Minor Matters.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVI, Issue X, 9 March 1901, Page 440

Minor Matters.

he Captaia a Mistake. The captain of one of His Majesty’s most imposing war-ships in Sydney Harbour has been feeling rather put tout for the last fortnight (writes “Gratia”). It appears that the bluejackets of this particular ship thought they would like to place a wreath at the foot of the Queen’s statue, on February 2, the day of the funeral. They asked and obtained the captain's jiermission. and immediately the men subscribed £'•'>. The wreath and inscription was submitted to the captain. He didn't approve of the wording of the inscription, and. with t lie admiral’s sanction, altered it “to suit himself."’ Now the men Bay that the wreath was from them, ami the inscription from them, but the alterations were not, therefore, they will not pay. The captain is belli liable, so be has been wandering about among the officers asking for contributions. These have come in to the extent of 11 7'6 from the softhearted ones, while the others are enjoying the situation. + ♦ ♦ A Returned Trooper s Yarn. “And which was the closest shave you had out there?" she asked in her sweetest manner. “Oil in Durban I should say," he answered on reflection. “Durban?" she echoed, “we never heard that there was fighting there." “I should say the term ‘struggling’ would better describe it," said he; “anyway, sixteen lady-nurses got me down on my back, and 1 only broke away from them with the loss of my tunic, half mt braces, three buttons But just then, with her nose pointed in the direction that all good people hope some day to travel, she swept away and left him all alone in the corner. ♦ Set Him Again. A certain farmer in a northern settlement, where the majority of the settlers are Scotch, in the exercise of his vocation, had the misfortune to full into the river, and be drowned. His comrades tried to recover the body, but without success. Some time afterwards the body was found washed up by the title, but in a terribly decomposed state. Numerous eels had taken up their quarters in the ghastly domicile. The question now arose, who was to be the one to hrenk the sad news of the discovery to .Jeanie, the widow? The deputed one wailed upon her and commenced. "Eh. Jeanie, lass, we hae foun" pair Jock, but he’s in a terrible state, nun tit for ye to see, woman; his body is st nek fou’ o' eels!" The floodgates of the widow's grief were opened afresh on receipt of this sad news. The hearer then asked for instructions as to the disposal of the body. “Aye. mon.” said the distressed woman, “ma pnir Jock, and do ye say he's fou" o' eels, my guid mon?” “Yes." replied the interrogated. “\Veel. then," continued the poor body amidst her sobs, "ye had better tak’ a bag down ami send the bit fish up, and sot him again!" + + * Publisher and Author to Toss for XIOOO. M George M. Smith, the wellknown publisher, tells an interesting story of Anthony Trollope in the "(ornhill Magazine." The anecdote refers to the early days of that periodical. "Trollope," he relates, “came to me in Pall Mall, where we now hud a branch office, to arrange for a new serial. 1 told him my terms, but lie demurred to my offer of &20UO, and said that he had hoped for .-L’3COO. I shook my head. 'Well,' he replied, ‘let us toss for that other A'looo.’ I asked him if he wished to ruin me, and said that if my banker heard of my tossing authors for their copyrights he would certainly close my account; and what aliout my clerks? How I should demoralise them if they' susiieeled me of tossing wi.h an author for his manuscript! We tilt i>n My came to an agreement on my ♦ .•nils, which were sufficiently liberal. But I felt uncomfortable —I felt

mean —1 hud refused a challenge. To relieve my mind I said. 'Now that is settled, if you will come over the way to iny club, where we can have a little room to ourselves for five minutes. I will toss you for JE lOtHl with pleasure.’ Mr Trollope did not accept the offer.” A Good Idea. A theatrical coni|Ktny on tour seems to have hit on a very ingenious plan to draw houses. The manager publishes coupons in the local paper, and anyone presenting one of these at any part of the house gets in at half price. This draws a lot of fieople who would not go to the theatre at all. They believe they are getting the advantage of their neighbours, and that makes them use the coupons. As a matter of fact, the whole audience goes in on coupons, so they gain nothing. If they knew this, however, they would be miserable throughout the performance. db <• + Gas at 3d por Thousand Cabin Feet. In the present session of the British Parliament [lower is to be sought for the carrying out of a huge scheme for the manufacture and supply of fuel gas iti the Midlands. The gas, which is called Mond gas. after its inventor. Dr. Ludwig Mond. is produced from a cheap form of bituminous coal or slack, suitable for use in large gas engines, which arc now being manufactured in considerable numbers, and it is reported that experiments which have been made show that, by means of power obtained in this way. electricity lie generated for not less than one-twentieth of a penny per unit at. the switchboard. Fnim particulars which have been published in the “Gas World." it appears that in the part of the Midlands in respect of which Parliamentary , powers are sought, the charge for the gas is not to exceed 3d per thousand . cubic feet if the quantity taken per quarter is not less than 1.000.000 cubic feet, and that for smaller quantities the charge is not to exceed -Id per thousand cubic feet. The gas is to be supplied for motive and heating purposes, “or for any other purpose to which such gas can be applied, but not for illumination." Even with this restriction, the introduction of this gas might make a big inroad on the business of the existing gas undertakings, ami on that account it is likely to meet with strong opposition. The capital is set down at £ 1.000.0u0, while Harrowing powers are asked to.the extent of onethird of the paid-up capital. ♦ ♦ ♦ What Ke Might Have Lost. The following took place in the Pietermaritzburg Military Hospital, where some wounded Boer prisoners were being treated: — Wounded member of Blake's IrishBoer Brigade, recognising sentry, who has just come on duty: "I think we have met before!” Sentry (laconically): “Yes, at Pieter's Hill." Irish-Boer: “That's where I lest my valuable pouch ami money." Sentry: “And if the blessed Major hadn’t stopped me you'll have lost your valuable life.” The Model Lodger.' He is a quiet gentleman. A smile is permaneufiy settled on his clean face. He wipes his boots on the mat before he walks upstairs. He pays high board, and has few friends. He leaves his boxes unlocked. He takes in a newspaper, and is not in a hurry for it in the moaning. He is never out later than ten. lie shaves with cold water. He never adds up a bill. He is fond of children. He likes to buy them sweetmeats, and to take one occasionally to the theatre. He never has supper. He never dines at home. He lends his liociks cheerfully. He is in doubt about the exact number of his shirts. He rarely rings the

