TOO LATE.

Western Star, Issue 2220, 8 July 1898, Page 5

TOO LATE.

I had been talking with the coloured man at the office of the oil mills for some little time when a tall and ancient looking darkie wearing a battered plug-hat and shoes badly run over at the heels came up, turned in from the middle of the highway, and observed : 4 1 reckon yo' knows mos' of de folks around yere?' 4 Reckon I does, sab,' replied the porter, aB he drew himself up very stiffly. 'My name am Thompson—de Rev. Moses Thompson, from Gordon's Oo'ners, 'leben miles souf.' 4 Yea, sah.' 4 Did yo' happen to know a pußson yere named Perkins—Sam Perkins?' 4 1 did, sah. Yo' mean the Sam Perkins who dun died las' fall ?' 4 Yos. I understand he left a widder.' 4 He did, sah—a widder an' fo' chillen.' 4 lfurder understand,' continued the Rev. Thompson, as he rubbed hia hands together, ' dafc the widder am a werry 'spectable pusson.' 4 Yea, air, she am.' ' An' de fo' chillen am mighty nice chillen.' 4 'Zactly, Bah—'zactly.' ' An' I am toled dat de huaband left 2,000 dollars life insurance I' * He did, aah, an' I'ze aeen de money wid my own eyes.' 4 Hu! Just sol Oould yo'—dat ia, would it be axin' too much—dat is, could yo' p'int me out de house whar dat widder am residin' jist at present ?' ' Yo' am too late I' answered the porter as he solemnly shook his head. 4 Too late fur what?' 'To git dat widder and her 2,000 dollars. She haa dun bin scooped in V 1 Why, her husband haa akaasly bin dead fo' months 1* 4 'Zactly, sah—zactly; but he had skassly bin dead fo* weeks when de undersigned laid hia heart at de widder's feet an' was 'cepted, and we was dun married three weeks ago. Ole man, yo' make 22 pussona who hev bin around yere to inquar about dab widder. She am well. She am happy. She weighs ober 200 pounds an' am gainin' on dat. Was dere anythin' mo' yo' wanted to ax about befo' yo' took de middle of de road to walk dem 'leben miles back to Gor don's Oo'ners Y 'No, sah—no, sah—nuffin mo', aah—nuflin mo' 1' hurriedly replied the good mau ; and he pulled down hia hat, drew a long breath, and Btarted up the dusty road on a dog trot, which soon carried him out of sight.

THE LAST STRAW. A deaf old lady walked into a large general ahop recently and asked for a pennyworth of soap. 4 We don't sell a pennyworth, said the polite shopman. 'Yes, I want the yaller kind,' replied the old lady. 1 You don't understand me, madam, said the shopman. • I said a penny will not buy any aoap in this establishment. 'Sure enough,'replied the aged customer, ' soap isn't what it used to be in my time—they put too much rozum in it these days.' ... .. ' Good gracious f exclaimed the now distracted shopman, in a stage whisper ; • will you just hear this, old lunatic V Then, placing his mouth to the dame's ear, fairly screamed: 'Wo don't Bell a pennyworth of soap here.' • Yes,' said the old lady, ' you may put it up in paper and tie a string around it, if you like.' 'The man rushed to a box, took out a bar of soap, and almost threw it at the poor old woman, exclaiming : ' Take it and git! you old Haridan of thunderation!' The old lady carefully laid her penny on the counter, and as she did so, remarked to the shopman : 'You're the politest and accomadatinest young man I ever seed, and give extry Jood weight. I'll be sure to call again when I want some more soap. Good morning, sir.'

A. JOB WIV NOWT TEE DEE. Ay, like iverybody else, aw's sick ov mi job, an" wadn't kare how sune aw was dune wiv it. Wark, at its best, is vairy annoyin' tiv a lazy chep, an' as aw myek nee prefession ov assiduity, so aw kannifc be blaimed ef aw chuse a job where there's nowt te dee, the hardest work aboot 't bein' te draw the munney. So sum rich sinecure wud sute me vairy weal. Ef ye hey onny sic jobs just let me know aboot't, for aw think aw cud dee nowt weel. Failin* in this, aw divu't mind sayin' that aw'vo nee objection tiv joinin' the Civil Sarvice. Fully one-third of the female population of France labours on farms.