ART OF LIVING

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 54, Issue 3895, 28 April 1937, Page 10

ART OF LIVING

EFFORTS AT AN AMERICAN CLUB. Peter Sawyer was recently elected president of the famous American Liars’ Club, the modern masters of the tell-tale. The honour was awarded to Sawyer after a contest which extended throughout the nation to determine the best liar among 26 candidates. It provoked the keenest interest among the disciples-of Baron Munchausen, who are always keen to win the coveted award, and Sawyer was elected amid tremendous enthusiasm. The Liars’ Club recently celebrated the third anniversary of its innovation, and many good stories were told by members. The stories included the classic one which a member related —his “ grandfather had a clock which was so old that the shadow of the pendulum swinging to and fro wore a hole in the back of the frame.” Another of the classics went this way: “ When I was a kid I used to shoot the eyes out of a horsefly over my shoulder at one hundred paces. One day as I was tramping through the swamp I came face to face with a bull buffalo. I grabbed the beast by the horns and got him down on one knee, and was about to give his neck a final twist when I saw a lion about to spring on me. If I had let the buffalo go he would have gored me to death. If I hadn’t the lion would have got me. I drew my gun out of my holster, fired two shots at the lion, jammed the gun back into the holster, and grabbed the buffalo again before he had had a chance to move. I was so fast getting the gun back into the holster that I got it back before the bullet was out of the barrel. The bullet struck me in the foot, but the accident saved my life. As I let go to grab my foot, the lion leaped, passing over my head and landing on the buffalo. In the struggle which followed both the lion and the buffalo were killed.”

“ Lying Jack,” one of the famous story-tellers of the West of America, was responsible for this one:—

“ My favourite tale was that I had killed an elk with a 15-foot antler spread. I always kept the antlers in a loft above a cabinet. One time, aftler a long absence I turned up again, and after one or two drinks my pals asked for a story. I said, ‘Pm (through, boys. For years I have been telling these stories until I have got to believe them myself. That elk story cured me. I talked about it so often that I got to believe killed it. One night I lit a candle and crawled up into the loft to have a look at the horns, and I’m hanged if they weren’t there.’ ”

The contribution of “ Hump-backed Jake,” an Alaskan fisherman, also provoked a deal of interest:—

“ I was out in the creek one day, and had forgotten my rifle,” said he. “On my way back home at night I saw a bear following me. I ran as hard as I could, but the bear was overtaking me. Just as I was about to drop with exhaustion I saw a lone tree ahead with the lowest limb 20 feet from the ground. I made a mighty jump.” “ Did you make it ? ” asked a listener. “ Well, I did not catch it going up, but I caught it as I was coming down,” answered Jake. A colonel told of his experiences as a young farmer. “The stumps on the farm were pretty thick,” he said, “ but we managed to raise a crop of corn. We had a sulky plough, and 1 sat in the seat managing the horses, four handsome bays. One day I found a big stump right in my way. I hated to back out, so I said a word to the team, and they just walked that plough through that stump like a bit of cheese.”