bell. He pays for extras without a murmur. Rather likes music. Does not object to a flute ami piano playing different tones at the same time. He is never in arrear with his sent; If it is not paid the very day it becomes due. the reason is liecuuse he has jiaid it the day liefore. The model lodger is sheepish, rich and contented. + + ♦ Two Now Dog Yarn*. Dog yarns were going round at the station one night. Most of the hands had heard of Jim's dog Paddy, which used to keep tally for him while counting sheep by barking the required number of times, and scratching a mark on the ground every time Jim sang out “hundred." at the same time keeping the sheep up to the gate for him. “He never made a mistake in the tally." said Jim. as he once more told the story. Then Harry Nicholson chipped in. "I bad a rather clever little fox-terrier when I was living in Melbourne. He usrtl to come in every morning when 1 was having breakfast, and I gave him something to eat. One morning he came in as usual, hut I was talking to father, and didn't attend to him. After a time he trotted into the garden, and returned with something in his mouth, which he laid at my feet, and called my attention to by pulling the bottom of my pants. What do you think it was'? Why. a sprig of forget-me-not. He must have heard my sisters talking about the flower and its meaning. Yes, he was a elever little chap in his way, though lie didn't come up to Jim's dog, “Who's going to lend me a pipe of tobncco?” * * * Another Dog Story. As for dogs. I am moved to speak of the courtesy of one I know, says another writer in an Australian contemporary. Of the way he acts when f give him a bone or a scone that he really does not want. It bores him to take it. yet he does so with faint tail waving* and bright eyes that simulate gratitude. If you slay to watch him he'll make a pretence of getting ready to eat it. He'll sit down with the prey between his paws, and give it a lick or bite off a crumb, then he'll cast a I-begthat-you-won't-stay-uln-my-account glance at you, and you say, “I can see that you are not hungry; give me back my bone." But he protests with eyes and tail, “O, yes I am—you couldn't have given me anything I wanted more, but it's so nice I'm just taking my time," then he holds the food between his teeth, and casts an entreating- "get-off-the-grass-do" look at you. If you decline ail hints he'll trot away, smiling back at you. and [ranting as if io say. “I'll carry it round under the trees, and enjoy it there." You will go where yon can watch him through the Venetian blind slats. What a change of muzzle you see. He is looking so bored, and stretches himself, his forehead is puckered, and he looks down at the food in a bothered way. Anon he gazes vacantly up at the treetops, then over his shoulder. He'll have to bury it—and the day is so hot for excavating. lie would just leave it anywhere in the yard but for fear of offending you. He yawns, and his eves rest on the blind from where you peer. If be sees you for certain you cannot but blush a burning blush. It's an awful thing to lie “found out’’ by your dog. But he has only got a suspicion. Jf he's eventually convinced that you are there he'll eat that food to the last crumb—just so as not to hurt your feelings. If after hard scrutiny he decides you are not there he'll go and bury it where you planted seeds a while ago. The mind of a man, the mind of a child, have been liberally written up--but no one has got behind the mind of a dog. + -t <• Marie Corelli. Miss Marie Corelli is a fearful and wonderful example of what woman may do in the paths of literature if she refuses to profit by the adviee offered her by critics, and will learn nothing by experience or observation When she first began to write her work attracted more or less attention because of the really remarkable imagination that she undoubtedly possesses. Her faults were unmistakably feminine —over excited diction, repetition. exaggerated types of thought, iind an inability to see things in true

proportion. Still the seed of some* thing iietter was there, although m danger of bring choked in the profusion of chaff. No less a critic than Mr Andrew Lang deemed her work worthy of his attention, and probably believing that in such cases the knife is the surgeon's best remedy he proceeded to give her a good ileal of wholesome. if severe, adviee. Hud she followed it Miss Corelli might have developed into a novelist worthy of [the success she has attained its a writer of mere balderdash, combined with some startling and original thought. But Miss Corelli believes herself above rhe notice or need of criticism. In her recently published “Master Christian" she relieves her mind of a good deal of hatred of mankind. apropos of his denial of woman's superior genius. Such a spirit as this never wins the laurel leaf, and although her hooks sell by the thousands it is not because they are specimens of good work. The general public is attracted to anything that is weird or out of the ordinary, bad or good.