A HOODWINKED UNCLE.

Western Star, Issue 1969, 8 December 1894, Page 2 (Supplement)

A HOODWINKED UNCLE.

•flip* ERR, ZEBEDEE HAUSER, the great 88./ banker of Cologne, was a very sharp man and hard to beat. He belonged to a family who had multiplied and spread over the earth, founding counting-houses in all the capital cities of the world, and sucking up gold from their adopted countries as though their fingers were fashioned like the tentacles of the octopus. As nothing urges a man to despise his fellows so much as making money out of them, Herr Zebedee, who was in a way the head of all the Hauser firms, had collected a number of' aphorisms as to human imbecility, which he was fond of repeating, with a broad Prussian grin. One day, Herr Zebedee received the following lamentable letter from his first cousin, once removed—Herr Zachary Hauser, banker, and cigar merchant, of Bishopsgate-street. London:—

My Dear Zebedee :—Praise be to heaven that the quotations of our last loan are looking up, bub I am sorry to say my eldest son, Esau, is giving me a deal of grief. He has absconded from Condon^carrying with him a large sum in securities belonging to our customers, which it is his intention to negotiate on the Continent. I trusted him with the post of cashier for a week, and this is the never - to - be - sufficiently - deplored result. If this affair transpire, and Esau be caught, he will be prosecuted, and our credit will be damaged, not to mention the grief which a father must feel; but, my dear Zebedee,! have reason to believe that our Esau will have made for Cologne, there to hide for a while and negotiate his paper, so I pray you to find out the youth and recover the securities from him, even with threats of imprisonment if he resist. When Esau has restored the paper,then I pray you give him £4,000 and start him for the United States with the first Bremen packet, telling him his sorrowing father will never see him again, unless he makes his fortune in America and returns,like a true Hauser, to invest it in the business. The last consignment of cigars from Hamburg was nob up bo the samples, and I could only get rid of them by raising the price and selling them under a brand not their own —which is never a convenient thing bo do, but better than losing money.—l ■am your truly afflicted, ZACHARY HAUSER. Post Scriplmn.—Oar reason for believing that Esau has gone to Cologne is that lie is travelling with a maiden who is said to have friends in your city, where she once performed as an actress. Esau asked our leave to marry her, and, when we refused,. then it was that he absconded. I pray you, deal gently with the maiden, lest any scandal being raised, the business of our bank should suffer at this not favourable moment, when we want to raise public confidence in our last loan. I enclose Esau’s photograph. Z.H. When Zabedee Hauser read through this epistle of his cousin Zachary, a malicious twinkle shot through his eyes. “ Ach, Usher himmd ! I am not surprised at this,” said he; “this Esau is the little coxcomb whorn I have never seen, the only one among Zachary’s brood who would not come over to Cologne to serve his apprenticeship as a clerk in our house. They said he was receiving an aristocratic education in England. Ah, well, we see what has become of it. He is dressed in this photograph like an unthrifty libertine.”

