ANECDOTES AND SKETCHES

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVI, Issue 17, 28 April 1906, Page 46

ANECDOTES AND SKETCHES

JT F 1T r rED Too WELL. The late Andrew J. Dam. a wellknown hotel man, was the proprietor of a hotel in New Bedford. A number of coloured citizens interested in the formation of a military eomfkiny called upon Mr Dam, and informed him that they would be glad to form the company and allow him to suggest the name, provided he would pay for the equipments. “Congressman T. D. Eliot has fitted out a company of white men, and throughout the war they will be known as the Eliot Light Guards,” said the spokesman of the coloured men. “Well,” said Mr Dam, “if I am to equip and organise this coloured company, I shall insist that they be known as the Dam Black Guards!” The company was never organised. A MODERN CORNELIA. At the encampment of the G.A.R. in Denver this past summer, when Corporal Tanner was elected coiumandcr-in-chief, the presiding officer of the meeting called upon Mr Tanner for a speech, and .was about to introduce the commander-in-chief elect when, with the purpose of gaining a little more time. Corporal Tanner cleverly dismissed, what seemed to him, an awkward situation, by saying: “I see Colonel Ed. Hay, of Washington, out there in the audience, call on him for a few words. Ed Hay has this sort of thing on tap. while with me, gentlemen, the honour is a little too unexpected, and I’ll have to ask for time that I may better collect my thoughts.” “This reminds me,” said Mr Hay, moving in the direction of the platform, “of a story I heard the other day. A minister was called upon one night to marry a coloured couple, and in the usual brief time required to accomplish such matters, pronounced them man and wife. Three or four months later he was somewhat surprised to receive a visit from the groom, who, at the time was holding a wee pickaninny in his arms, requesting the minister to baptise the infant. “‘Well, brother, what’s the name?” he inquired. “ ‘Gawd bless ma soul, parson, ef ah ain’t dun gone and clean forgot the name for dis chile. Hit ain't no common ornery name, either. It’s de name of a precious stone, parson.’ “‘Pear!.’ suggested the minister. “‘No, twan’t Pearl.’ ■ “ ‘Ruby,’ he again ventured. “ Ruby is a very pretty name.' sighed the distressed parent, ‘but twan’t Ruby.' “ ‘But, brother,’ interrupted the minister, ‘there ain’t no other precious stones left for a child's name, there’s only the diamond, the emerald, the garnet, the onyx, the—’ “‘Stop right whar you is, parson.’ beamed the now happy father, ‘you done struck it right dis time. Onyx. Onyx, dat’s it. My wife, she says she want <lat chile called Onyx, because, parson, it came so on-expected.’ ” / A MATTER OF CHIVALRY. During the trial of a breach of promise case in Court the defence undertook to show that the prosecuting witness’ affections had not I wen altogether cornered by the defendant. There was evidence that one Roy Mailverne. had once upon « time, kissed her. without a serious reprimand resulting. Roy, a smartlooking fellow of the yeoman type, was called in rebuttal, and vigorously! denied the imputation. M. D. Campbell, •on cross examination, drowsily- asked the witness: “Roy. you didn’t steal into the kitchen where Miss M. was making batter for flapjacks and kiss her?” “No, sir; 1 didn’t.” There was a brief pause, during which the examiner looked at his half-burned eigar meditatively. The audience began to titter.

“Roy, you didn’t steal up behind Miss M. in the kitchen where she was—” “I tell you I didn’t kiss her at all!” said the witness angrily. “At no where and no time?" said the lawyer, gently. “At no where and no time!” There was another pause, as the interrogator calmly knocked the ashes off his cigar, and studied the floor. “Roy.” he said, ingratiatingly, “if you had stolen into the kitchen and kissed Miss M. when she was mixing the things for Johnnie cakes you’d be too much of a gentleman to admit it before all this crowd, wouldn’t you?” In the laughter following the mild observation, the witness failed to reach the significance of the question. “Sure!” he replied, decidedly: ‘‘‘l ain’t no Nannie tell-tale.” “That’s all, Roy, said the examiner, pleasantly; “you may run along home now.” BUT BILL WASN’T THERE. A Western Kansas paper tells of a local merchant. Bill Jones, who came to Kansas City several weeks ago to buy a new stock of goods. They were shipped promptly, and reached home before Jones did. When the boxes were delivered at. his store, his wife happened to look at the largest, and, uttering a loud cry. called for a hammer. A neighbour, hearing the screams, rushed to her assistance and asked what was the matter. Mrs Jones, pale and faiut, pointed to an inscription on the box, which read as follows: “Bill inside.” HIS SPEED LIMIT. According to the New York Sunday “World.” nearly every body in Rockland knows “Old Jim" Colby. Years ago he was a well-known lawyer, but now he picks up a precarious livelihood by doing odd jobs of trucking, with a dilapidated, ramshackle waggon and an old brok-en-down horse, blind and very lame, which he can keep in motion only by dint of much profanity and constant application of a stick. One day he secured a job to haul some old furniture to a second hand dealer’s, and in passing up Elm-street, he met a friend, who, seeing the furniture, shouted: “Hello, Jim! Moving?” “Ya-s,” drawled the old man, “just barely.” THE PARAGON*. Sam. P. Jones, the revivalist, according to “Everybody's,” about whom revolve a legion of anecdotes, was preaching in Dallas. Tex., on the rarity of a perfect life. He suddenly interrupted his discourse with the query: “How many of you have ever known a perfec* man, entirely perfec’. without any fault at all?” • He glanced fiercely at his silent audience that made no sign. Then evidently to show his fairness he asked: “Well, who's ever seen a perfec’ woman Any one’s ever seen a perfec’ woman please rise.” To the evangelist’s utter amazement a tall, middle-aged woman, whose big dark eyes set in her sallow face were fixed upon the preacher, arose from her seat on the front bench. I “Madam,” he thundered, “do you mean to tell me you’ve seen a perfec' woman that never did no wrong at all?” “Wai,” she said slowly, gazing at her interlocutor with the air of one who feels that she has the basic truth on her side and who is solemnly conscious that she should adhere to the letter of it, “wal, I eayn’t say as I ever did ’xaetly see her. but I hearn tell a powerful sight about her—she war my ole man's fust wife!”