Democratic Sentinel, Volume 22, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 August 1898 — ANECDOTE AND INCIDENT [ARTICLE]

ANECDOTE AND INCIDENT

tVhea John G. Saxe was a young editor at Burlington, Vt, he attended a iloman Catholic funeral in the capacity bt bearer; High mass was sung, and the bedrets stood throughout the long service; Finally a companion whispered to # the humorist: “Pretty long drawn-out, isn’t it, Saxe?” “Yes,” was the reply; “they will tun It Into the ground pretty room” A tedious preacher had preached the assize sermon before Lord Yeivertoh. He came down, smiling, to his lordship aftet the service, and, expecting congratulations oh ids effort, asked: “Well, iny Lord, how did you like the Sefihon. “Oh, most wonderful;” fepiitfd ■fcelverton; “It was like the peace of God, it passed hi! understanding; and, like His mercy, i thought it would have ehdpred forever;" That famous old country gentleman, the late Sir Rainald Knightley, had been expatiating after dinner on the undoubted glories of his famous pedigree. , The company was getting a little restive under the recitation, when Sir William Harcourt was heard to say, in an aside: “This reminds me of Addison’s evening hymn, ‘And Knightley to the listening earth repeats the story of his birth/ ” * Dumas the elder was rarely spiteful to or about his fellow-men, but one day, when he happened to be in that thood, a friend called to tell him a piece of hews. “They have just given M. X— the Legion of Hotiof,” he said; (then iie added, in a significant tone','‘NoW; can you. imagine Why they Should have giveh it to him?” “Yes,” answered the great dramatist, promptly; “they have given it to him because he was without it.” George P. Morris, the author of “Woodman, Spare That Tree,” was a general of the New York militia. Once Fitz-Greene Halleck, the author of “Marco Bozzaris,” called upon Mrs. M. E. W. Sherwood in New York, in his old age, and she asked him to define for her what was poetry and what was prose. He replied: “When Gen. Morris commands his brigade, and says, ‘Soldiers, draw your swords,’ he talks prose. When he says, ‘Soldiers, draw your willing swords,’ he talks poetry.” Isl an eastern county court the Judge was in a Quandary the, other day. a Coat Was in dispute; The parties were ti’iSh, find the evidence was direct and positive for both eidiriiaiits. After ifiuch Wrangling, Patrick Peters, one df the parties, proposed that he and his Opponent, Tiitiothy See whose name was on the coat Timothy searched in vain, and the Coat Was handed to Pat, who immediately took his knife, opened a corner of the collar of Yhe coat, and out dropped two small peas. “There, d’ye see that now?” said he. “Yes; but what of that?” said Timothy. “A dale it ’as to do wid it! It is my name, to be sure—pea for Patrick, fthd pea for Peters, he jabers!” He got the coat after that. Two peddlers of Hebrew extraction were plying their vocation in the conntry. Calling at a farm house one day for dinner, they were accommodated, thongh the fare Was, if anything, no more than that Usually given to tramps —the dryest of bread, very stale, cold potatoes, scraps of fat meat, bones, sour milk, etc.—and what made matters worse, they were charged $1 for the miserable fepast. ft took ail the Small Change they could rake and scrape to pay the score, and shouldering their packs, they left the liouse, two very sober and disgusted men. After walking down the road for half a mile In silence, one of them ventured to relieve his feelings: “Dot vas a pad man, Isaac.” “Yes, Moses, dot vas a ferry pad man.” Another half-mile and another long silence, then: “God vill Punish dot man, Isaac.” “Yes, Moses, God till punish dot man.” They trudged oh fully a mile farther before either spoke again, and then Moses broke the silence by exclaiming, with quiet' emphasis, as he drew a handful 6f Silver spoons from his bosom: “Isaac, God has alretty punished dot ferry pad man.” Mr. Curzon under-secretary for India, Was making a long and elaborate speech in Parliament, not long ago, against a measure urged regarding that dependency, as certain to result in a loss to the Government of many lacs of rupees. He repeated with emphasis: “Consider. Not pounds nor guineas, but lacs of rupees!” A quiet voice on the opposition benches asked, “Exactly how much is a lac of rupees?” Mr. Curzon opened his mouth, stammered, grew red, and then said: “I really don’t know.” The House laughed, and In that laugh he lost his cause. A somewhat similar scene is recalled by the Youth’s Companion as having occurred many years ago in Congress. A present of Arabian horses, a sword, etc., arrived from the Iman of Muscat for President Adams. A Western member, with some heat, moved that the gift should be sent back, with a letter from Congress, informing the ruler of Muscat that the President of the United States was no king, but the servant of the people, and was not permitted to give or receive presents. Another member rose. “Such a letter, Mr. Speaker,” he said, “can easily be written. But where is it to be sent? Where is Muscat?” There was no response. Apparently not a member of the House was prepared to answer, nor could Muscat then be found in any atlas published in this country. It was found at last on a German map. Nothing perforates bombastic oratory like a sharp question. When Burke, in the height of a labored i peroration in Parliament against* France, drew a dagger and threw It-On the floor, somebody made the act absurd by saying: “Yes, that’s the knife. But where’s the fork?”