A NEW BOOK OF ANECDOTES.

Western Star, Issue 2220, 8 July 1898, Page 6

A NEW BOOK OF ANECDOTES.

Mr. Howard Paul hai brought out a book of reminiscences which is both new and entertaining:. l>in»er shows many celebrities at their best —the circumstances make eve n mediocre talkers almost brilliant at times—and Mr. Howard Paul's book is a volume of anecdotes concerning people with whom he hns dined. Few men have dined with more notable people, literal y, artistic, dramatic, political, musical, and eccli siasticnl, a»d Mr. Paul knows how ro turn a stery well. Here, for example, is a glimpse of Charles Keade after he had read an attack oil bis work by a critic : " I called on him one dny, and ho had in his bands a copy of a journal which contained an attack on a play he had written and which had been produced the night before. His eyes werft aflame, and before he hardly said, ' Good morning,' he burst forth, ' Now, hear this idiot. Did you ever listen to such inconceivable bosh, such utter absence of logic and ordinary critical perception ? ' And then he read a passage of the article. ' Upon my soul, these fellows who L'.ill tin mselves ciitics haven't the most filamentary notion of their vi cation. How they get pitchforked into their positions with Iheir ignorance, prejudices, and want of scholarship passts my comprehension.' Then he threw the paper down, heaved a deep sigh, and turned to other topics." Here is another story of Reade. When in Paris on one occasion Reade accepted an invitation to dine with Paul, the only other guest being Letty Lind.

" When the dinner iv»s over, Mr. Reade, it was noticed, solemnly rose, and gi'ing to a corner of the room took something wrapped in a paper out of his pocket, and must have munched for quite five minutes. On rejoining his friends he w*s asked what he had been doiwg.aud replied, ' Wtll, my dear friends, I'm not a conveiition;i 1 person ; in fact, some of my friends who know me well say I'm a bit eccentric—perhaps 1 am. I'll tell you what 1 was eating. In coining here 1 passed through the Hue St. Honoie, and saw in a window seme lovely baked apples. If there is anything in this world 1 love it is baked apples. I purchased four, and I couldn't resist demolishing them, so I retired to a quiet corner to have my little feast. Pardon me, won't you. Miss Lind ? I know Paul will, because he's a dab at baked apples himself when he gets a chance at them.' No more was thought about the incident, but it was funny to see the great stalwart man stand in a corner like a punished boy and eat baked apples !" A neat impromptu by Henry J. Byron is worth giving : —" A' ll ot " le ' as * * ) ' nie ' " let Byron before his death he bad been to the wedding of a frit-nil of his, a Air. Day, who married a lady named Alice Week. We were dining at Blanchard's Restaurant in Regentstreet, and be had just written! a couplet to send to the happy pair, and knowing how much I *ppr< ciated his wit he handed it to me to read. I copied it on a slip of paper, and it struck me as being particularly happv. It went: — A Week is lost, a Day is gained, The loss we'll ue'er complain ; There'll soon be little days enough To make a w«ek again !"

Mr. Paul gives a little light on Sir Arthur Sullivan's methods of work. Me was asking the composer it he was a rapid worker, and received the reply : " That depends. When the fever is on me, and the subject excites my fancy, I can turn out four number* a day. On the other hand, I have spent a week over a single song, setting it over and over ngiin until I felt the melody interpreted the story of the words. 1 have thrown in the (ire dozens of tunes that might have been used as 'pot-boilers,' and sold to the music shops on the strength of the popularity of my name. But into the flames they went, and they can never rise up against me. There was a song, ' The Merryman and the Maid,' that gave me infinite trouble, 1 really hrlieve I spent a fortnight over tint blessed jingle, and must, have set and re-set it a dozen times before 1 was content