Anecdotes and Sketches.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIII, Issue 6, 11 August 1909, Page 71

Anecdotes and Sketches.

Grave and Gay, Epigrammatic and Othe’.wisc.

A Sure Sign. ZYA ARK TWAIN, at a. dinner at the ■ 11 Authors’ Club, said: “Speaking jj 17 of fresh eggs, I am reminded of / the town of Squash. In my early lecturing days I went to Squash to lecture in Temperance Hall, arriving in the afternoon. The town seemed very poorly billed. I thought I’d find out if the people knew anything at all about what was in store for them. So I turned in at the general store. ‘Good afternoon, friend,’ I said to the general storekeeper. ‘Any entertainment here tonight to help a stranger while away his evening?’ The general storekeeper, who was sorting mackerel, straightened up, wiped his briny hands on his apron, and said: ‘I expect there’s goin’ to be a lecture. I been sellin’ eggs all day.’ ” <s> <3> <S> Trouble Averted. A Washington man, much given to long foot tours through Virginia, once came upon an unkempt and melancholy-looking person stretched under a tree, who, upon the approach of the pedestrian, immediately executed a “ hurry touch ” for a dime. Now, the Washington man had, a short distance back, been talking to a prosperous farmer, who had complained of the difficulty of obtaining labour; accordingly he said to the hobo as he handed him the coin: “ About half a mile down, my friend, there’s a farmer looking for men to help him in his fields.” The melancholy looking person bowed as politely as possible, considering his sitting posture, and replied: “ Thanks. I might er strolled down that way, accidental like.”

The Unconscious Slater. A slater who was engaged upon a roof of a house in Glasgow fell from the ladder and lay in an unconscious state upon the pavement. One of the pedestrians in the street who rushed to the aid of the poor man chanced to have a flask of spirits in his pocket, and, to revive him, began to pour a little down his throat. “Canny, mon, canny,” said a ma/ looking on, “or you’ll choke him.” The “unconscious” slater opened his eyes and said quietly: “Pour awa’, mon, pour awa’; ye’re doein’ fine.” <S> <i> <s> Identifying the Lump. When Jerome B. Fisher was county judge of Chautauqua County, New York, a damage suit came before him. The plaintiff sued for a large sum because he was injured by a street car. He was, apparently, in good health, but it was shown he had been injured, and two of the items of proof presented were a spot about the size of a man’s hand on his back and a lump the size of a walnut on his shoulder. The .plaintiff’s lawyer said a great deal about these evidences of the terrible injuries his client had received. At summing up time the lawyer for the street-car company arose. “ If the court please and gentlemen of the jury,” he said, “ we have heard a lot of talk here about this spot on this plaintiff’s back and the lump the size of a walnut on his shoulder. Do not be deceived, gentlemen of the jury, by the specious conversation of my friend. That spot on this man’s back is no more nor less than a birthmark, and as for that lump the size of a walnut on the plaintiff’s shoulders, that, gentleman of the jury, is his head.”

Same Again. In a hospital of one of the large cities of Central France, the physician-in-ehief, in the course of his round of inspection, approached a cot, and after feeling the patient’s pulse, remarked: “Hum—he is doing very nicely; his pulse is much better.” “It is as you say, doctor,” replied the nurse; “but it is not the same man. Yesterday’s patient is dead, and this one has been put in his place.” “Ah,” said the doctor, “different patient, eh? Well, same treatment.” And he walked on.

Hebrews xiii. 8. According to Miss Ruth St. Denis, whose dancing is attracting such huge audiences to the London Coliseum, there is not much to choose between the fifth-rate American provincial landlady and her English sister. In connection with this she tells an amusing story of an early experience on the road. ■She was staying at a lodging-house in a small town of some three thousand people. The landlady insisted on giving her steak and onicas every morning for breakfast. She protested, but with no result. On khe occasion of her leaving, the old lad;, produced the inevitable visitors’ book, and requested a contribu. tion. Miss St. Denis wrote, “Read Hebrews xiii., 8.” The passage runs, “The same yesterday, and to day, and foi ever.”

Meredith Letter of Praise to a Typist. One of the last letters which George Meredith wrote was to a typist, earning her own living in London, who, as an admirer of his books, had written her congratulations on his birthday. It is reproduced in the ‘‘Pall Mall Gazette.” “Dear Miss———wrote George Meredith, in reply, “the ‘poor typist’ has one of my first answers to the innumerable letters. I like to think of young women winning an independence, for that is one way to solve the problem of their position in the world—better than a marriage that is not founded on the love enfolding knowledge and respect. “May such love come to you, and without loss to your sense of independence. “We will hope that the days of the parasite woman are passing, however much they may delight a certain body of your sex, and the greater number of mine.” <?>❖<?> The Height of Insolence. The famous English divorce lawyer, Cresswell, afterward Sir Cresswell Cresswell, was a most pompous man. His manner once so irritated Justice Maule, before whom he was arguing, that the latter at last burst out with: “Mr. Cresswell, I wish you would remember that I am a vertebrate animal. Your manner to me would be insolence from God Almighty to a black beetle.” <s> <r> <S> Too Late to Pray. A High Street small boy, about five years old, was taken to an entertainment by his mother the other evening. It was 10.30 o’clock when they reached home and the little fellow waa very tired and sleepy, lie undressed quickly and hopped into bed. “George,” said his mother sternly, “I'm surprised at you.” “Why, mamma?” he asked. “You didn’t say your prayers. Get right out of that bed and say them.” “Aw mamma.” came from the tired youngster, “what's the use of wakin’ the Lord up at this time of night to hear me pray!**