The Sphinx, Vol. 13, No. 183

              22
THE SPHINX
December 9th
J. Stories Worth Repeating fc
The old watchmaker of a small town in the West of England recently retired, and the contract for keeping the chu«ch and town-hall clocks in order was gi ven to his stfccessor. Unfortunately, from the start the newWian experienced a difficulty in getting the clocks to strike at the same time. At last the district council requested an interview with the watchmaker.
“You are not as successful with the clocks as your predecessor”, he was told. “It is very misleading to have one clock striking three or four minutes after the other. Why, before you took them in hand we could hardly tell the two were striking. Surely you are as competent as Mr.
h— r
“Every workman has his own methods, gentlemen,” replied the watchmaker, “and mine ain’t the same as H----’s were.”
“I’m decidedly of opinion that it would he for the general good if they were” remarked one of the councillors.
“Very well, sir, in future they shall be,” came the reply. “I happened to write to Mr. H — last week about the trouble I had with the clocks, and—but, perhaps,” he added, as he producced a letter, and handed it to the chairman, “you’d like to see what he said.
“Dear Sir” (ran the letter).-— “About them clocks. When you get to know what a cantankerous lot of busybodies the council consists of, you’ll do the same as I did for fifteen years : Forget to wind up the striker of the town-hall clock, and the silly owls won’t be able to tell that both clocks ain’t striking regether.”
There is a story—easily credited by those who know the man—told at the expense of a remarkably stingy individual, who never buys when he can borrow.
He had recently taken a house in the country, and, though the place would have satisfied nine men out of ten, he called on the agent with a list of complaints as long as his arm.
“You profess to have told me the truth,” he stormed, “but you haven’t told me the whole truth. There’s that lawn, for instance 1”
“Really, sir,” protested the agent, “I distinctly remember describing the lawn it is.”
“Oh, yes,” went on the grumbler. “You told me there was a lawn, but you didn’t tell me that the nearest owner of a lawn-mower lived two miles away ! Where am I to borrow a lawn-mower, sir ? Answer me that!”
But the agent couldn’t.
When France and Germany were at war an Englishman was arrested by the French and accused of being a German spy. A letter dated “Berlin,” and signed by his mother, was found upon him. He was tried by drumhead court-martial, and condemned to be shot.
On the way to the place of execution he said that he had left something behind, and insisted on going back for it.
“You can’t go back,” was the reply. “You are about to be shot.”
“I can’t help that,” said be. “I have left something, and I must get it.”
“What have you left ?”
“My umbrella.”
That settled it. He was released. No one but Englishman, said his captors, could be such a thorough-going imbecile as that.
A new Irish porter was put to work at a railway station in the North. The head porter directed the new man to imitate him closely, and thereby learn his duties.
When the first train came into the station the
head porter shouted : Ferryhill. Change for Hartlepool, Stockton, and .Middlesbrough ; change for Spennymoor, Coxhoe, and Trimdon ; keep your seats going North.”
Barney strode after him, and shouted in a lourder voice : “Fareyhill, Change for Dahore, Umphump, • Tootalooral, Diderham ; change for Coxcomb, Morrham, Findham, Coldham ; lcape your seats where you are.”
The stationmaster called him aside and showed him the right names on the time-table.
Barney removed his cap and said, politely : “Thank you, sor. I got hould of the music, but I couldn’t eatch the words.”
A certain Fellow of Queen’s, who was excited by obtaining a First Class, and possibly by another cause as well, climbed to the roof of the College. The Provost tried to hringhim to his sen esand to the ground. “Do comedown, Mr. So aand-So.” the Provost called to the man on the roof. “We can all feel for you in your great success.” “No, you can’t, old chap,” was the reply from the roof. “You only got a Third I
“I admire a liar,” said the gossip, “even when his prevarications strain my credulity. A friend of mine, who objects to effoits to pry into his personal affairs, recently limped into my workshop.
“What’s the matter with your foot ?” I asked, more to be polite than because I cared what was the trouble.
“Then he gained my everlasting admiration by a display of nerve and mendacity I never saw equalled. “An eel stepped on it, he said.”
A bald-healed chemist was standing at his shop door when a Scotchman stepped into the shop and asked if he had a good hair restorer. “Certainly, sir; first-rate hair restorer; an article I can personally recommend. We have testimonials from some of the leading men of the day who have used it with success. It makes the hair grow in twenty-four hours. Large sized bottles, holding twice as much as the smaller bottles, three and ninepence each ; smaller bottles, half-a -crown.” The cautious Scot replied: “Weel, ye can gie the top o’ your head a bit rub wi’ the mixture, and I’ll look back the morn and see if ye’re telliing the truth !”
