MERELY MISUNDERSTOOD.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 167, 20 April 1916, Page 2 (Supplement)

MERELY MISUNDERSTOOD.

THE PARSON TELLS SOME GOOD STUKiES AGAINST HIMSELF.

Life would hold many more smiles if those who could' tell a good story—against themselves —would tell it. Some do; but they are the few. I'm one of the few, an Here's luck to mesirt! 1 think that at a certain period life had become too strenuous tor me. I was keeping eighty chickens—they weren't keeping me, lor a tact!—and 1 had a pupil. 1 returned aim, carnage forward, after six weeks. Further, I was engaged in shepherding a parish. What witn poultry, pupil, and parishioners I became a bit fey. Never opened my mouth without putting my root in it. Kesu'it—l frequently lound myself in an awkward' position.

I had married a couple, and later en in the day passed the house where the wedding festivities had be.m held. A carriage stood ready to come) the happy pair to th estation. and five or six Iriends had' squeezed themselves in as well. 1 poked my nose rr. at the carriage window, smiled paternally, and said jocularly, fixing a twinkling eye on a very stout gentleman who was trying to make five inches of teat hold twenty-five inches ot carcase, "You're pretty tight, 1 see.'' He ought to have replied, "Xecer mind! The more the merrier!'' but he didn't. He glared at me and told me to mind my own infernal business. What he'd had he'd paid for! He didn't want no bloomin' parson interfering with him. And more—which I've censored. "I'm afraid you've mis jiderstood me," 1 replied. " What I meant to saywas that you seem pretty full up." Now you see what I meant, don't you? But that fool of a fat man volleyed profanity at me, and U the carriage had not driven off there might have been a battle royal between Fat (him) and Lean (me). It was two months and. three days afterwards, when roup, croup, and ft xes had brought my poultry venture tc an end, that 1 saw that my words were open to a slight misconstruction.

I was contemplating a bazaar, and had called a committee to ri.seuss the matter. You know, probably, that the first essential to a successful bazaar is a swell to open it. I told the committee I had written to two Royal Highnesses and three Honourable;*, with no luck. Then a certain Mr. Pogton (that name will do), who had mido pots of money somewhere and sonuncw, and who was a most obnoxious peison, and' his wife worse, rose and made a suggestion. "My wife will open it, if you like. And I'll see she gives ?. tenner to the fund." Now, I'm no snob. I'm democratic to the backbone, hut the Pogton type I can't stand-patronis-ing, tyrannical, always stuffing their money" down your throat. So, very hurriedI}', 1 }', I said, "I'm Mraid that wouldn't do at all. We nunc have » lacy, vou see!"' He tucK his coarse face lr.iward, and proved he was no gentleman! He 'eft the room, knocked his crair over, hanged the door, returnee! •> o made another rnde remark, andtu-.n cleared. And all that I meant was tb it we must pander to the demands of t! e Briti',.i public, and get Lady This, or Lady That! In the end we got Ladj S . It daAvned upon me afterwards that friend Pogton had misundei stood me. I wanted to explain and apologise, but my better naif said, "Donr! You'll only make matters worse. ' So J didn't.

I called upon soaie new al rivals —a widow who had just lo,t her husband. A girl about fifteen opened the door. She was very pretty, but ratlicr pale, and dressed "in black. I knew at once that she was Mrs. B—'s daughter. "Good afternoon,'' 1 said, cu.rteouslv, ra ; sing my hat. "Is your n ether at liome?" She blushed, and asked me in.

Mrs. B— received me in te.e drawingroom. We chatted awhile, and then, as I was trying to get up a ladies' choir, I asked,'"Oh, does your daughter ning at all?" My daughter?" she replied, opening her eyes widely. "'res," I said, "the young lady who opened the door. She is very like you,'' 1 added. (That always goes down well.) "She's my maic-servant," said Mrs. B— freezingly. Oh, lor! I knew I had put my foot in it, hut I iusuned to null it out.

"I'm sure it would he very hard for a stranger to tell," I said, with a propitiatory smile. That blessed lady ought, of course, to have smiled back, and agreed. But she didn't. She rang the bell. "Mary," she said, "you will take a month's notice. This is not the first time you have opened l till? door to visitors without your cap and apron. .

Show Mr. H — out, will you." My wife says lam a fool. Ton my soul, I believe she's right. At any rate. I am a muchly misunderstood parson.