After Dinner Gossip.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue VIII, 23 August 1902, Page 460

After Dinner Gossip.

A Writer and an Hdltor. Writers who send unsolicited contributions to magazines give more trouble than they are aware of, and it is not to be wondered at that they are sometimes treated with scant courtesy. An editor is human, and there are moments when the burden he carries is so heavy that another strfw, in fhe shape of an illegible manuscript, is likely to make him break down. None the less, we sympathise with the hero of the following story. He is very young, but he is beginning to get accepted, and some monfhts ago he was delighted to receive a letter from a well-known editor inviting him to call. He did so and was asked to send in stories and sketches. In the course of a few weeks he sent in several, and one of them was printed. Then there was silenee and he went and saw the editor and asked if he mi&ht have his MSS. back if they were not going to be used. It was quite a friendly interview, and the editor was in his most genial mood when he said: “My dear fellow, I will do my best to find them. The fact is I have three large brown paper bags at home, and I take manuscripts back with me and put them into those against the time when I shall have leisure to read them. They are all full, and I don’t remember into which of them I put yours.” This happened monthts ago, and the little sketches, probably quite saleable, still dwell in the brown paper bags. + 4- 4 The Prince’s Reason. A few years hence the little Prince who figures in the following story from the London “Express” will hear of the Nile ana Trafalgar and the great victories won by British merchant seamen, and will know that to be a sailor requires skill and heroism; but just now his view of this noble profession— and of hia Royal father as well—is refreshingly natural and boyish. Not long ago the Prince of Wales went unexpectedly into the Roylal nursery and found his little son busily engaged drawing on a bit of scrap paper the picture of a ship. “Well, laddie.” said the Prince, quite proud of his son’s creditable performance," “I 5 m pleased to see that you are fond of ships and sailors. I am a sailor, you knew.” “Yes, daddy,” cried Prince Edward, excitedly, “and I want to be a sailor too when I’m grown up!*

“Ah.” said the Prince of Wales, smiling, “and you want to be a sailor, do you? Because daddy’s a sailor, I suppose?” “Not because of that, I think,” said the young Prince, thoughtfully; “because I don’t like my lessons alwayj, and you needn’t be clever to be a sailor, need you, daddy?”

Such Things Will Happen. Everybody has heard of the churchgoer who complained that some unauthorised person was “occupying his pie.” Something almost, if not quite, as bad is reported ns having taken place at a parish meeting where the 'question of the propriety of holding teas in the church hall for the benefit of the organ fund was under discussion.

The debate was animated, some maintaining that it was undignified and not in good form, to say the least, to turn the church into a restaurant, while others could see no impropriety in it. “1 tell you, fe\low parishioners," heatedly exclaimed one of the latter class, “that we don’t intend to cheat anybody! The suppers will be worth all we expect to ask for them. We need money, and I contend that the end mustiflea the jeeusl”

Remarks Misrepresented. How many times in trying to make some polite speech some imp of perversity seems to twist the words as they issue from our lips, and to our amazement we hear ourselves make some remark that is quite the reverse of complimentary! “V.’hat. do you think Mrs. Brown said to me the other day!” said the mother of a pretty little girl. “Mrs. Z ,” she exclaimed, “however did you manage to have such a beautiful daughter?” I was so indignant. “But of course she meant you to be flattered,” answered her friend. “She intended to convey the idea that she wondered that anyone could have such an attractive child.” “Perhaps so,” admitted the other, “but you must acknowledge that it is capable of a most uncomplimentary interpretation.” “Oh! Mr. X..” called out a society woman, with effusion, to a young man who was passing her, “you are just the person I wanted to see. Won’t you come and dine with us this evening and go afterwards to the theatre?”

“I am awfully sorry,” he answered, pleased, however, at being’ asked, “but I have a long-standing ' engagement.” “Yes, everyone seems engaged,” she responded, with absent-minded acquiescence. “Confound that woman!” exclaimed the man to a girl who had overheard the equivocal remark, and was smiling mischievously. “At least, she needn't have told me in so many words that she had asked half the roomful before coming to me?’ •5* 4* 4?

An Up-Country Solomon. In a small town in one of the central counties of New York State lives an old German, who, because of the high esteem, in which he is held in the community, was elected justice of the peace. The old gentleman was once called upon (says the New Y’ork “Times,” to decide a most perplexing question One of his fellow citizens owned a dog which, although not very vicious, had a habit of barking at pass-ers-by, A neighbour vowed vengeance. His chance came when he was returning from a shooting trip, gun in hand. The dog ran out and barked savagely at him, and he fired at the animal. As his aiiri was bad the dog escaped, yelping,, with nothing more serious than a wounded tail. The owner of the dog had • his neighbour brought before the old justice on a charge of cruelty to animals, and the court room was crowded with the partisans of both men. The justice heard the charge, and then the defence that the dog was a dangerous animal and a menace to the neighbourhood. The old German cleared his throat and delivered the dictum: “Der man —he has been guilty of gruelty to animals.” And one side of the court room applauded the justice of the decision. “But der tog—he was a vicious tog.” And the other side voiced its approval. “I shall fine-der man fife tollars.” Another murmur in the court room. “But T viir~gif him anodcr shot at der tog.”