Zebedee Hauser was, it will be seen, one of those excellent men who always contrive bo derive some consolation from the misfortune of others. He read his cousin’s letter over again, and then pub on his hat and gloves to go and look for the reprobate through the different hotels in Cologne. The cleues he had were very slender; but, fortunately, the photograph who enable him to trace the fugitive, supposing the latter were really in the town, Zebedee Hauser felt pretty anxious to lay hold of Esau ; for, in the first place, he did not wish the name of the family to bo dragged through the mire of a criminal prosecution ; and, in the next, he honestly desired to serve his cousin Zachary, who had been doing well in business of late, and success binds the hearts of banking cousins in tight bonds. So Herr Zebedee set out on his tour of the hotels ; and wherever he went he was obsequiously received by landlords and waiters, who gave him every assistance in their power, being delighted to oblige a financier of his importance. Unfortunately, they could not put him in the way of discovering Esau. Weary and somewhat impatient —for he did npt like to he thwarted--Herr Zebedee was at last fain to take a cab and explore a new series of inns of the lower order. He had been driving about for an hour, and had visited several queer hostelries without improving his luck, when, at length, close to the railway station, became to a newly - opened hotel, which had a respectable appearance, though it was small. The moment Herr Hauser had exhibited Esau’s photograph, the landlord’s wife exclaimed;— “ Ach Gott ! ja, this is the portrait of the young man who is travelling with his well-beloved bride. Meinherr, the couple are dining even now off veal-cutlets and Rhenish. Shall I take in your card V” “No ; I will go into the dining-room, and there sit down, perchance eat,” said Herr Hauser. “Pray do so, sir—a dish of sausages stewed with prunes has just come in,” answered the landlady. “ Hi, Fritz, a customer! ” Fritz was the landlord, who came forward, bowing, and ushered Herr Hauser into the dining-room. The youth he saw was a rather overdressed youth, with a double eyeglass, who was making- love to a goldenhaired wench, who was sharing with him a dish of cutlets, and it seemed to Herr Zebedee that aristocratic English education had wrough a physical as well as moral deterioration in this degenerate scion of the Hauser tribe. Pleased with himself, however, for having run the peccant Esau to earth alone, without police aid, Herr Zebedee was almost good-humoured as he advanced to the table, hat in hand, and said, with a mocking air: “Good day, nephew Esau.” “ What!” exclaimed the youth thus addressed, and he started to his feet, with disquiet depicted on his countenance. “ Sit down, nephew, sit down,” said Zebedee, forcing the reprobate into his seat with gentle violence ; we are going to have some talk, and ” (here he lowered his voice) “if you try to escape, I shall hand you over to the police.” “Ach, Gott! wir sind vind verloren,” “ Ach, Gott ! wir sind verloren,” ejaculated the female, and forthwith began to weep over her cutlets.

‘'Kellner,” said Herr Zehedee, '' brinyr me a dish of sausages and prunes with a halfbottle of Rudesheim.” He divested himself of his hat, his overcoat and stick, and rubbed his hands with sarcastic glee as he looked at his nephew and whispered: “Esau, thou art a knave ; thou ghu.lt restore to me the securities thou hast stolen, and this very night thou shalt start for Bremen, on thy way to America.” “Mercy !” prayed Esau, who saw that concealment Was useless, and so elapsed his hands. “ Mercy !” whimpered the damsel; do not separate my Esau from me.” “Ye shall have four thousand pounds to start with, and ye may both go to the devil,” said Herr Zehedee, helping himself to a cutlet pending the arrival of the sausages. “What, only four thousand pounds?” said Esau in seeming consternation. “ Only four thousand''” echoed themaiden, who always repeated what Esau said. “Four thousand pounds is enough to make millions with, as thou wouldst know if thou wert a true Hauser,” exclaimed Herr

