Part 7 (1/2)

Rossetti's fondness for humorous stories and his interest in a particular soldier of fortune, or rather of misfortune, are shown in Hall Caine's autobiography. Beginning life as the secretary of Ruskin, the man ultimately lived on his cleverness and audacity and made Rossetti in particular his conscious and delighted victim. Feeble as Rossetti was, the visits of this man did him good, and he laughed all the evening and told droll stories himself. One of the latter was of a man near to death to whom the clergyman came and said: ”Dear friend, do you know who died to save you?” ”Oh, meenister, meenister,” said the dying man, ”is this a time for conundrums?”

It is interesting to recall, apropos of the recent Milton celebration, an anecdote of Milton that was told in an old family letter written in 1762, recently quoted in the columns of the London ”Spectator”:

”Possibly you may not have heard this anecdote concerning him. John Vallack--who, I believe, died after you came to Tavistock--told me it, and he lived in London in 1696. Milton, as you know, was blind.

Charles the Second had the curiosity to see him, and said: 'G.o.d hath punished you for your malice, etc., to my father by taking away your eyesight.'

”'Aye,' says Milton, 'but before I lost my eyes he lost his head.'”

In writing a sketch of Was.h.i.+ngton a pupil ended her essay by saying: ”Was.h.i.+ngton married a famous belle, Martha Custis, and in due time became the father of his country.”

A certain regiment was on the march from Philadelphia to Gettysburg and the companies were ordered to move with a few minutes' interval between them and to keep each other in sight, the band and drums leading.

The band soon got a long way ahead, and on reaching a bend, halted for a few minutes' rest. Presently up galloped a mounted officer in hot haste and shouted for the band sergeant.

”What do you mean,” he said, ”by getting out of sight of the leading company?”

”We were not out of sight, sir,” answered the sergeant.

”What do you mean by telling me that!” exclaimed the officer in a rage. ”You were out of sight, I saw you myself.”

Several ladies sat after a card party at the University Club a few mornings ago, discussing the virtues of their husbands. ”Mr.

Bingleton,” said one of them, referring to her life partner, ”never drinks and never swears--indeed, he has no bad habits.” ”Does he ever smoke?” some one asked. ”Yes; he likes a cigar just after he has eaten a good meal. But, I suppose, on an average, he doesn't smoke more than once a month.”

Ian Maclaren was talking to a group of literary beginners in New York.

”Begin your stories well,” he said emphatically. ”There's nothing like a good beginning. Indeed, it's half the battle.” Then with a smile this excellent beginner of stories added: ”Always bear in mind the case of the young man who, desiring to marry, secured a favorable hearing from his sweetheart's irascible father by opening the interview with the words: 'I know a way, sir, whereby you can save money.'”

Benevolent gentleman--”My little boy, have you no better way to spend this beautiful afternoon than by standing in front of the gate, idling away your time?”

Boy--”I ain't idling away my time. There's a chump inside with my sister, who is paying me ten cents an hour to watch for pa.”

That famous Scotch physician, Dr. George Fordyce, was unfortunately somewhat given to drink, and though he never was known to be dead drunk, yet he was often in a state which rendered him unfit for professional duties. One night when he was in such a condition, he was suddenly sent for to attend a lady of t.i.tle who was very ill. He went, sat down, listened to her story, and felt her pulse. He found he was not up to his work. He lost his wits and in a moment of forgetfulness exclaimed, ”Drunk, by Jove!” Still he managed to write out a mild prescription. Early next morning he received a message from the n.o.ble patient to call on her at once. Dr. Fordyce felt very uncomfortable.

The lady evidently intended to upbraid him either for giving an improper prescription or for his disgraceful condition, but to his surprise and relief she thanked him for his prompt compliance with her pressing summons, and then confessed that he had rightly diagnosed her case. That unfortunately she occasionally indulged too freely in drink, but that she hoped he would preserve inviolable secrecy as to the condition in which he had found her. Fordyce listened to her as grave as a judge, then said:

”Madam, you may depend on me. I shall be as silent as the grave.”

A friend of Dean Swift one day sent him a turbot as a present by a servant lad who had frequently been on similar errands but had never received anything from the dean for his trouble. Having gained admission he opened the study door, and putting down the fish on the floor cried out rudely, ”Master has sent you a turbot.” ”Young man,”