Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/533

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EDITOR'S DRAWER.
491


The Elusive Botticelli

IT was at a table d'hôte in Baden. Among the guests was a young American couple; and one of our party, in an attempt to make conversation, ventured to ask the lady, who was seated next her, whether she liked Botticelli. The reply came somewhat hesitatingly:

"No, I—that is—I'm afraid I've never tasted it. In fact," she added, "I know very little about wines."

"My dear!" exclaimed her husband, in a fever of expostulation, "Botticelli isn't a wine—it's a che-e-e-se!"

Later, amid other scenes, we repeated the story, to the great delight of a numerous company. As the laughter subsided, a voice was heard saying in accents of relief:

"Well! I'm glad to have that settled! I know I ought to be ashamed to confess it, but the truth is I've always vaguely supposed Botticelli was a sculptor!" A. R.




A Stern Rebuke

DOLLY is only five, but her small mind shows a decided theological bent.

"Come, Dolly," I called one day, "open your mouth and shut your eyes and I'll give you something to make you wise."

"Oh, papa," she cried, in wide-eyed reproof, "that's just what the serpent said to Eve!" M. C. C.




Unauthenticated

AN AMERICAN going abroad heard on shipboard a story which gave him keen delight. Arrived in London, it occurred to him to try the effect of this story upon an Englishman of his acquaintance.

"It seems," said he, "that during the late war there was at one time a great scarcity of horses in the British army—in fact, the demand was so great that the government was obliged to press a lot of cab-horses into the service. The Boer general got wind of it somehow just on the eve of battle. He issued certain instructions. As the armies advanced upon each other—at the very moment of encounter—every Boer held up his hand; every English horse stopped like a shot."

"I should require proof of that story!" said the Englishman, firmly. A. R.




A Fable

SAID a Little Boy to a Honey Bee,
"You'd not be happy if you was me!
'Cause I don't get enough time to play,—
I can't do half what I want, all day.
You stay where it's sunny, all chock full of honey,—
It must be funny to live that way—
You have a lot better time than me!"
Said the Little Boy to the Honey Bee.

Said the Honey Bee to the Little Boy,
"Yes, life is jolly and full of joy!
I hum and bumble and buzz away,
But it's mostly work and it's seldom play,
And, rainy or sunny, I toiled for the honey
Which you (how funny!) ate up to-day.
I don't know why, but I buzz with joy!"
Said the Honey Bee to the Little Boy.


Unsentimental

Hunter. "I suppose those hearts you are carving there are a message to your sweetheart?"

Tramp. "Nope; they stand for two hearty meals I've had to-day."