Anecdotes and Sketches

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 4, 25 January 1908, Page 44

Anecdotes and Sketches

MISTOOK ITS PURPOSE. A very mild north of England vicar had for some time been displeased with the quality of the milk served him. At length he determined to remonstrate with his milkman for supplying such weak stuff. He began mildly: “I’ve been wanting to see you in regard to the quality of the milk with which you are serving me. “Yes, sir,” uneasily answered the tradesman. “I only wanted to say,” continued the minister, “that I use the milk for dietary purposes exclusively, and not for christening.” 4 4 4 NO LONGER WANTED. David Belasco was being congratulated on the success of his new G.A.R. drama. “Writing plays is risky business,” said Mr. Belasco. “Past triumphs don’t count He who has written twenty superb pieces is just as likely to be damned on his twenty-first piece as any tyro. “There was once a playwright who sat in the front row at the first night of a new piece of his own. This piece failed. It failed dreadfully. “As the playwright sat, pale and sad, amid the hisses, a woman behind him leaned forward and said: “ ‘Excuse me, sir; but, knowing you to be the author of this play, I took the liberty, at the beginning of the performance, of snipping off a lock of your hair. Allow me now to return it to you.’ ” —“New York Tribune.” ♦ ♦ ♦ HE WON OUT. A curious person of a certain town, who loved to find out everything about the new residents, espied the son of a new neighbour, one morning, in a doctor’s office. “Good-morning,” he said. “Little boy, what is your name?” “Same as dad’s,” was the quick reply. “Of course, I know, little boy, but what is your dad’s name, dear?” “Same as mine, sir.” Still he persisted: “I mean, what do they say when they call you to breakfast?” “They don’t never call me; I alius gets there first.” 4 4 4 WATER SPREADING FIRE An amusing instance of ignorance of the properties of carbide of calcium occurred recently on a quay at Algiers. Five tons of carbide had been placed near a quantity of inflammable material, which suddenly caught fire. The firemen, instead of removing the boxes erf carbide with hooks, smashed them, and then turned water upon the contents. The result was a great development of acetylene, gas and a destructive fire, which might have been prevented by a little practical knowledge of chemistry. 4 4 4ALPHABETICAL. The kindergarten children are struggling with the alphabet. “Who can tell what comes after G?” asks the teacher. Silence reigns. Again the question, “Doesn’t anyone know what comes after G?” Then Carleton raises his hand. “I do,” he says. “Whiz. Gee whiz.” 4 4 4 TAKEN AT HIS WORD. Master Walter, aged five, had eaten the soft portions of his toast at breakfast, and piled the crusts on his plate. “When I was a little boy,” remarked his father, who sat opposite him, “I always ate the crusts of my toast.” “Did you like thfcm?” inquired his offspring, cheerfully. “Yes,” replied the parent. “You may have these,” said 'Master Walter, pushing his plate across the table. ,

THE LOVE STORY. (According to Robert W. Chambers.) “Leave me, I say!” “Not until you come out of that tree.” ‘•Leave me, I sa-ay!” “But, sweetheart ” “Oh, the shame of it! I shall explode.” A kaleidoscopic whirl of sticks, bark, twigs, silken ankle, snowy petticoat, twigs, bark, sticks. He went 11. “Sir, you are. on my premises.” “But, sweetheart ” “I shall call the gardener.** “Ah, my dryad!” Leave me, instantly.” “Wood nymph, listen to me.” She listened. 111. “Leave me. Do you hear?” “I will not.” “Leave me, I sa-ay!” But, sweetheart, listen ” “Why do you call me sweetheart?” “Because I do not know your other name.” “Oh, for a hatpin! Leave me, you oaf!” He left her. IV. “Kiss me.” “But, sir, I do not know you; nor you me.” “What has that to do with it?” “Why—er—that is—er—nothing, I suppose.” “Then kiss me this instant.” “Never!” “Kiss me, I tell you!” Their lips clung passionately. V. Winter had come, with snow, and all that sort of beastly thing. It was the first ball of the season. He was startled. It was she! She was transfixed. It was him! They were introduced. Bah! What an end to a romance! To know one another’s name—how disgusting! Otherwise they might have married. —Will 8. Adkins. 4-4-4-IN A HURRY. A pompous Bishop of Oxford was once stopped on a London street by a ragged urchin. “Well, my little man, and what can I do for you?” inquired the churchman. “The time o’day, please, your lordship.” With considerable difficulty the portly bishop extracted his timepiece. “It is exactly half-past five, my lad.” Well,” said the boy, setting his feet for a good start, “at half-past six you go to blazes!” —and he was off like a flash and around the corner. The bishop, flushed and furious, his watch dangling from his chain, floundered wildly after him. But as he rounded the corner he ran plump into the outstretched arms of the Bishop of London. “Oxford, Oxford,” remonstrated that surprised dignitary, “why this unseemly haste?” Puffing, blowing, spluttering, the outraged bishop gasped out: “That young ragamuffin—l told him it was half-past five—and er—er —told me to go to blazes at half-past six.” “Yes, yes,” said the Bishop of London, with the suspicion of a twinkle in his kindly eyes, “but why such haste? You’ve got almost an hour.” 4-4-4-“AT WORK.” “You say the officer arrested you while you were quietly minding you own business?” “Yes, your worship. He caught me suddenly by the coat collar, and threatened to strike me with his truncheon unless I accompanied him to the station.” “You were quietly attending to your own business; making no noise or disturlwince of any kind?” “None whatever.” “It seems very strange. What is your business?” “He’s a burglar, your worship,” said the constable.