THE COLOUR LINE.

Evening Post, Volume LXXXV, Issue 33, 8 February 1913, Page 11

THE COLOUR LINE.

.An American manager received I'rom a celebrated Shakespearean actor the list of plays to bo put oh during a run of seveh days. _ " I see here ' Romeo and Juliet,' " said tho manager, running his fingoi* down tho lift, '' and 1 will stand for that. But I shrink when I think of that fellow playing Romeo. And here's- ' Hamlet.' No living man can play Hamlet as he should be played. And hero is ' Othello' 1" At this point he leaped out of -his chair and hung on the ambient atmosphere a long and lingering groan. ..."It is too much," ho cried, in anguish. "lam no fanatic. t am not a crazy man on the race question. But I'm a son of a gun if I'm going, to, .have ih my theatre .ahy black man handing out a lot of mushy talk to a -white woman!" UNLIMITED CREDIT, i "You have left the name of tho author off the programme," the stage manager ventured to suggest. - " What's . the . author's name?" asked tho manager with the thick moustache and'thd doublo chin. " William Shakespeare." "Friend of yours, eh? All right, give him all the credit there is. tut down on the programme, ' Words- and nlusic by William Shakespeare.' " John Allen went to visit an old friend at a hospital in New Orleans. The invalid was being fed on a diet of eggs and' sherry, - ahd Allen asked him how he liked it. "John," said, the friend, sadly, "it would be all right if tho egg was as new as the sherry and the sherry as old as tho egg." . A .very prominent man recently died, and shortly after a friend of. the family called to, condole with the widow. The caller had been i> very warm friend of the deceased, and as he was about to depart he asked: "Did Will leave you much?'" "Ohi yes, ' ihdeed," replied the widow, "nearly every night." Caller— You know 'there was something I '.wanted to say to you, but it has quite gpne out of my mind. I can't remem- J ber what it was. Maiden (hopefully)— lt wasn't goodnight, was it'? "What are theso society people we hear about?" asked Mrs. Comtossel. • "I dunnq'," replied the farmer, "but as near as I- can. make out, they're jes' folks that .make a regular habit o' wearin' | their' Suhday clothes every day." 1 "Now, waiter," said the new customer in a certain restaurant of the less fashionable type, ''I want an oyster stew, and I want you to give the cook partioular directions. . The milk must be carefully heated first— just short of boiling. -Then the oysters must be added without the juice. That must not bo put in until the seasoning, is added. A* for the oyfeters, 1 want Mill Ponds. Use the best milk and gilt-edged creamery t butter. Now, do you think you understand?" "Yessir," said the waiter. And he< went -to the kitchen and yelled: "Put on one!". In the smoking-car the conversation turned to the merits and demerits of various , ways of preserving health. One stout, florid man held forth with great eloquence on the subject. . "Look at mo !" he said. "Never a day's sickness in my -life, and all duo to simple foodj Why, gentlemen," he continued, "from the ag& of twenty to that of forty I lived an absolute simple, regular lifeno * effeminate delicacies, no late, hours, no extravagances. Every day, in fact, summer and winter, I was in bed .regu-' larly , at ' nine o'clock and up again at fiVe in the morning. I t worked from eight to one, then Wad dinner-"-a plain ■dinner, mark my words; after that an hour's exercise; then -" • . "Excuse me, sir," interrupted the facetious ;&trahg6r in the corner, "but what were you in for?" , Maud— Do you shoot with a dog? Cholly^l^sr-'-usually start with one. Artiong the many luxuries of modern civilisation is the . occasional chance to make an honest living. Stories of children are generally amusing. Here is one of a small boys first visit to a blacksmith's". "Mamma, ' he said, "I saw a man making a horse. , Mamma-^'You must be mistaken, surely." "No, I'm not, mamma. -He had tho hefrse nearly finished when I came away. He was just nailing on tho feet. The steamer was on the point of leaving, and the passengers lounged on the deck . and waited for the start. At length "one of .them espied a cyclist in. the fa,.- distance, and it sooh became evident that he was doing his level best to catch the b&at. Already tho sailors' hands were on the gangways, and the cyclist's chance looked small indued. • Then a sportive passenger wagered a sovereign to a shilling that he would miss it. The offer was taken, and at once the deck became a scene of wild excitement. "He'll miss it." "No; he'll just do it." "Come on !" "Ho won't do it." "Yes, ho' « ill. He's done it. Hurrah! ' In the \ ei'y nick of time the cyclist ar rived, sprang off his machine, and ran up the ,ons .gangway left. "CftAt off r he cried. , It jta* the s*Ete»tti " '