SHORT STORIES.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 2170, 31 August 1920, Page 1

SHORT STORIES.

A druggist was boasting in t!io company of his friends' of his wellassorted stoek in trade. “There isn’t a drug missing,” he said; “not even of the most nneommou sort.” “Come, now,” said one of the bystanders, by way of a joke, “I’m sure you don’t keep spirits of contradiction, as well slocked as *vou are.” “Why not?” said the druggist, not in the least embarrassed. “You shall sec for yourself.” So saying-, lie left the room and returned leading his wife by the han d. One night —or morning, rather — Air Brown returned just as dawn was breaking. “What time is it?” called his sleepy spouse. “A quarter to eleven, my dear,” replied Mr Brown. His wife lighted a lamp and looked at an alarm clock that stood near her bed. It showed twenty minutes past four. >She took her husband to task; whereupon he put on his coat and hat and started out in a dignilied manner. “Where are you going?” she asked. “I am going away,’’ he replied — “away never to return! When things have come to such a pass in this house that you, the wife of my bosom, will rather believe an ordinary tin, two-and-ninepenny alarm clock instead of your loving husband, it is time I left for parts unknown !” An artist was holding a private view of his paintings in his studio with the secret hope of being able to sell one or two, and so provide himself with a few necessities. For his victim he selected a fat, prosperous looking old fellow, and, drawing him to an easel close by, he said, with an air of modest pride, “There, sir, this is my latest pic - lure.” The prospective buyer, raising his eye-glasses, looked closely at the mingled hues on the canvas, where each made a hold bid for supremacy. “Eh —hut what is it?” he asked, cautiously of the artist. “A battle scene,” the other explained coldly." “And I have tried to

express in it all the horrors of war.” “Excellent, excellent!” exclaimed the old gentleman; “I never saw anything more horrible in my life.” A story is told regarding a clergyman who til times -lias rather a defective memory. One Sunday, when he was making the announcements for the coming week, he wanted to intimate that he would not he the preacher on the following Sunday, and that the pulpit would be occupied by his son-in-law, the Rev. Samuel , but at the last moment his memory went astray. “In addition to the notices just read," lit l began. “1 desire to say that I shall not'be preaching here next Sabbath, and the pulpit will be occupied by—by—by the pulpit will be occupied by—by —” He faltered for a few seconds, then tried again. “I shall not be here next Sabbath, and the preacher will be —will be —” breaking off in exasperation., “Why, I know him quite well. You all know him, he married my daughter.” Then a smile broke over his face. “Oh, I remember,” he said, then went on gravely: “Sam will preach here next Sabbath.”