RANDOM READINGS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 552, 22 March 1913, Page 7

RANDOM READINGS.

WHERE CAMELS SMOKE.

A curious fact is described in the paper "II Tabacco," quoted by a writer in the "Strand Magazine," regarding the taming of wild camels by the natives of Morocco. A threecornered piece of wood, through which a hole is drilled, is placed in the mouth of the camel, and a lighted cigar, very large and loosely rolled, is then inserted in the hole. As soon as the animal starts to draw it becomes very tame, and continues to inhale the smoke, and to emit it through its nose. As soon as the first cigar is finished, a hew one must be put in its place, otherwise the animal becomes furious and very stubborn, fixes its legs in the ground, and cannot be made to move until the cigar smokes again.

THE IRISH BULL

Sir Richard Steel© explained why his countrymen made bulls— f "Tis the effect of climate, sir. If an Englishman were born in Ireland he would make as many," said he. It is not everyone who knows a bull when he sees her. It may be no bull, but merely a blunder—a betise, as the French have it. To make sure that we have the true criterion let us first set down a few of the genuine, orthodox Irish kind: He--built the wall wider than it was high, so that when it fell down it should be higher than it was wide. Two weary and footsora Irishmen come to a millstone: ten miles to Dublin. "Arrah," says one, "'tis but five miles apiec«." Disputing of the date of St. Patrick's birthday: "He couldn't have had two unless he was twins." The Irish sailor reported that in Philadelphia they copper-bottomed the tops of the houses with sheetlead. Give me the loan of a hatchet to saw an empty barrel of flour in two to make the dog a pig-pen. His estate»is divided by impenetrable furze ditches made of quarried stones set on edge. The famous definition of salt by tlie Irish schoolboy runs as follows: "Salt is that which makes your potatoes taste nasty if you don't put it in." The pig had no marks on his eari except a short tail. In these and in hundreds like them we have the true flavour of the Irish bull.—New York "Sun."

THE COMEDY OF MASSA KESSI.

There is a comic-opera episode at Massa Kessi, a small and recent Portuguese settlement, then consisting; of a few huts and a stockade; r ■ •• the frontier railway-station of Portuguese East Africa, says a writcrin "' * Cornhill.'' This little settleirc'nt, being in disputed territory, v.--s evacuated by Rhodes' orders in April, ißqi. But Captain Reyman -I?.] his five-and-forty Pioneers ret- ;:tcd but few miles, to a hill called Chua. In a month's time up c;i!"c a force of 250 Portuguese soldi.;-; and 500 natives, under a Captain Bettincourt and two other officers ; and they occupied Massa Kessi. ,Not contented with doing this, thov ordered Heyman and his British to clear out of Manicaland. Assuredly any body of soldiers in the world" would, in the face of such odds, have done so without a blush. But the Pioneers seem to have belonged to the pitiably unenlightened and almost extinct type of Briton who does not know when he is beaten. They were half-starved, and, besides their Vifles, Ir.ad only one s'\t:n-pounder gun, which, I am credibly informed, they thought more likely to burst and spread ruin among their own ranks than to dam- :■!-.' flic enemy. Yet they no more c.i;r.k.::nplated retreat than did ever uvo-and-forty fighting men of Devon v'th Francis Drake at their head. On the contrary, they were considering how best to fort or s'oekade of Massa Kessi when the enemy was seen to be advancing in f-ircc.' So confident —very naturally

-were the Portuguese that they had l.:f; (heir machine-guns at the Fort. So they came up against Chua Hill, \vl-:;;i-e the old seven-pounder lay cu'ctly smiling, as "it were, behind the tents, and they opened fire cheeri!v upon the little force encamped ihcrc. The Pioneers replied, and, being all experts with the rifle, hit quite a number of men. This seems to have surprised the enemy, who wavered and paused. Then the old seven-pounder, emerging from her hiding-place, spoke; perhaps to the trepidation of her friends, certainly to the discomfiture of their foes. She dropped a shot plumb into the midst of the Portuguese troops. Then there was no more wavering, but the 750, white and black, turned about and fled as one man. Some say they ran'all the way to Beira; but a glance at the map shows that this cannot be true. Captain Bettincourt and the other two officers remained alone upon the field, after they had vainly endeavoured to stem the rush of their panic-stricken army. The pioneers looked at them and they looked at the Pioneers. Then, the situation having become manifestly ridiculous, the three Portuguese 1 officers, like gallant gentlemen as they doubtless were, took off their hats in ceremonious salute to the Pioneers —imagine the erand inimitable Iberian arm-sweep!