SOME GOOD STORIES

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 348, 26 March 1910, Page 9

SOME GOOD STORIES

MR. ROOSEVELT'S SATIRE. The American Press have been/crediting Mr. Roosevelt with some amazing feats of huntsmanship in East Africa, and* at a recent dinner at Nairobi the ex-President is credited with having told a story satirising these "tall" stories. "One day," said Mr. Roosevelt, "in looking tor game I found a lion. The gun-earirers were frightened away, and I was alone, with no weapons. As tne lion crawled up ready to spring I figured that the best thing to do was to drop ,on my knees. The lion sprang, I dropped, and the beast went clear over me. •'I then arose, and sa\% the lion was coming on again. The knee drop having worked well, I tried it again as the lion sprang, with the same happy result. This performance went on for some time, until the lion got tired and went away. "The next morning," added Mr. Roosevelt, "when I went out to hunt, I saw the same lion, i knew him by his mane. I watched him for some time. What do you think he was doing, gentlemen? He was practising short jumps!" "POOR SCOTLAND." In English golfer playing on a wellknown Scottish course recently hit the turf ten times for every once that he struck the ball. His caddie ventured on a sarcastic remonstrance. "Ha' peety on auld Scotland, sir," said he. "She's suffered eneuch at the hands o' yer countrymen in the past that ye sud treat her sae sair the day. Hit the ba', mon, an' let the grun' alone."

"Confound Scotland!" shouted the exasperated golfer, flinging down his club in a rage. "It's just -what Dr. Johnson described it—'stone, water and a little •arth.'"

"Sae the doctor said that, did he?" enquired the caddie, after having digested the golfer's remonstrance.

"He did. And he was a very wise man, let me tell you," snapped the Engli«hman.

"I believe ye," retorted the caddie. "Nae doot the doctor was a verra wise mon, for there is muckle o' stane an' watter in Scotland—oor mountains an' lochs that ye come sae far to see; an' it's a sair truth that the soil is »o verra deep. You see. there's sic a number o' English bodies come to Scotland to play gowf." # AN UNTOLD STORY OF TOOLE-. Toole, perhaps the prince of raconteurs, was fond of relating an adventure that once befell him at St. Albans. "I went there with a friend to spend an hour or two. Going into s tobacconist's to treat my friend to a cigar—] don't smoke myself—l asked for the cigars the Duke of St. Albans smoked, We went into other shops, and all the time asked for the same kind of goods th«y supplied to the Duke. " 'Lor' bless you,' they said, 'the Duke doesn't deal here; we never see the Duke.'

"The next day I went to lunch with Bret Harte. After a greeting from my boat, he said:

"'Oh, yes,' I said, with a smile, and shook hands with the gentleman who ■was assuming that character, a(s I thought. Of course, my friend had told Bret Harte about our little trip to St. Albans, and the American humorist was ihaving his little joke just now at my expense. Then he introduced me to Sir George Tievelyan; and I had hardly shaken hands with that gentleman when my host said:

"'I would like to introduce you to Count Bismarck.'

" 'Oh, yes/ I said, "bowing to the newcomer; 'how many more of you are there? Where is Von Moltike, for instance?'

"Harte laughed; so did Trevelyan; a. comedian is allowed certain privileges, and my remark was considered, I dare«&y, more or less complimentary, but 1 had no idea what a fool I was making of myself. At luncheon I said to the man next to me:

"'Who is the gentleman Harte introduced to me as St. Albans?'

" The Duke of St. Albans/ he replied. " 'And the man opposite ?' " 'Herbert Bismarck, the Prince's son.' "'No,' I said, 'really?' '"Oh, yes,' he said. 'And the man talking to him is Sir George Trevelyan:'

"I was never more sold in my life. Harte had heard nothing of my trip to 'St. Albans. The explanation ci my reception of the names of his distinguished guests, however, was a success; for I felt bound to tell his Grace, and the rest why I had treated them with levity, not to say contumely." ABSENT-MINDED. Modjeska tells a story about her honeymoon that is somewhat amusing. It was some years ago, but she still laughs about it. When the Countess and Count of Bozenta were on their wedding trip, it happened one morning that she had just got up, when the Count, who had been out for an hour or two taking a morning walk, came back, and called to her excitedly: ' "Helen! Helen! Come here." 1 "What is it?" !

"Come here quick, I've brought you some lovely fruit, the first in the market."

"All right, I'm dressing. T"l come .as soon as I have finished getting ready."

She dressed leisurely and entered the. sitting-room. The Count w«* sitting reading, deeply interested in his book. She looked round. No fruit was, to V seen. She looked all over the place. The Count looked up. "Villat are you looking tor?" ''Where's the fruit?" The Count looked on the rajile. Tt was not there. "Uond gracious." he Mid. "I'll be hanged if T haven't eaten it!-"