HERE AND THERE.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 5028, 8 June 1889, Page 2

HERE AND THERE.

Here is a joke at Sydney Taiwbanga’s expense, which we do not remember meeting with in any colonial paper, and is now cubed from a London journal:—Before To Kooti set out, definitely, for Poverty Bay, he paid a visit to Auckland, where be was lionised by a section oly:itizens,lho shown over factoiles,ond presented with vaiious triiles !as souvenirs of his visit. Thus Mr Taiwhanga “ Here is a m&n who has massacred European women and children* as well as Maoris, and you give him presents of butter and tinned meat. Here am I doing my best for both races. Who gives me any butter or beef, or makes a fuss over me ?” An Auckland gentleman reminded the disgusted legislator that virtue was its own reward, to which ho replied : “Virtue be hanged! What’s the good of virtue when a fellow can't get a tin of preserved meat for it ?”

He was employed in the office of a certain New Zealand journal and was in the habit of taking his lunch at the office. One day it happened that the common domestic cold beef sandwich palied upon his jaded palate, and he sallied forth in quest of something tasty. Entering a general store be asked fer a pot of ‘ anchovy paste.’ ‘ .Anchovy paste,’ said the shopman, half in doubt; then brightening up as he recalled his customer’s occupation, ‘ wo don’t keep the article, sir, but we can give you the best office gum ! ’

Eidei’ Haggard can tell some good lion stories, but the following copied from a Capo paper heals all. Our old race of “bullockiss” would have some difficulty in believing it. Hero it is in its naked truth—or falsehood “ A prospector, with ten donkeys and a waggon, had ‘ outspanned' for the night, during which a Siungry lion ‘ scoffed ’ one of Jerusalems, and, being filled to repletion, was disinclined to wander from the scene. In the early morning it being rather dark, and the prospector and his niggers half asleep, Mr Lion was ‘inspanned’ as wheeler in mistake for the missing moke. The eight in front beat their recordj in the travelling line, and were glad to have the error rectified at dawn."

TABLEAUX TIYANTS. “ Broadbrim ” in his letter from Hew York to the N.Z. Times, says that tableaux are now the fashionable fad in the city ho dates from, and after describing some of the exhibitions of the daintier classes, he gives the following amusing account of a tableau which the pastor of an African church in Brooklyn arranged as means of raising the wind: —Brother Christmas, besides being an indefatigable Christian worker, is a man of ready resources —so it occurred to him that he could replenish his exchequer by giving a series of Bible tableaux in the church —The departure of the Ten Tribes, Joseph and his brethren, Jacob’s Ladder, with myriads of little coloured angels ascending and descending. (By the way how did the delusion ever gain foothold that all angels aro white P) But the most interesting tableaux of the week was the sacrificing of leaac by Abraham. Isaac was represented by a little coloured Christmas who came out in his night shirt carrying a bundle of wood. Then the lights were turned down, and Brother Christmas sang out “ Abraham hoi’ dyban’ —then the lights were turned up, and Isaac hopped down from the altar, for Abraham had discovered a leg of lamb in a basket, all nicely roasted, which the congregation forthwith proceeded to sacrifice, for the considerate angel above bad put some crackers and ham sandwiches in the basket, so that Abraham and Isaac were able to have quite a nice lunch after their morning’s walk up the mountain. As soon as the sacrificial leg of roast lamb was brought out of the basket, and Abraham and Isaac proceeded to demolish it, some of the profane wretches present began to titter and laugh, but one of the deacons got back on them and said “ Yes, yes, you may laugh now, but bimeby you’ll all be a larfin’ on de oder side of your moufs, yes you will,’ and brother Christmas reminded them that it was a very solemn ceremony, and a perfect representation of how the patriarchs conducted their sacrifices eighteen hundred and eightynine years ago! The next tableaux will bo King Solomon’s temple, all covered over with solid gold, and ice cream thrown in for fifteen cents.

O-U-G-H. A Fresh Hack at an Old Knot, that requires careful Picking of the Chips. [Enter M. Jean Crapaud, who speaks.] ‘ I’m taught p-1 o-u g-h Uhall be pronounced ‘ plow.* Zat’s easy wen you know,’ I say, * Mon Anglais I’ll get through.’ My teacher say zat in zat case O-u-g-h is ' oo.’ And zen I laugh and say to him, * Zees Anglais make mo cough.’ He say, 1 Not coo, but in zat word O-u-g-h is “ off ” On, Sucre Bleu ! such varied sounds Of words make mo hiccough !

He say, ‘Again, mon friend ees wrong ; O-u-g-h is “ up ” X'n hiccough,’ Zen 1 cry, ‘ No more, You make my throat feel rough.’ ‘ Non ! non !’ he cry. ‘ You are not right— O-u-g-h is “ uff.” I soy, 1 1 try to speak your words, I can’t pronouaz zem though !’ ‘ In time you’ll leai j, but now you’re wrong O-u-g-h is “ owe.” ’ ‘ I’ll try no more, I sail go mad : I’ll drown me in ze lough.’ ‘ But ere you drown yourself,’ said ho, “O-u-g-h is “cck.”’ He taughc no moro! I held him fast! And killed him wiz a rough ! Charles Battol Loomis, in tho New York JEcenivy Fast.