EDITOR'S WALLET.

Otago Witness, Issue 1819, 1 October 1886, Page 35

EDITOR'S WALLET.

Three Disappointed Women; There were three middle-aged women and two middle-aged men in the car. The men sat opposite each other, and pretty soon one of them exhibited something which looked like a horse chestnut and said to the other : . '• Here is what I was speaking of. It's the most subtle poison known. A little scraped off into a cup of tea or milk will kill within an hour and leave no trace." "Can't the doctors discover it?" asked the other. " No, sir. It is absolutely impossible to detect its presence in the human system. If a wife wasn't living very happily with her husband (The three women looked at each other.) " what a boon this would be. She could have a little of this ready for his cup of tea at supper time, and he would go to his bed, fall asleep, and die without a struggle. She (All the women craned their necks to see the object.) « would give the alarm, summon the doctor, ana of course do more or less weeping and grieving in order to carry out her part. The (The women looked at each other in a knowing way.) " — doctor would call it a case of heart disease, and not the slightest suspicion could possibly attach to the widow. The only trouble- — (Each woman bent forward and held her breath to listen.) " is to get the article into the hands of such women as would like to use it, and to have them understand that I was a person who could be trusted. How (Kach woman .shook her head as if saying that it would be dangerous.) " ever, perhaps I shall hit upon some plan. I'm off here. Good-bye." Each woman followed him with her eyes until he turned a corner, and then they looked suspiciously at each other and nodded ■ their heads, as if saying : " She'd like that poison — you bet she would." — Detroit Free Press. Racing an Archbishop. Archbishop Whately was once near Dublin where some men were at work in a hay-field. " Now, my lads," said the archbishop, " you all see that tree yonder ?" — pointing to a large tree several hundred yards away. " Yes, your grace," they all said. "Well," said the archbishop, "the man who touches that tree first shall have this half-crown." The men got ready for the race. " Now then," shouted the archbishop — " one, two, three, and away." " Off, the men started, each doing his best. When about one-third of the way to the tree, they heard the sound of quick steps behind them, and soon the tall figure and long legs of the archbishop swept past them. With a triumphant laugh the archbishop touched the tree and put the half-crown into his pocket. But, after they had acknowledged him as the winner, each of the losers was presented with a half-crown. The Adventures of a Portrait. Whon Cardinal yon Hohenlohe was giving a sitting to Ezekiel, the American sculptor in Rome, he happenad to allude to Queen Adelaide, wife of William the Fourth of England, who was a relative and the devoted friend of his boyhood. To this Mr Ezekiel responded that he believed he had a portrait of her. The cardinal looked incredulous, saying that but one had ever been painted, and that he was the possessor of one of the few engravings that had been taken from it, and that it must be a mistake. The soulptor then produced from a corner a small and beautifully-executed cabinet portrait in oil, bearing upon its back the inscription in German: " Adelaide, Queen of England, wife of William IV., born Princess of Meiningen. Painted in London by Ferdinand Flor, 1830." One can better imagine than describe the i surprise and delight of the venerable prelate | at finding after such an interval of time, and in so unexpected a place, a likeness of his childhood's friend, which he instantly I recognised and fairly embraced. It seems ' that the artist Flor, who had been a court painter in his palmy days, had drifted to Rome in his later years, in search perhaps i of health through its genial clime, and had from various causes come to the pinching end of want. Mr Ezekiel befriended him at an opportune moment in a way that made his old age a comfortable and pleasant one. He had not seen him for some years afterward, when one day the worn-out old painter came tottering into his studio with the portrait of Queen Adelaide under his arm, of which he begged an acceptance, saying it was all he had to offer, and he wished to do something in memory of the great kindness which had been showen him. Not to offend him, the genial sculptor received the apparently unimportant gift, and now, ten years later, by the fortunate discovery of its I relationship to the cardinal, he has made another heart happy in presenting the work to him, who prizes io most. Through all its journeyings and during the many changes of j its fifty odd years of existence, that portrait certainly seemed predestined to find its proper place at last. Three Peach Stories. One of the most illustrious if not the greatest of modern French financiers having to entertain two of the prettiest actresses on the Paiisian stage, visited the establishment of a fruit commission merchant in order to obtain some delicacies for the ladies. " How much are these peaches ?" he asked of the merchant. " Three hundred francs, Monsieur I le Baron," said the dealer, "and I beg to I direct your attentiqn to the fact that they are of a phenomenally la.rge size.' 1 j " Hum [ if one was only sure that they I were good 1 " mused the Baron. "I guarantee that their flavour is exquisite, i Would you like to try one and see ? " So saying, the fruit merchant took a silverbladed knife, placed one of th,9 three peaches

