Personalities.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 413, 14 April 1904, Page 2

Personalities.

THE QUEEN'S STOCKINGS. PRETTY etory, which sounds ©M® very mach like one of Hans aO& Andersen's, is told of Qaeen Marjjherita of Italy and a little Roman girl. One day the Qaeen wbb walking in one of the suburbs of Rome when she noticed a pleasant-looking little girl and stopped to talk with her. Daring the conversation her majesty asked the child what she could do in the way of needlework. * I can knit stockings, signora,' answered the girl. 'Do you know who I amP' aeked the Qaeen. «Yes, signora, you are the Qaeen,' ' Well, then, make me a pair of stockings, and send them to the palace as soon as you have finished them.' When the stockings were sent to her, Qaeen Margherita in return dispatched to the child a pur of beautiful rose coloured stockings, one of which was filled with sweets, while the other coatf - sedmoaey. The next day her Majesty received the following not) from her little friend: * Signoba,—Your present has caused ma no end of tears. My father grabbed the money, my big brother took all the sweets, and as to the stockings—why, mother put them on herself!'

COSTLY MORGANATIC MARRIAGE The morganatic marriage of the Grand Duke Paul Alexandrovitch with Mme. Pißtolkors has resulted not only in his exclusion from the Russian army, but also in the loss of his allowance &b Grand Dake, which amounted to nearly 9G0.000f„ and the dismissal of his household. He will now only havo quite a moderate income, and even this may be placed under the control of trustees. The statement made in certain quarters that the Grand Dake'a children by his marriage with the late Princess Alexandra of Greece would be placed under the guardianship of the King of the Hellenes, is, according to a message from St. Petersburg, dated Sih December, incorrect, as they will be entrusted to the tare of the Grand Dake Sergius, elder brother of the Grand Dake PauL

LOBD CHARLIE'S BUGGED WIT. Lard Charles Beresford's wit; is of a rugged, seafaring kind, somewhat lacking that Cheeterfieldiaa grace which characterises the wit of the modern raconteur.

Here is a Btory which illustrates this contention as applied to the famous admiral, and which is being told down in circles Piymoutbi&n : Lord Charles on one occasion was breakfasting in a Bmall hotel fax out in the country, and accidentally he upset a cup of coffee over the clean white tablecloth which the good lady of the house had dug up from her most sacred linen cupboard for the benefit of the British admiral. Unfortunately, the upsetting of the steaming coffee also upset the good lady's temper, and she sonndly rated Lord Charles for his want of tact.

' It's a good thing for you,' she said, ' that the coffee has not left much stain on my cloth!' 'lt was too weak, ma'am/replied the admiral. 'You'll have to stain your coffee before you can expect to stain your table-linen. Use more beans, ma'am; use more beans 1'

ROOSEVELT HAD THE ADTANTAQE. Everyone knows that the hand-shaking craze has reached a pitch of absurdity in America, for when a man is called upon to shake hands with something like 20,003 people the thing goes beyond a joke. But the strenuous President Boosevelt is now a trained hand-shaker, and a few thousands before breakfast give him an appetite for his morning meal. Daring his recent tonr round the States he happened to strike a small town in the West where the people, one and all, insisted on shaking his hand. But. one there was who was indifferent to the Presidential honour. All the morning 'Bill' Graham had been toasting himself and his friends in good red wine j consequently, when he saw the mob of excited cowboys and townsfolk wildly shaking their President's hand, he understood little of what was taking place. He, however, sidled towards the scene, and before he knew what had happened the strenuous President had gripped him by the hand and shaken it freely. •My friend,' said Riosevelt, 'l'm delighted to see you!' 'Thash all right, pard,' said the one who toasted} 'but, b'gosh, yer got the advantage of mel' PADEKEWSKI TELLS THIS BIORTJ It is said that Paderewski, the great pianist, takes an especial delight in telling the following story against himself. Curiously enough, his fiist introduction to London society coincided with the sudden popularity of a certain song, which, just for the moment, we will keep dark. The great man heard his tune everywhere. The organs played it in the streets, bo did the bands, German as well as English, and everybody whistled it who could master that accomplishment. It seemed to Paderewski; that people took a furtive delight in whistling it at hia approach, and to connect it in some way with his personality." The strange thing was that he failed to learn the name of the tune. If be asked anybody what it was' they politely changed the subject, nor could he bring the conversation back to it. • It became so overpoweringly familiar at last—for he could not turn without his ears being smitten by it—that he finally cornered a small boy who had whistled the perpetual harmony in front of him in the street. * ' What is the name of that tune which you are whistling P' be asked theurohin. ' Gain 1' said the boy, ' who're yer gittin' at ?' 'Tell me the name of the tune,' persisted Paderewski, ' and you shall have this sixpence.' He produced the money as an earnest. The boy took it and pocketed it. ' I s'pose you're kiddin' me about the tune,' he said; 'but, if yer ain't, it's— Git yer 'Air cut!' MADAME PATTI'S PIBST SONG. At Craig-y-Nos Castle Madame Patti will often dive into her storehouse of reminiscences for the benefit of her guests, and will laugh over each in turn with all the Best of one still a child in years; for, like moat women of Italian parentage, Madame Patti will ever remain a child in heart. It was not long ago that, questioning her on those bygone times, Bhe told a friend of hers a story in her own pretty, spontaneous fashion. ' Ton ask me,' she said, 'what 1 can first remember. Indeed, I hardly know;.but I can, at least, repeat all that my parent? had to say to me from my cradle upwards. My dear mother declared that my first cry was a song in itself. ' Let me see, how can I picture myself t I think the picture must be of a tiny girl, with pale face and very, very big blaok eyes, trundling a hoop. Whatever I did I always put my whole heart into it. I am not sure that hasn't been the secret of my success all through life.*

Pure charcoal mixed with a little honey and taken after meal* is said to bean in* valuable cure for indigestion,