THEY WOULDN’T PAY.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 16, 15 April 1908, Page 49

THEY WOULDN’T PAY.

During an epidemic of influenza, which laid low the verger and churchwarden, a clergyman instructed a coachman to take the offertory one Sunday morning. “Take the what, sir?” asked the man completely mystified by a word which to him was quite unusual. “Go round with the bag and take the offertory—the collection—the money from the people in the pews,” the clergyman explained. The coachman now seemed to understand what was required of him, so off he went, and the hymn commenced. Suddenly there was an unseemly interruption, and the coachman was seen to be engaged in angry altercation with two of the congregation seated in a prominent part of the church. The minister peremptorily summoned him to the altar rails. “What is it?” he asked in consternation. “Why,” said the coachman-collector, “there’s two men in the best seats that ■won’t pay.” ♦ ♦ ♦ DID NOT WANT TO TROUBLE HIM. Little May had been taught by a devout mother to pray for any and everything. One day, having lost her pencil, and failing, after diligent searching, to find it, she slipped into the sittingroom, kneeled by the sofa to ask for help; her knee touched something hard; reaching her hand under the rug she drew out the missing pencil. Jumping up, she remarked :— “Never mind, God; I’ve found it.”

HIS TRADE WAS BAD. An old lady the other day, on being accosted by a rather seedy-looking individual, who was apparently not unknown to her, stood for the moment speechless with amazement. “But I always thought you were a deaf and dumb man,” she presently gasped. “By what marvellous power have you recovered your speech? It seems so strange to hear you speak after so many years of silence. I can’t make it out.” “Oh, it’s easily explained mum,” replied the applicant for alms. “I. was brought up as a funeral mute, but trade has been so bad the last few years that you see I’ve had to take to the road.” ♦ ♦ ♦ NO DULL TIMES WITH HIM. “Twenty pounds seems an awfully high price to pay for a typewriting machine.” said Mr. Jenkinson, who had just bought one. “It may seem so to you,” answered his friend, Mr. Hankinson, “but I have one at my house that cost nit a hundred and fifty pounds, and I don’t suppose it’s half as good as yours.” “You needn’t tell me such a ” “It’s a fact,” broke in the other. “Why, how in the world ” “Well, I’ll tell you. A year and ahalf ago I bought a motor-car for a hundred and thirty pounds. After I had paid twenty pounds for repairs, storage, fines, and other - expenses, I exchanged it for a piece of land. “The lot proved to be in the middle of a swamp, and when an estate agent of-

• Uarse and trap for it. I accepted it. “The horse >wn away one day, and smashed the trap to smithereens. 1 parted with the horse for a gold wateh. “The watch wouldn’t keep time, and I swopped it for a bicycle. I fell from the bicycle, aud put • out of joint. Then I exchange*! S*? MMDc for a typewriter.” “I see.” “And I’ve n«. for the typewriter. Do you know of anybody that would give me a good dog for it!” ♦ ♦ ♦ DISQUIETING QUIET. the luxurious ease of a millionaire, James, the butler at No. 4, lay comfortably on Uiree chairs and a pillow in the pantry at half-past four in the afternoon, reading a penny novelette. At the end of each paragraph he took a munch at his mistress’ currant cake, and at the bottom of each page a pull at his master’s brandy; but he did not hear the footstep on the stair. The seory became tender, the cake smaller, the bottle emptier — and the step came nearer. “James! ” The butler jumped up, a guilty blush suffusing his countenance. It was the mistress of No. 4. “James,” repeated the lady angrily, “how is it that whenever I com° into the I find you idling your time away, sprawled out reading a newspaper or something?” The butler glanced reproachfully at his mistress’ feet. "Well, ma’am,” he answered, “speaking broadly, ma’am. I should say it was on account of them old rubber - soled shoes!” ♦ + + SHORT. Polly, a plantation pickaninny, noted for her stammering speech and untidy appearance, was once excused from her class, and told to go outside and wash the dust and molasses off her face. On

returning from her enforced ablutions with her ebony features a shade less dirty, and dripping wet, the teacher asked why she hadn't dried her face. Polly replied: “Cou-cou’cou-could n’t.” “Why?” “Be-be-be-becaze my pet-pet-pet-petti-«*at’s so short it would-would-would-wouldn’t reach up no high-high-high-higher’n my neck!” ♦ ♦ ♦ SMELL OF GOLF. He was a solicitor of more or less repute, and his Saturday afternoon’s pursuit was golf and whisky and soda. On this particular Saturday, however, he had been detained in town. On reaching home he was met by his wife ami little daughter. “No game to-day, my dear,” he said to his wife as he picked up his little girl and kissed her. Then his daughter sniffed the air, and said: “Well, daddy, you do smell awfully of golf!’ ♦ ♦ ♦ PURELY LEGENDARY. “And are there any grim, terrible legends connected with this ancient pile?” asked the romantic tourist. “Oh, yes, sir,” replied the guide. “And what are they?” “It’s said that once, afore my time, a guide had showed a gentleman over the Castle, and the gentleman was going away without giving him any tip, when th guide pitched him from the battlements, and he was killed at the bottom. Of course, that's only a ” “Oh, thank you, sir, thank you; much obliged.” ♦ ♦ ♦ OX HER GERMAN. “Did you spend two hours on your German?*' asked the teacher of the pupil who had failed several times. “Yes, I did.” truthfully answered the maiden, who had sat for two hours on her German book while she read a fascinating novel. t