After=Dinner Anecdotes.

New Zealand Graphic, 28 December 1907, Page 42

After=Dinner Anecdotes.

By

CECIL CARR.)

“Christmas,” said Ebenezer Scrooge, “is all stuff and nonsense.” Which is not true, is it? Well, not altogether. But if you were to ask some boys they would say that “stuff and nonsense” would not make a bad Christinas dinner—stuff first and nonsense afterwards, and plenty of both.

Which also applies to a good many other dinners; dinners where old boys are—boys with bald heads and white moustaches. You know the sort of dinners that 1 mean. They are quite English. The menu is in French. No one knows why. A friend of mine who studies curious trifles of this kind says that,, there are two. things which naturally are always taken as “matters of course”—one is a French menu and the other is the Derby dog. Over the menu of most English dinners might be written the motto “Stuff.” Over the toast list might be written “Nonsense.” People liKe nonsense after dinner. They like anecdotes.

The best of anecdotes is that they need have nothing to do with the subject. 1 know a man who keeps about half-a-dozen anecdotes always in stock. He can make one or other of them fit any particular toast. I heard him propose “The Army and Navy.” He said that some people took a gloomy view of our National Defences. For himself, he was an optimist. It was always best to look at the bright side of everything. “That reminds me,” he said, “of my friend Jones—Jones of Balham. His motto is that there is always something

to be thankful for. His wife is not of such a cheerful disposition. She is often annoyed at Jones’ optimism. “( hie day they were dining at a restaurant, and they had placed before them a very tough piece of veal. It was an exceptionally tough piece of veal. “ ‘Then*,’ said Mrs. Jones, ‘now I think it would puzzle even you to find anything to be thankful for in that piece of veal.’ “ ‘Not a bit of it/ said Jones, T was just at that very moment thinking how fortunate it was that we happened to meet it when it was young.’ ” Some time afterwards I was at another dinner. It was the dinner of a scientific society. This same man was present again, and he was put up to propose the toast of “Success to Aerial Navigation.” “This is a tremendous question to deal with.” he said, “but we must, make the Iwst of things, ami 1 hope you will bear with me while 1 try to make the best of it. It is such a tough subject that it reminds me of the piece of veal which was once placed liefore my friend Jones —Jones of Balham.” And out came the story of Jones of Balham again; and it was quite a hit. So much so that he followed it up with a not her: — “This story about the veal,” he said, ‘’remimls me of an anecdote which has not so intimate a connection with my subject; but if a man may not wander when dealing . with aerial navigation, when may he wander?” Whereat the men of science gave pncouraging el and "Go on!" for “after dinner” makes the whole work! kin. ami it is just as safe to play with the lions of learning when they have boon well fed as with any of the inferior animals. “This story.” he sail, “shows the danger of wandering, osppcially in flights of eloquence. I knew a clergyman who had the gift of fluency, and always preached rx tempore. Ho got carried • way sometimes by his desire to make the very most of his subject.

“He was preaching about the-Prodigal Son, and he had come to the- fatted calf. , ‘This calf, my 'friends,’ "said the preacher, ‘was no ordinary calf. This calf,,forsooth,, was a fatted calf. And, mark you, it was no ordinary fatted calf. This calf, my ’ friends, had been fatted up for years, and years, and years.’ ” ''" • ' * » * , By the way, talking of scientific societies remind me of a story of a dinner party, which was a private one. The guests were not scientific; but people, even at private dinner-parties, love to talk about things which they don’t understand, and so the conversation turned upon the wonderful scientific developments of modern times. A rather fool-ish-looking youth ventured to observe that Edison was certainly a most wonderful man. “Ah, yes,” said a charming young lady from the country, “ I quite forget for the moment what lie has done.’’ Nobody being ready with an answer, the hastes came to the rescue. “ Well, anyhow,’’ she said, “ we’ve got to thank him for the Edison Lighthouse.” Here is another dinner story. 'Two men. who had been dining so well that they could see twice as much as two ordinary men, were rather imprudently walking home by the canal bank. Very soon one of them fell into the water. This sobered him to some extent, and he began to yell out at the top of his voice:

