WAIFS AND STRAYS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 43, 24 October 1891, Page 503

WAIFS AND STRAYS.

Teetotaller’s Motto.—Don’t let your spirits go down. Even the quietest wedding will be celebrated by the ring ing of a belle. Marriages are called ‘ matches ’ because they are sometimes followed by scratching. One man finds satisfaction in the thought that he is as good as others, and another in the knowledge that others are no better than lie is. We believe that it was a retired banker who, having bought a country villa, tried to hatch oysters by putting them under a setting hen. ‘ Oh, Why Should They Bury Me Deep?’ is the title of some verses sent to this office by a poetess. After reading the poem the reason seems very clear. Five pews were recently offered for sale in a New England church, and one of the advantages stated was that the contribution box was not passed to these pews. There may not be any royal road to wealth, but there is a royal road to learning. When a man gets rich the world is willing to regard everything he says as the utterances of a sage. Conclusion of a love letter :—‘And now, adorable Frieda, disperse my doubts, say you will be mine, for I cannot live without you ; above all, let me know your decision by return of post, as I have another party in my mind’s eye. Mrs Fibbins has written to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals co know if something can be done to prevent horses being scratched. She is sure it must be very painful, because her husband is quite upset, and she heats him groan in his sleep about a horse being scratched. A great, coarse man. with auburn hair (His fortune was immense). Boldly sought the maiden fair With wooing so intense That she was won. Still from afar The poet reverenced his star. And laid the blame all on her ma. (He had no better sense.) SUMMER PERILS. Just now up looms the summer girl. Her campaign’s just begun ; She’ll flirt, ana flirt, and flirt, and flirt. To her all men are one. And yet it often comes to pass That ere the frosts of fall She falls in love herself, and then To her one man is all. On a certain occasion at Indore, in Central India, a triumphal aich was put up. On one side were the words, ‘ The Governor is Coming,’ on the other side, ‘ Heaven Help Us ;’ while at a certain station in the Lerars, over the entrance of a cemetery, an arch was erected, on which was emblazoned for the edification of the expected magnate, 1 Welcome. ’ There will be published in Boston very shortly ‘ Russian Traits and Terrors : a Faithful Picture of the’ Russia of To-day,’by E. B. Lanin (a collective signature employed by several contributors to the Fortnightly lieview). This work out-Kennans Kennan in its description of the atrocities practised by the Russian Government, and includes the ode written by Swinburne in justification of tyrannicide. Victoria and Jane.—Ata recent exhibition in an English town the Queen was present, with the Princess Henry of Battenberg. The local Mayor, a highly respected tradesman, accompanied by his wife, was of the Royal party. As usual, the Queen placed her name in the visitors’ book as ‘ Victoria.’ The Princess followed with ‘Beatrice.’ Then came the Mayor’s wife, who, seeing what had gone before, wrote, with a bold, steady hand, ‘Jane.’ A Good Deal was the Matter.—A Chinese settler in Victoria who wanted to obtain a divorce has put forth the following pleas. The erring spouse, it seems, ‘ too muchey talkee with neighbours, too muchey paint face and eyebrows, too muchey drink Yulepean brandy, too muchey fight, too muchey snore in sleep, too muchey boss, too muchey dream, too muchey say, “ killum husband,” and too muchey no good.’ A lengthy catalogue truly, but we fancy the gist of the accusation lies in the ‘too muchey boss.’ As an epigrammatist once remarked, ‘ Women are all for Union—with Home Rule.’

A Guide to Good Company.—All Indians greatly dislike what they call the white man’s smell, and can detect it with perfect ease. ‘ I have,’ says a Western man, ‘entered tepees of the I tes filled with Indians who had not bathed for a year, and whose aroma rose to heaven, and every one of them would complain of the odour that I brought in with me. The same feeling is manifested by the Chinese, who themselves have a very marked odour that is intensely disagreeable to whites. As a matter of fact, each race has its peculiar odour, which is not perceptible by people of similar origin, but which is plainly noticeable by those of different blood.’

A Mixed Population.—There is probably not a civi Used roof in South Africa which covers people of only one nationality ;as a rule they are of three or four. We take a typical Cape household before us at the moment; the father is English, the mother half Dutch and half FrenchHuguenot, with a French name, the children sharing three nationalities ; the governess is a Scotchwoman, the cook a Zulu, the housemaid half Hottentot and half Dutch, the kitchen-girl half Dutch and half slave, the stable boy a Kaffir, and the little girl who waits at table a Basiito. This household is a type of thousands of others to be found everywhere throughout Africa.

‘Something Like a Tune.’—Here is an interesting story for musicians. When the Italian band of Signor Donizetti, the brother of the composer of ‘I Puritani, played for the first time before the Sultan Mahmoud, they tried for two hours to soothe the Caliph’s ears with selections from the great Italian and German composers. Their labour was in vain. The Sultan only scowled : and in the time of the formidable destroyer of tlie janissaries a fiddler who failed to please was in danger of having his neck enciicled by a bow - string of a different kind. Their instruments beingexhausted the fiddlers took to tuning their violins, with the usual horribly discordant results. * Mashallah !’ exclaimed the Commander of the Faithful, * that is indeed a tune ! Let the Giaours play it again.’