on a plate, cut it in halves, offered one half to the banker, and ate the other half himself. Then he asked : " Well, what do you think of them?" " Delicious," replied the banker; " wrap the two others up for me in paper," The Baron placed a 200-franc bill on the counter " Excuse me ; it's 400 frances," objected the dealer, without moving a muscle. " What 1 why, it was only 300 frances when ' there were three." " Certainly, but these two peaches are now rarer than they were a minute ago. If we were to eat another, the last one, which would then be unique, would, be worth not less than a 1000 francs. T Doctor D , a Parisian practitioner,is a great connoisseur in peaches. One of his patients, Lord W , said to him last year : " Well, doctor, come and pass a couple of days with me in London, and you will be able to satisfy your tastes." The Frenchman accepted the invitation and was treated like a prince. At dessert they offered him a peach as big as a small melon. He ate it, made a grimace, but said nothing. The host, surprised at his taciturnity, hastened to put the customary question, " How did you like the fruit 1 " when piercing cries were suddenly heard from the adjoining chamber. The guests leapt from the table and rushed in disorder to the drawing room where they perceived a three-year-old child giving voice to a most noisy despair. " What's the matter with Tony 7 " asked the mother of the little fellow's maid. "He's lost his ball, your ladyship. I've looked everywhere for it, under the furniture, up and down, and I can't put my hand on it." " One moment," exclaimed Dr D. anxiously, " was the ball made of cotton ? " " Yes, csrtainly, but what of that ? " ; "Ah, poor child!" exclaimed the Doctor, "he will never see his ball again, never again. I've just swallowed it. I took it for an English peach." We mustn't forget the historic anecdote of Louis XV.'s peaches. The Lord High Treasurer sent the King two superb peaches. Louis XV., who was somewhat of anepicure, showed himself so enchanted with his present that he immediately commenced to bite into one of the two fruits, making a present of the other one to the peasant who had brought them to him. The latter took his knife out of his pocket and commenced to peel the peach with great care. " Why, what are you doing ? " demanded the monarch. " Ah ! confound it, sire," answered the rustic, " it's just this. I let one of the two fall into the swill-bucket, and I've clean fort gotten which one the accident happened to." Returning Good for Evil. | v Parson Whangdoodle Baxter meets Jim Webster, one of his parishioners. " I hopes dat yer am still walkin' in de narrer paff, Jeems." J •' I hope so too, parson." "Does yer carry out de golden rule ob returnin' good for ebil ? " "I has been returnin' good for ebil, but I'se been losin' money at the biziness. No later den last week I lost a dollar by dat ar ; foolishness." " How so, Jeems ? " " Gabe Snodgrass asked me tor change a dollar for him. I gib him two good silber half dollars for a bad doHar bill. Dat was returnin' good for ebil wit a vengeance." j " Jim Webster," said parson Baxter, looking over his specs, " I wants ter ask yer a few queshons." "All right, parson." "Yer got de bad dollar bill las' week, didn't yer 1 " " Yes, sah." " Yer went to church las' Sunday, didn't yer ? " "Hey?" " Yer heered me. Needn't -make out yer didn't heah me. I seed yer in church las' Sunday. I had my eye on yer. You was skylarking wid dat saddle c'ullored niggah Matildy Snowball. You was paying no tenshun ter de tidings. But dats not de wussest reskility yer has been up ter." " What does yer mean, parson 1 " " Las' Sunday dar was a bad dollar bill in de hat, and as Moses said unter Nathan ' dou art. de man,' and yet yer have dc gall to tell me dat you am still in de narrer paff. Here's de bad dollar, and you jess shell out a good one ef yer don't wanter be slammed on de ground and wrapped aroun' a tree." " But Parson Baxter — " s< Han ober a good dollar for dis bad one. So, dats right. Now you has been returnin' good for ebil some more. You am still in de narrer paff. . Him what endureth to de end shell be saved. Good mawning, Jeems," and with a pleasant smile that seemed to meet behind his ears, Parson Baxter passed on. — Texas Sif tings. Flattering- Prospects. A Dakota farmer recently called at the office of the local paper. " How are crops looking out in your neighbourhood V asked the editor. " Poor, very poor," " What's the matter with the wheat V " Oh, fust it was dry weather and then it was too wet, and the other day a hailstorm hit it. I don't count on more'n a quarter of a crop." " How are other things ?" " Purty poor. Flax ain't doin' much, the frost took all the corn, and the bugs have 'bout et up the pertaters." " Well, that is bad — I am very sorry to • hear it." The farmer went out and the editor grasped a pencil and wrote : " We received a pleasant call from Farmer Snoozenberry of Way back township Wednesday afternoon, who dropped in to renew his subscription. Mr S. brought very flattering reports of the crops, and was particularly enthusiastic about the wheat, which he says is actually bpomipg. He remarked that he would not bo afraid to guarantee every man in his township at lea.st 30 bushels to the acre. We would challenge any other section of the Territory to make aa good a showing