Zeb6dee, as ed6n as he could speak; for the wrath and the veal that were choking him. “Ah, out upon thee ! I’ll give thee a bill at ninety days for the money, and if thou wautest cash, I’ll discount it for at the current rates.” “ No, that won’t do,” said Esau. “ I’ll take it to be discounted elsewhere'; and I’ll spread it about that thou art badly off in thy business, since thou can’st not avoid sharp practice. ” “ Ah, well, thou hast some of the Hauser blood in thee, after all,” conceded Zebedee, with involuntary admiration ; “ bub I wjll nob hobnob with thee, for thou art a clumsy knave.” That night the ten o’clock brain from Cologne to Bremen, carried with it Esau and his fair partner. They had four thous/*id pounds in notes and gold with them ; and in exchange for this trifle, as they were pleased to regard it, delivered up, not without difficulty, all the securities stolen in London. They formed a bundle big enough to fill' a carpet-bag, which Herr Zebedee, with considerable complacency, at once forwarded to London by a safe messenger. Three days later he received this telegram : Zachary to Zebedee : You have been hoaxed. Our Esau is the pride of our bank and our home. The youth who personated him must be a clerk recently discharged from our office. He has duped you all through. The securities returned are forgeries. It was cleverly done, but we cannot allow ourselves to be debited with the £4,000 and £SOO expenses you have disbursed. —London Figaro. FROLICS OF PETER THE GREAT. From the Hale family manuscripts, which came last year into the possession of the British Museum authorities, we get a passing glimpse by a contemporary of Peter the Great, which will fully confirm the popular idea of that monarch. It is contained in a letter from Thomas Hale to his brother Bernard, “to be left at Hills’ Coffee House in Fullwoods Rents in .Houlbourne” [Holborn], dated at Archangel, the 20th of August, O.S. [old style] 1702: “ His majestie & and all the court are lately departed hence by sea, bub God knowes whether [whither] he intends ; he’s noe proud man I assure you for he’l eat or be merry with any body. He came down here to meet the Sweeds, bub they came not. Hcßs a great admirer of such blunt fellows as saylors are ; he invited all the nasty tars to dinner with him, where he made ’em see drunk that some slep’b, some danc’d, and others fought and ho amongst ’em; &in .which company he takes much pleasure. He admires English beef which has been ten or twelve months in salt, and makes his courtiers believe the water the ships bring from a long voyage that ’bis mineral! water an’ makes ’em drink it. He drove one day about thirty or forty of the top of his nobilleby, old and young, into a deep pond, where he pub two live sea-horses to them, & went in & swam & dived after them himself; the company was sadly frighted, but they hurt nobody. None of them can complain of his frolicks, since he himself is allways the first man.”

HAD GIVEN IT SOME THOUGHT.

“You see,” said the woman who is given to investigating the cause of everything in this life, “it is just tins way : Your husband is a tyrant in the house——” “The worst kind of a tyrant,” returned the woman who felt that she had a grievance. “ While mine is as quiet and considerate as a man can be,” continued the other, “ yours orders this done and that done, and wants to know why in the world you have not attended to some trivial matter.” “ He just lords it over me and tries to run the whole house.” “ While mine does practically what I say when he is home.” “ I wonder why it is.” “ I’m coming to that. Your husband has to jump around at some one’s bidding at the office. ” “ Oh, yes. He has a man over him who holds him to the strictest kind of accountability for anything. ” “ Your husband lias no authority at all ?” “ None at all ” “ That’s the trouble. A man must have authority somewhere, so your’s exercises his at home.” , “ But how about yours ?” “ 0, my husband is the man who makes your husband jump around at the office. He has so much trouble w!*>i the clerks there that he’s mighty willing to let me run things at home. You’d better get your husband in a position where he can boss some men and then he’ll let you alone. I’ve studied the subject, and I know what I am talking about.” A QUIET LIFE. Some forty years ago an English officer, travelling in South Africa, stumbled upon a small thatched hut in a secluded dell. Hot, thirsty, and fatigued, lie gladly accepted the proffered hospitality of the old man who owned the humble abode, who regaled him with all he had to offer—a draught of milk and some coarse bread and fruit. Whilst enjoying the frugal meal, he learned of his host, a man apparently between 70 and 80, the story of his life. An Englishman by birth, and brought up to a seafaring course of life, he was one of the few survivors of the crew of a ship wrecked upon that stormy coast nearly half a century before. After wandering about for some time, he at last took to himself a native wife, and settled down wherebis guest found him,and where he hoped to quietly end his days. “Here,” said the philosophic old mariner, in a halfEnglish half-Dutch idiom of his own, “ here I am happy and want for nothing. Whenever I feel out of sorts I wander up to younder bluff kopf, and look at the boisterous waves buffeting some unfortunate barque. ‘ Such,’ say I to myself, ‘ wasrny former fate in life.’ I then turn round and look dow.n upon my little cottage in this quiet and sheltered kloof ; on my sons working in the field or garden ; on my daughter, with her little ones prattling around; on my two cows and my (lock of goats. ‘Mutinous lubber !’ I then exclaim, ‘ what more dost thou want ?’ And not being able to answer the question, I return happy and contented to my pipe and sunny seat here on the stoop.” LANDSEER AND THE DOGS. An amusing incident took place during one of Landseer’s early visits to Scotland. In the course of his journey he stopped at a village, and, as his habit Mas, took great notice of the many dogs, jotting down sketches of such as took his fancy most. On the next day he continued his journey. As he passed through the village, Landseer was surprised and horrified to see dogs of all kinds, some of winch he recognised, hanging dead from trees or railings on every side. Presently he saw a boy, who, with tears in his eyes, was hurrying a young pup towards the river to drown it. He questioned the urchin, and to his surprise found that the villagers looked upon him as an exciseofficer, who was taking notes of the dogs, with a view to prosecuting the owners of such as had not paid their tax. “ With all her faults I love her still,” said a youth whose sweetheart was heiress o a brewery. May: “We never could marry without papa’s consent, Frank.” Frank; “Fm afraid not, darling, unless (brightening) the minister' would take a thirty days’ note.” Teacher ; “ Tommy Sliinson, ; 'iveyouany good excuse for being late?” Tommy (beaming); “ Yes, ma’am.” Teacher : “ What is it V” 1 __Tomiriy ; “ Waffles,” I