Mark Twain was visiting Mr. H.H.Rogers,who was very proud of a bust of white marble. It was of a young woman curling her hair, and was a graceful example of modern Italian sculpture. “There,” said Mr. Rogers, “what do you think of that?” Mark Twain looked at the bust with gravity and a critical air, and then said, “Well, it isn’t true to nature, Rogers.” Not true to nature ! Why not ?” “Well,” said Mark Twain, slowly, “the young woman ought to have her nouth full of hairpins 1”
A well-known surgeon was imparting some clinical instruction to half-a-dozen students. Paus-sing at the bedside of a doubtful case, he said, “Now, gentlemen, do you think this is or is not a a case for operation ?” One by one each student made his diagnosis, and all of them answered in the negative.
“Well gentlemen, you are all wrong,” said the wielder of the scalpel ; “I shall operate tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t,” said the patient, as he arose in his bed ; “six to oneisa good majority : gimme my clothes.”
The constantly recurring question “Why do not intelligent working men go to church?” may be answered in part by an anecdote which has the merit of being true. An elder in an Ayrshire Presbyterian kirk was an inveterate snuffer. One day the minister rebuked him thus: “Man Geordie yer showin’a bad example. Ye snuff a’ through the service, an’ a’ through the sermon. Is there nae chance o’ reformation, man ?” Geordie : “0, aye : jist possible. Try and put a bit snuff intae yer sermons !”
Here is another story about an elder of the kirk :—In a certain Presbyterian congregation in the North of Ireland there was an elder famous for his persistent grumbling. No church meeting in which he took part was ever known to be unanimous on any point, and in his home the same spirit kept all in constant turmoil. One Sunday morning, when he was on his way to “meeting,” he was overtaken by a neighbour, who said, “ Man Jamie, I had a grand dream about you an’ me last night. I dreamt we were both in Heaven, an’ going about to see the sights. An’ when I met ye once I said, ‘Well, Jamie, everything will please ye here, surely. All’s right at last!’ An’ ye never said one word, but just snapped off yer crown and said, ‘ Do ye call that a fit?”’
A certain well-known politician is hardly a “crack” shot.
Some time ago, on the Scottish moors, he unsuccessfully fired at a covey of birds that rose close by him.
“ It’s strange that none of them fell, ” he observed, as he watched their tight; “I’m certain that some of them must have been struck.”
“ I dinna (loot,” returned the keeper, with the freedom of his class, ” that they were struck wi’ astonishment at getting off sae easy. ”
A well-known comedian, celebrated for his eccentricities, boarded a ’bus the other day and duly paid his fare upon demand. After riding fifty yards or so, he produced another coin and tendered the same to the passing conductor.
The honest conductor refused the proffered coin, while the actor vehemently protested his desire to pay his fare.
“You have given me your fare already,’’argued the man in uniform.
“I know,” responded the comedian, “but this is for the company.”
Everyone laughed except the discomfited conductor, who had omitted to register the first collection.
A comical Balzac story is thus quoted* from the “Gaulois”: The novelist, it appears, flattered himself upon his skill in reading character from handwriting ; and the story is of the test applied to his skill. A lady brought him an extract from the exercise-book of a twelve-year old schoolboy, and asked for an opinion as to the youngster’s character and prospects. Balzac inquired whether the child was her own. Answered in the negative, he examined the exercise carefully and delivered his judgment. “ Madam,” he said, “this child is thickheaded and frivolous. He will never come to any good. If he were my child, I would take him from school and put him to the plough.” And then it had to be broken gently to the graphologist that the exercise on which he had pronounced so severely was one of his own, which had been discovered hidden away between the leaves of an old lesson-book.
99
JOHN JAMESON’S
THREE STAR" Whiskey
Distillers by Appointment to H.M. The King
VAUGHAN-JONES’
“STANDARD”
OLD TOM GIN, LONDON DRY GIN
Ginger Brandy, Cherry Brandy, Orange Bitters, etc.
FINEST QUALITIES ONLY.
*■	Sold at the best places throughout the World.
SOLE EXPORT AGENTS: CHARLES rt a -v Sc Co. Water Lane, Iiond-on.-