before the war of 1870, with I Germany, broke out. The conscription fell upon Pierre, who, moreover, was an cld soldier, and belonged to the Reserves. A gunner he had been, famous for his skill in hitting a mark with his shell. S evres had fallen into the hands of the Germans, but the French guns were pounding away at them from the fort on Mont Valerien. Pierre Barlet was a gunner at that i fort, and, one wintry day, was standing by his gun, when General Noel, the commander, came up. and levelled his field-glass at the Sevres Bridge. Gunner," he said, sharply, without look ing at Pierre. “ General," answered Pierre, respectfully laluting. | “Do you see the Sevres Bridge over I there?”

44 I see it very well, sir." " And that little cottage there, at the 'eft, in a thicket of shrubs ?” Pierre turned pale. 41 1 see it, sir." 44 It’s a nest of Prussisns. Try it with a shell, my man.” i Pierre turned paler still, and, in spite of the cold wind, that made the officers shiver in their greatcoats, one might have seen big drops of sweat standing out on his forehead ; but nobody noticed the gunner’s emotion. He sighted his piece carefully, deliberately, then fired. The officers, with their glasses, marked the effect of the shot, after the smoke bad cleared. 4 Well hit, my man! well hit 1" exclaimed the General, looking at Pierre, with a smile. 44 The cottage couldn’t have been very solid. It is completely smashed.” ’ He was surprised to see great tears run ning down the gunner’s cheeks. 44 What’s the matter, man ?" the Genera) asked, rather roughly. 44 Pardon me. General,” said Pierre, recovering himself. 44 It was my house—everything I bad in the world I" Thb most accurate weather report le the thnnder-nlan. '