HOW ETHEL MISSED THE CONCERT Ethel’s Charlie had invited her to go with him to the music-hall that evening to hear the orchestra play “ Loin du Bal,” eat chicken salad, sip something through a straw, and have a good time generally. Her eyes were bright and cheeks pinkwith delightful anticipation. Ethel, dear girl, was not blase ; her pleasures and luxuries had nob been sufficient to take the zest from her appetite. She left the office at - six, being detained longer than usual, and took a car for the South End. When she reached her lodging-house she decided to go across the way to her diningroom and take her tea before dressing. Ethel drank her tea, and ate the five small strawberries that adoined, without overcrowding, her sauce-dish, nibbled the crust of a roll, then hastened back to her lodginghouse. She entered the front door, ran lightly up to her room (two flights back), meeting no one. The house was strangely quiet. Old Mrs. Wright, who occupied the second floor front, was much interested in Ethel, and generally appeared at the door of her room to bid her good evening. Nob so to-night; and Ethel secretly thanked her lucky stars, for the dear old lady was apt to detain her with a long story of ailments, or fancied slights and impositions of the other lodgers. So Ethel swept quickly into her room and locked the door. She donned fresh clothing, humming softly all the while, and went with a skip to the clothes closet for her best dress.

It was getting quite dusk in the room. She opened the door and reached quickly for her black lace dress, when her blood froze, and for a second the song died in her throat. Collecting herself she resumed her humming, brought out her dress, closing the door. Where was the key ? Oh, heavens! what would she do? W hat had she seen? Standing in the darkest corner, hidden under her skirts, she saw a gleam of patent leather and the bottom of a modish pair of trousers ! Now she realised what that strange faint odour was she scarce noticed in the hall. Chloroform! Where, oh, where was the key to that closet door ! Why was the house so still ? Should she goto the window and scream he might rush out and shoot her, and then escape before any one could come. Oh, why had she told Charlie nob to call for her—that she would save time by meeting him down town ? If she only-had a revolver ! She might .go out, locking her room door,bub that would enable the thief bo escape by dropping on the baywindow below and so to the back yard. Her determination grew strong to have that burglar if she had to watch there all night. All this time she bustled audibly around the room, humming whenever she could control her voice. Where was Mrs. Wright? Bub then she would nob dare tell box', should she come in ; such an outcry as she would raise would spoil all. Where were all the men lodgers ? Meanwhile it is growing dark. Her toilet is completed. As it progressed she noted the absence of several little valuables. The clock struck eight. Alas 1 bli ere would be no concert for her that night. What would dear old Charlie think ? Hexeyes filled with tears. She turned the gas up bx-ightly and opened her room door wide. Then taking a sheet of paper, she wrote, “Keep quiet —go for police,” wrapped a small paper weight within it, and sat down in a heart-failing, disgusted condition to wait until the bell-girl should make known her whereabouts.

