CONFESSIONS OF AN ORANGE EATER.

Waikato Times, Volume XLIII, Issue 3501, 1 December 1894, Page 5

CONFESSIONS OF AN ORANGE EATER.

Bo 1 like 'em? I should think I did When I takes a bit a 'oliday I don't stop eating of 'em all day. There's Bill- e's just the same. When we goes out together—well, you cduld track us down by the peel as we throws about!—you could—straight.! / " Look' ere! Bill and me 'ad a bout- % ing last Sat'day. "We stuffed our blessed pockets that lull that you could'nt put another one in to save yer life. Thea we starts a-eatin' of 'em as we walks along the street, droppin' the peel on the pavement as we goes. People slips on it ? 0' course they do. Why, that's half the fun, We could 'ear 'em slippin' and fallin' every now and again behind us, And they do use bad languidge, some of 'em—- ' the men! * " There's another josser down!" shouts our Bill, and I turns round, and there was some old City toff a-lyin' on his back with a crowd around 'im. Me and Bill did larf to hear the old fool groan. " Rub it in, old man !" says Bill " It'll teach yer to look where you're goin' next time," What's the use of 'aving eyes, I always says, unless you use s em ? Some silly folks when they sees a bit o' orange peel on the pavement stops and kick it out o' the way.' More fools they ! It only spoils people—that's what it doe?," , Well, a few minutes after we sees a blind man acomin' along, "See 'ere," says Bill, a«dropping two or three nice bits on the ground, We steps aside to see ! the fun Bless yer! It would a' done yer eyesight good to see 'is legs go in the air, and 'is beard what 'ad " Pity the poor blind" on it go a-living through a shop winder.' The dog, he got kicked into' the road, andakeb run over 'im. "Sarve } im right!" says Bill, "What's the use of a dog what can't steer yer dear of a bit o' orange peel ?" The fun we 'ad that day I shall never forgit! I give yer my word. At night we goes to see the play, boon as ever we gits into the gallery we pulls out the oranges, There was two young gals asetiin' on one side o' me—looked like dressmakers, or something 'o the sort—' and they got turnin'. up their little noses and pullin aside their frocks as if they, was a fraid I should do 'em any 'arm They fairly put my back up, sd I bites 'arf the peel off of a nice juicy one, makes a little 'ole, and then gives a good squeeze —accidental like— and sends a beautiful stream right across 'em, same as you might with one o' them sqirts they calls •" ladies' tormenters." They began to cry, and said'as 'ow I'd spoilt their best frocks; but I told 'em , "Accidents will 'appen, and if gals wears their best frocks to the the-ayter, they must expect to git 'em spoilt." Says I, " If you 'adn't made no remarks, you wouldn't 'a' made me nervous, and it wouldn't 'ave 'appened." When the play was over, Bill leans over the gallery rail and 'says, «' Look 'ere Any! See that old toff a-brushing of 'is 'at in the pit ?" As he says the words, he takes a big orange what he'd just peeled and drops it, splosh ! right on the gent's! bald'ead. I thought I should V died o' larfitv' Goin' 'orae, we gits into a railway car. riage. There was two old ladies there, and when me and Bill begins a-suckin' our oranges they staits a-snifhY, and one says to the other, " I do wish as. 'ow people wouldn't eat orauges in public." Says I, -'Marm, thi3 ain't no public, but if you : d like a drop o' something strong, you're wslcome to what's in this—" and I offered her a small bottle, which I took out o'my pocket. Hang me, if she didn't lot fly at rae and call me all the names she could set 'er tongue to. So Bill he takes a pip and squeezes it between 'is finger and thumb—Bill's wonderful clever at that trick—and it flies and'its the old gal straight in the eye. Lor','ow she did jump! She says somethink struck 'er, and Bill says, 1 "P'r'aps 'twas a cinder, marm." She 1 believed it was, and they both got out at the next station. Jist as the train was beginning to move, Bill pops 'is 'ead out o' the winder and sees a swell runnin' along the platform to git in. Always up to 'is larks, he chucks a bit o' orange peel on the step o' the next carriage-right under his feet, as yer may say. The bloke puts 'is foot on it, and away he goes, 'ead over 'eels, right under the blessed train. They stops the injun, but when they picks 'im up'e was as dead,as a door-nail. Bill says, "If 'e ain't'jist like a jam tart what's been trod on." Well, I tell yer straight, I was sorry that bloke had been so careless, It fair spoilt my supper. If folks will try to get into trains when they're movin', what can they expect ? Bill says: " Come and 'ave a wilk, and you'll be all right." I says: "No, Bill; I likes a lark as well as anyone, but when a pal upsets my stummick as you've done, I calls it unkind," Eh? Yes, you're right. You've jist 'it the. right' nail on the 'ead. That's what I am—a man with a 'eart.-Ex-change.