The Professor's Mistake. The members of a certain learned society had been indulging in birthday festivities, and when dinner and

the subsequent enjoyments were over Professor Jones started off to trudge the half-mile or so to his home. The professor is a very clever man, and noted for the keenness of his intellect.

The excitement and the unusually hearty dinner, followed by the ab-

struse discussion in which he had been engaged, had given him a headache; so, approaching an electric light post, he pressed his throbbing brow against the cool iron. Thus he stood for a few minutes. Then, feeling a little chilly, he buttoned his overcoat preparatory to .proceeding on his way home, but to his horror, when he attempted to leave the post, he found himself unable to move. A brain such as the professor’s works quickly, and the reason for his detention soon seemed clear. Evidently the current which fed the lamp above had become diverted from its course, and was passing through his body, binding him to the post in the process. Death, ghastly and horrible, stared him in the face. Gradually his backbone would become dissolved to a jelly, and while the awful process was going on he must stand there as helpless as a butterfly pinned to a cork.

In his terror he gave vent to his feelings in a mighty yell. This attracted the attention of a policeman, who hurried up, and then, shaking with laughter, listened to the professor’s explanation. When he had finished the policeman unfastened the professor’s overcoat from the post, round which he had inadvertently buttoned it. 4 1 4- 4Woman and Cats. The affection of women for cats has long been the stock in trade of the humorist. If the woman was “an old maid” and the cat a roistering fellow given to late hours and daytime snoozes, so much the better for the joker. It is time for a defence of pussy, and, incidentally, for a defence of my lady's discrimination in her choice of a pet. The popular estimate of the cat has always been based on comparison with the dog. But cats are not dogs, and whoever regards them as an inferior species of dog does both animals wrong. The chief characteristic of the cat is her intense originality. That of the dog is his teachableness and imitativeness. Whoever will know Mistress Cat must study her—not try to teach her. She does not catch human ways. As she is domesticated, protected, well fed, she becomes not the more like her mistress, but the more herself. Her personal preference is law. At a given minute she does not wish to be fondled, and repays a caress with a scratch. She chooses her own time to be affectionate.

Her habits and choices are persistent. Let her be punished forty times for sharpening her claws on the carpet, and she will continue to do so. This is trot because she does not know what the punishment means, but because she does not care. Like Falstaff, she Ims “the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking.”

Such stoical persistence, such untouched originality of impulse, such splendid characteristics of the primeval jungle, unmarred by centuries of so-called “petting,” are surely impressive.

To the woman who has patience, and who is not so anxious as a man might be to mpuld qualities to her own image, the cat will prove a more and more fascinating companion.

Intended for a Compliment. There was a family reunion at the home of little Alice's mother. Grandfather, grandmother, uncles, aunts and cousins had gathered from far and near. The child was much bewildered, and had great difficulty in remembering the new names and distinguishing the strange faces. They were all anxious to be recognised by the little one, the only child present, and her mother was proudly eager to impress all their names on her mind. . So the poor little girl was subjected to the tiresome questions: “Who is this, Alice?” “What is my name?”

At first she gave very vague replies, but soon fell into a tearful silence.

In a little while Mary, her pretty next door neighbour, came. Alice

loved Mary, and her face brightened when she saw the familar face among, so many strange ones. Mamma told Mary of Alice’s trouble in remembering her relatives’ names. “But Alice knows who I am,” said Mary, confidently. “Tell me. dear, who am I?” ‘ . “You ain't nobody,” said the child, fondly, with a sigh of relief. Mary was somewhat confused, but under the circumstances it was the highest compliment she could have received. 4- 4* 4* Wanted His Money’s Worth. They were in Auckland for the Coronation, and, not knowing the run of the ropes, wandered into a smart hotel for lunch instead of one of the restaurant s.

The meal was luncheon. The price which the old man was asked after he had ordered two meals was three shillings. “Three shillings!’’ he exclaimed.- “You don’t mean apiece?” “Yes, sir.” “Gracious!”-He thought it over a minute or two. Then he looked at his wife as if considering whether he should try to get the dreaded news past the old lady’s tympanum. Evidently he gave it up. But he did what he could. When the first course came on he leaned over and shouted in her ear, “Eat all you can, mother! I'll tell you why after a while!”