Anecdotes and Sketches.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVII, Issue 21, 22 May 1912, Page 71

Anecdotes and Sketches.

GRAVE, GAY, EPIGRAMMATIC AND OTHERWISE.

A Chance to Demonstrate. G/Y SHORT time after the concert J I began a man rose and said: r—| “Is there a Christian Scientist in the audience?” Another man rose in his turn. “I am a Chr\‘ti*n Scientist,” said he. "Then, sir,” said the other, advancing towards him, “I will ask you to change places with me, as my seat is in an abominable draught.” ❖ <•><•> Unruffled. “I ain't crying!” said little Ethel, cheerfully, from the dining-room, where she was having a late solitary breakfast. “I’m glad to hear it,” replied her mother from the adjoining room. “Why aren't you crying, my dear!” “ 'Cause,” said Ethel, as she placidly watched the contents of her overturned oatmeal bowl flowing over the table and trickling down on the floor. “ ’cause dcre’s no use crying over spilled milk.” Couldn't Understand. Janies Whitcomb Riley used to tour the country with Bill Nye in lecture courses. One night, while the two were behind the scenes in the theatre of some Eastern town, Riley got tired of waiting while Nye tried to make himself beautiful, and, tiptoeing to the drop curtain, peered out into the auditorium. He came back to Nye's dressing-room in consternation. ‘Great Scott!” ho whispered, “this is awful! There aint a pesky handful of people out there, Bill!” “1 don't know why there isn't Jim,” replied Ny.e, dreamily, continuing to “wrassle” with his tie, "we've never been here before.”

An Egotist. One evening as a family sat grouped about the library table, the little son looked up from his book and asked: “Papa, what is an egotist?” "An egotist,” the father answered, “is a man who thinks he is cleverer than any one else.” But the mother, laughing coldly, appended: "No, my son, that is not quite right. An egotist is a man who says he is cleverer than any one else—every man thinks he is.” <s><s■<?> Enjoying It. Paul J. Rainey was dining in New York—fresh from his slaughter of seven-ty-four lions in Africa. "Ugh!” said a young girl. "Killing lions! How could you?” Lion-killing is a matter of taste,” said Mr. Rainey, and then, with a laugh he continued: "Everything is a matter of taste, you know. At the Kingsway in London 1 once went to see Lena Ashwell in ‘Madame X.’ It was a matinee. Girls and women surrounded me. These girls and women wept under Lena Ashwell's spell like pumps, like fountains, like Niagaras. I was sorry I hadn't brought my raincoat. It got so damp I feared I’d catch cold. But after a while the spectacle of hundreds of weeping girls and women began to amuse me. Forgetting the damp and the discomfort, I began to laugh. 1 couldn't help it. I laughed on and on. 1 held my .sides and shook. A beautiful young girl on my right looked at me over her wot handkerchief, Inst reproachfully, then indignantly. At hist she plucked up courage to say, in a low tierce voice, broken by sobs: ‘1 wish you—you'd go away! Even if the play doesn't amuse you, at least you might—you might let those around you enjoy it.’ ”

Help From Little Johnnie. “What were you and Mr. Smith talking about in the parlour?” asked her mother. "Oh, we were discussing our kith and kin,” replied the young lady. The mother looked dubiously at her daughter, whereupon her little brother, ■wishing to help hip sister, said: “Yetli. they wath, mother. 1 heard 'em. Mr. Thmith asked her for u kith and she thaid, ‘You kin.” <?><?><?> Modern Beauty. A young man the other day said to his best girl: "1 visited that palmist this afternoon, •and lie told me l‘d marry a blonde.” The girl, who was very dark, said thoughtfully: "Did he say when the marriage would take place?” “Yes; in three months.” “Well, 1 can easily .be a blonde by that time, dear.” said the gill, with a shy smile.

An Optimist. ‘ Yes. sir,’’ rejoined Mr. Weller. “Wotever is, is right, as the young nobleman sweetly remarked ven they put him down in the pension list, ’cos his mother’s uncle’s vife’s grandfather vunce lit tho king’s pipe with a portable tinder box.” “Not a bad notion that. 6am,” said Mr. Bob Sawyer, approvingly. ‘Must what tho young nobleman said ev’ry quarter day afterwards for the rest of his life,*’ replied Mr. Weller. <&<s><s> The Real Thing. Little Dot (aged live) : “Mamina. Dick and I got married this morning.’’ Mamma: “You did. did you? Who performed the ceremony*:” “I don't know what you're talkin’ about.” “Well, how did you pretend that you were married?” “Why, I got my dishes an’ set the table an’ then we both sat down, an’ ho said there wasn’t a thing fit to cat, an’ I said he was a brute, an* then be went out an’ slammed the door.”