There was a ring at the front door. Ethel moved noiselessly bo the head of the stairs. Presently the girl appeared, taking off her hat and gloves as site came. Ah, the landlady had gone for the afternoon and evening, so the bell-girl had improved the occasion for a little outing herself. It was Charlie in evident anxiety, asking for her. She tossed the message down, signing them to keep silence. Returning to her room, she began turning over the leaves of a magazine noisily. In five minutes Charlie returned with two blue coats." Ethel pointed to the closet and burst into tears. “Jimmy the Dude!” said one of the officers, recognising an old acquaintance as he hauled the miserable victim out and handcuffed him. His pockets were well filled with valuables. Ethel rushed to Mrs. Wright’s room and found the poor old lady recovered somewhat from her dose of chloroform, but gagged and bound, and her whole room ransacked.

She never recovered completely from the shock, and died before Thanksgiving. In gratitude to Ethel she left her five thousand dollars. Ethel bought a cosy little house in the suburbs, and the June following there was a happy marriage. 'Chough it is to be expected that a man’s clothing should be found in her closets now, still she looks every night to see that they belong to the right man. TRIED TO MAKE THINGS CHEERFUL. A West Chicago man a few evenings ago read an article in a newspaper setting forth the fact that it is the duty of every person to make it lively and pleasant for those about him. The following morning he decided to do what he could during the day to make everybody lively and cheerful. He was quite sure his wife was nob yet awake, but instead of gruffly calling her, as lie sometimes did, he decided that her awakening from happy dreams to stern realities should be rendered as pleasant as possible. When he reached her room she was sleeping soundly. He thought it would be fun to take a hair-brush that-was lying on the dresser ami tickle her cheek till she awoke. When she opened her eyes she did it with a suddenness that surprised him. At the same instant she threw her arms up with such force that the brush was driven through the mirror of the dresser. Still he reasoned that this was only an accident likely to occur to any one. After breakfast he went to the station to catch a train for the city. It was raining. He saw Jones stand his dripping umbrella in a corner while he tied iiis shoe that had come unfastened. It would be a good joke to bake his umbrella just for a minute. When the man, who turned out to be not Jones, but a stranger resembling him, had tied his shoe, he reached for his umbrella, but it was not there. Our cheerful Chicago man placed it in the hands of the stranger, and said : “1 beg your pardon. I really mistook you for another man. It’s all a mistake, I assure you.” “ Oh, I understand,” said the stranger, as he recovered his property. “ Mistakes concerning the identity of umbrellas occur frequently on a rainy day.” And everybody felt sorry for a man who was caught stealing an umbrella.

Throughout the day the man who desired to make it pleasant for everybody met with several minor repulses, but he did not despair. On his way home in the evening, when the shadows were gathering, he saw his neighbour walking just in advance of him. It occurred to him that he would slip up behind his neighbour, and putting, his hands over his eyes, make him guess who it was. That very morning his neghbour had read about some one being held up and robbed the night before at the very same place. The joke proved to be a deplorable failure. The joker no sooner attempted to put his hands over the neigh hour’s eyes than he was knocked down by the latter, who held his face hard against the pavement while he called for the police. Later on matters were explained, and the joker returned home with a disfigured face and a determination to let this sorry old world amuse itself henceforth. Anxious Parent: “Doctor, my daughter appears to be going blind, and she is about to be married.” Doctor: “ Let her go right on with the wedding ; if anything can open her eyes, marriage will.” Do you see the man with the big brass drum And a drum-stick in his hand ? Well, he makes more noise than all the rest, But he doesn’t lead the band.