as this. He was very earnest ,in what H said on the subject and communicated hlii enthusiasm to everyone. With only ahoiit half a crop in the wheat-growing countries and a European war virtually assured we certainly have great cause for rejoipihg."— Eatelline Bell. Titles in the territory. . . The next day after a man moved into a town in Western Dakota, the mayor called upon him and said : " Just arrived from the east, I hear ?" " Yes. " Believe your name is Jones ?" " That's it." " No title, I suppose T " None." " Of course you will want one now, but I'll tell you just how it is. We haven't got much left to select from. We limited each title to five persons, andwealready have five colonels, five senators, five governors, five judges, and so on. We aren't quite full on majors and commodores, however, and you can take your choice." "Well, if it is customary, I believe I'll take major." "All right, Major. Come on down to Judge Potts' poker parlours, and I'll introj duce you to Senator Blow, General M'Gore, ! and others of our leading citizens." — Estelline Bell. Food for Man. The old saying that what is one man's meat is another man's poison is realised in the opposite tastes of people. The Turks shudder at the thought of eat* ing oysters. The Digger Indians of the Pacific slope rejoiced in the great locust swarms of 1875 as a dispensation of the Great Spirit, and laid in a store of dried locust powder sufficient to last them for several years. The French will eat frog 9, snails, and the diseased livers of geese, but draw the line at alligators. Buckland declares the taste of boa con][ strictor good, and much like veal. Quass, the fei merited cabbage water of the Russians, is their popular tipple. It is de« scribed as resembling a mixture of stale fish and soapsuds in taste, yet, next to beer, it has more votaries than ady other fermented beverage. A tallow candle washed down with quass forms a meal that it would be hard to be thankful for. In Canton and other Chinese cities rats are sold at the rate of 2dol a dozen, and the hind quarters of the dog are hung up in the butchers' shop alongside of mutton and lamb, but command a higher price. The edible birds' nest of the Chinese are worth twice their weight in silver, the finest variety selling for as much as 30dol a pound. ' The negroes of the West Indies eat baked snakes and palm worms fried in. their own fat, but they cannot be induced to eat stewed rabbits. ' • • In Mexico parrots are eaten, but they are rather tough. The Guachos of the Badda Oriental are in the habit of hunting skunks for the sa^e of of their flesh. The octopus or devil-fish when boiled and then roasted is eaten in Corsica and esteemed a delicacy. / In the Pacific Islands and West Indies lizard eggs are eaten with gusto. The natives of the Antilles eat alligator eggs, and the eggs of the turtle arepopnlar everywhere, though up to the commencement of the last century turtle was only eaten by the poor of Jamaica. Ants are eaien by various nations. In Brazil they are served with a resinous sauce, and in Africa they are stewed with grease or butter. The East Indians catch them in pits and carefully wash them in handf uls like raisins. In Siam a curry of ant eggs is a costly luxury. The Ceylonees eat the bees after robbing them of their honey. Caterpillars and spiders are dainties to the African bushman. , After they have wound, the silk from the cocoon the Chinese eat the chrysalis of the silkworm. Spiders roasted are a sort of dessert with the New Caledonians.