A CONUNDRUM.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume XV, Issue 885, 21 February 1907, Page 22

A CONUNDRUM.

The Cape Town correspondent of the London L.V. Gazette in writing to that paper recently, remarks that the aggravating practical joke, which to the licensed victualler is no joke, of “When is a nigger not a nigger?’’ is always breaking out in a new place. It has been last heard of at Port Elizabeth where an hotel proprietor was brought before the magistrate for selling liquor to a native woman. The evidence was chiefly concerned with the definition of a native and the defence brought witnesses to prove that the woman was of coloured extraction. That last sentence, to the homebred Englishman, would appear to settle the question, but it does nothing of the sort, or how could such evidence serve for the defence? It really means that the party concerned was from a native stock, brought within civilizing influences, . as distinct from a native living under tribal laws and customs. But even that does not help matters, for the magistrate pointed out that it was not necessary for a person to be a pure native to come under the Act, and quoted Justice Buchanan as ho'ding that where a person shows the appearance and characteristics of a native, and proof is brought that

there is a strain of foreign blood in his or her veins, that is not sufficient for not coming within the provisions of the Act. Doctor Considine, one of the witnesses called, stated that the woman had none of the characteristics of the pure native and the accused was discharged. Which is satisfactory so far as the ending is concerned, but leaves us in as much of a maze as ever. So, as the old saying goes, “There we are, don’t you. know, and where are we?”

Of a political transaction that had a suspicious look, Senator Beveridge said one day : “Though in the thing there is nothing on which, we can lay our hand, it certain y appears fishy. It reminds me of a Washington waiter. “A gentleman, after eating a good dinner, said to this waiter: “‘I am sorry I can’t give up a tip, but I find I have only just enough money to pay the bill.’ “The waiter seized the bill hurriedly.

“ ‘Just let me add it up again, sir,’ he muttered.”

“I must insist upon order,” said the Mayor, when the crowd was becoming a little too boisterous.

“You can order anything you like,” ■was the ready response from the floor.

They were making the usual round of exhibitions. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “do look at that beautiful ‘Apollo Belvedere’ I” “ ’Sh !” she returned. “Don’t say ‘dear* so loud. Everybody ’ll know we’re just married. ”

One of our good farmers was telling on the streets yesterday a conversation he chanced to hear between a young boy in his teens and a Christian Scientist. It appears that the Scientist came across a sma 1 boy sitting under an apple tree doubled up with pain. “My little man,” he said, “what is the matter?” “I ate some green apples,” moaned the boy, “and, oh, how I ache!” “You don’t ache,” answered the follower of Mrs Eddy; “you only think so. ” The boy looked up in astonishment at such a statement, and then replied in a most positive manner: “That’s all right; you may think so, but I’ve got inside information. ”

The Simple Life: Doing your own work. . . . The Strenuous Life: Doing some other fellow’s work., The Modern Life:. Getting some other fellow to do. your work.

Overheard at the Seaside. —’’That bathing dress is simply . disgraceiul. ” “ Yes. At the opera slie at least had her diamonds on I"

From “London Opinion.” —The girl worries until she is married; then the man takes his turn. Man proposes; woman imposes. Many brides need a bridle.

Cheeky.—Maud: Did you kiss Dolly when you left her iast night?—Dick: Certainly not. Why do you ask? Maud: Oh, nothing. Only she was speaking of you to-day ,and she liked your cheek.

The teacher had been telling the class about die rhinoceros family. “Now name some things,” said she; “that it is very dangerous to get near to, and that have horns.”—Motor-cars, ” replied a little boy, promptly.

The hero of a story which has been told of Archbishop Ireland is really that witty churchman Bishop Talbot, “the Cowboy Bishop,” whose powers of repartee and whose churchly devotion made him famous among those people of whom he has so delightfully written in his reminiscent volume, “My People of the Plains.” “Where in h have I seen you?” demanded a rough looking man, meeting Bishop Taibot one evening in the crowded single street of a mining town. To which the Bishop suavely retorted, to the shouting delight of the bystanders: “What part of h do you come from, sir ? ’ ’

A man with an enormously large mouth called on a dentist to get a tooth drawn. After the dentist had prepared his instruments and was about to commence operations the patient began to strain and stretch his mouth till he got it open to a most frightful extent. < “Stay, sir,” said the dentist; don’t trouble to stretch your mouth any wider, for I intend to stand on the outside of it to draw your tooth.”

“I am afraid I am rather late, my dear, ’’ remarked the young husband nervously as he came home on the first occasion on which he had been detained at the office. “But—oh, I say ! how awfully kind of you to keep supper waiting!” “This is not supper,” said the young wife coldly; “this is the table set for breakfast.”

Mrs Thomas Johnson Smith was being married for the fourth time in the little country church in which she had been raised. The ceremony was proceeding with all solemnity until the minister reached the point—J “ Who gives. this woman to this man to be his'wife?” And a voice back in the congregation replied, “I generally do.”

She was telling a circle of sympathetic friends about the burglar scare in her home. “Yes,” she said. “I heard a noise, so got up at once. There, under the bed, I saw a man’s legs sticking out.” “Good gracious!” exclaimed one of the ladies. “The burglar’s legs?” “No, my dear, my husband’s legs. He had heard the noise too!”