“Hi, hi! Help, help! I cant’ swim! Help! 1 can’t swim.” The other man, who had gone down on his knees oa the bank, and was trying to steady himself by holding tightly to a tuft of grass, surveyed his struggling friend with a glassy stare. “J can’t sh-wim, either,” he said, “but I don’t make such a b-b-blooming fuss about it.” They have a more free-and;easy way out here than in the Mother Country. Eyen in the Volunteers there is a less rigid sense of discipline. When the Prince of Wales visited us there was a great Volunteer review. It was a fine show. The Colonel, who was making a preliminary inspection, was very proud of his men, when he suddenly noticed a square black blot in the other; wise perfect and unbroken line. He galloped up to the man. “Private Mclntosh,” he said, “.what the blazing blank thingummy-jig have you got there, you what-you'-may-call-it blank blank, you? ” “It's a camera, sorr,” said the man. “J. wanted to get a snapshot of the Prince. But if I’d known what language you were going to use, sorr, I’d have brought a phonograph.” But I am nervous about “language” stories. They remind me of the shock caused at a. tea-party, where I happened to be, by the . young five-year-old daughter of the house. She was brought down to the drawing-room, and was given a slice of bread and jam to keep her quiet. . She kept quiet for a time, but suddenly, in a pause in the conversation, she broke the silence with this remark: 'Oli, this is dreffle dam; the deuce is all going up my sleeve.” *-• * * Sir Evelyn Wood never misses an opportunity of talking to old soldiers. He was in a town where’he heard of a man who had formerly served under him in Egypt and elsewhere, and on retiring from the Army, had set up as a bootmaker with considerable ' Success. Sir Evelyn introduced himself as an old comrade, ami congratulated the bootmaker UfMtn his flourishing business. "After all,” said Sir Evelyn, “there's nothing like leather, is there?”, ".Well, begging your pardon, sir. but I think there is." said the old soldier. "What's that?” asked Sir Evelyn, rather surprised. "Army regulation l>cef, sir," was the reply; which was not a lout one either, considering that Sir Evelyn hap)H>ned to lie Quartermaster General of the Forces at the time.

Have you ever heard of the Dublin car-driver who was in the habit of driving too furiously? One evening he was caught in the act by'a zealous constable. „ He refused to-give,his name. . “You must give yer name,”, said the constable. “But I w'on’t give ye me name,” said the driver. “Ye’ll get yersilf into trouble, young man,” said the constable, “if ye don’t give me yer name.” “I won’t give ye me name,” said the driver.

“Now then, what is it?” said the constable. . “Ye’d better find out,” said the driver. “Sure an’ I will,” said the constable. And he went round to the side of the car, where the name ought to have been painted, but the letters had been rubbed off. “Aha,” said the constable, “now ye’ll get yersilf into worse disgrace than ever, for yer name appears to be oblitherated.” “Ye’re a liar!” roared the driver. “ ’Tis O’Brien.” * * * This is an anecdote which will always obtain a sympathetic hearing at a club dinner. At a meeting in favour of Suffragettism, Mrs. Downman was holding forth upon the low standard of intelligence prevailing among the male sex. - As sev•eral male supporters of the cause were present, she qualified her remarks. “Of course,” she said, “I am speaking generally." • “You are, indeed,” interrupted a man’s Voice, with intense feeling. There were cries of “Turn him out!” But upon its being discovered that the interrupter was Mt.’ Downman, it was thought better to prevent him from leaving until the end of the proceedings. Interruptions at meetings often add to the interest. In the County Council elections in London there were several riotous meetings. At one of these the opposition refused to hear a certain elderly, portly, and rubicund orator. He surveyed the tumultuous assembly for some time. At length he took advantage of a temporary lull in the storm. “You are very much mistaken,”- he said, “if you think to intimidate me. I’m a pretty old hand at this sort of thing.”

“You may be old, but you're not pretty,” shouted a malcontent, and the rest of the speaker’s oration consisted entirely of dumb-show and facial expression, vehement and violent, but not calculated. to counteract the, suggestion which the interrupter had desired to convey. . .. , « * * You may drag this last story into any after-dinner speech, but it will have more chance of success if nature has allowed you to safely and appropriately pretend that it was an incident which happened to yourself. * * * There is a disadvantage, though, in telling stories at your own expense. Friends show their trust and confidence in you by repeating them afterwards with kindly and generous exaggeration, tin the whole it is safer vaguely to lilx-1 all your audience, collectively. You may generally do this with impunity. I have seen respectable and pliilau-

thropic citizens thrown into paroxysms of delight, at a Charity Dinner, by the suggestion of a speaker that they were all desperadoes, bandits, and unscrupulous pickpockets in the Deserving Cause which they all had , at heart. >

• This is a story which will never be taken amiss at a dinner of Artists, Journalists, Lawyers, Doctors, Traders, Company Promoters, Politicians, or even Socialists. ' < . t.■ - -

There were two famous and wealthy London financiers, who were partners. They discovered one day that an officeboy in their' employ had been tampering with the J petty cash. One of them was so much enraged that he desired to send for the police forthwith. But the other was a calm and just man. He took a more moderate and humane view of the situation.

“Nay, nay, partner,” he said, “let us always remember that we began in a small way ourselves.”