"EVENING STAR" SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT OF ENTERTAINING READING.

U 5-l

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1875.

[Price: ONE PENNY.

Poetry.

UfIBOIiD MAN'S BRIDE.

BT MBS. -. -. MMINO,

„ ..i jraroa thinking to-uight, Athlene ? Kit are you thinking to-night ? «,Mlriiwhite I know X am old, gSLj not jewels, have I not gold ? v«tW, -y beautiful queen, m ' Athlene!

are you sighing to-night? Athlene? %ihttate yeu sighing to-night? i Onssn herself might be pleased to come {■tollin such a magnificent home 'littiilhave given to thee, Athlene!

tftrtini from my proffered caress, Athlene ? _W tnrn *rom my PT°ffere(* caress ? Toawnnot expect a palsied old man Si pet and cwess a3 younger men can ; fSSi O M you my beautiful queen, T Athlene!

iresember when you were a child, Athlene— Vast «P>. when you were a child — Yon old" heaven should spare mv life. gamsday yon would be my beautiful wife, I ms younger, I know, Minever forget it, my queen, Athlene. BdimomiDg they gave you to me, Athlene, f__ morning they g*ve you to me ; Hough the fervor and strength of my life is gone, I nil lore you for ever my beautif al one, kdnofting shill part us, Athlene.

Yon ire strangely quiet, Athlene, gire yon no word for me ? Cone nearer, my love, to the old man's side, lit Mm gaze on the face of hi 3 lovely bride, Athlene. Soffgiwmeyenr hand, my wife, White »'tlw faU9n snow, __i cold at the ice on the frozen stream, SyGod, do I wake from a life-long dream ! Ton never have loved me,

Athlene! Oh, is it for this I have lived, Brisking your heart at last, Chilling your life with sorrow and tears. Ellin? a lovo I have cherished for years ? Kargive me, forgive me, Athlene ! IlwSlnot be long, Athlene, Foj the Binds of my life run low ; Only the fall ola withered oak Qelyßtdgh from a heart, that broke— Ik end, of a weary dream,

Athlene. AM from the shore of Time, A wive from the sea of life ; Oily, Athl»ne, my name to bear : Onlya widow's garb to wear— I shall never be old up there, my wife— There yen will love me, Athlene. * • « * *

Softly, silently into tbe room Skiowa are creeping, Athlene ; The care sod sorrow of iife are o'er, An angel waits at the open door ; The old man sleeps; he will gaze no more On your beautiful face, Athlene.

Varieties.

jA smart thing— A mustard plaster. H'rocks ever bled, they would bleed

A popular writer, epaaking of the ocean fegraph, wonders whether the news trans ited through the salt water will be esh.

'How are ye, Smith ?'says Jones. Smith Btended not to know him, and answered sitatiagly 'Sir, you have the advantage me.' 'Yes, I suppose so. Everybody s that's got common sense.' A lady called upon her milliner the other 7 to get the character of her servant. . The

ipectable appearance of the latter was be fld questioning. ' But is she honest ?' ted the lady. 'I am not so certain about at,'replied the milliner ; ' I have sent her you with my bill a dozen times, and she i never yet given me the money.'

'My young coloured friend,' said an army aplain to a yoang negro, ' can you read ;' fes sah !' ' Glad to hear it,' said the chap - 'Shalll give you a paper ?' ' Sartin, *ssa, if you please.' ' Very good,' contin ue chaplain. ' What paper would you °ose, now?' 'Well, Massa,' said the

mtating negro, ' if you chews, I'll take a peio'terbacker.' frsocENOH and Obstiwacv.—The other ening a Detroit joker slipped a little pink re letter into the pocket of a staid old citi nas they were riding on the street car. <»urse, the old citizen's wife made a dive f Ms overcoat pockets as she passed through I hall, and when she had digested the love ter she determined to commit suicide. we going up stairs after her bonnet she »mad and changed her mind. Walking to the room where he sat before a cheerful B> she exclaimed : 'Loves you better than . own life, eh ?' * Who —What ?' he in- Jttd. 'And she wants to know how that to-headed wife of yours gets along, eh ?' ■NJy-I catl 'fc __j < s h e wa uts $50 % her a set of furs, does she ?' ' What '^T-why, what are-you talking about?' El it's come out—l've got the proofs !' Mhout<s, making a dash for his hair. L hfl worthy man ha 3 sworn the most so jto oaths to his innocence ; offered to let I employ a detective to shadow him ; ac unted for every hour of his absence dur -8 the last year, and furnished fifty theories Kfiard to the letter, and yet the wife '% remarks that Bhe is staying there !e 7 on the childrens account. — Detroit '* Press.

How do you get up your sermons ?' asked _™b one ef Mr. Moody. His reply was : to* a number of years I have kept large en- J 0PcS ) marked, say, ' Blood,' ' Heaven,' fv - e^c *' an^ everything I hear or meet !*S on any of these subjects I make a note « and keep it in these envelopes. After ' me time I have material enough in one of leae envelopes for three or four sermons. *ple sometimes speak of me taking four or | months to prepare a sermon ; it takes me "^fre years/

Mr. E.D. Davies, Ventriloquist.

On Friday next, Mr E. D. Davies, the premier ventriloquist of the world, will give the first of his remarkable entertainments in the City Hall. Daring the past few months Mr Davies has made a most successful tour through the Australian colonies and South ern provinces. His previous career is thus related by himself: —l am a native of the Emerald Isle, having been born at Mohill, County Leitrim, Ireland, September 24th, 1836. My earliest years were spent in Dub lin, my father removing his wife and family to that city when I was a mere baby. I was a born mimic and inherited the gift of ventriloquism to an extraordin ary degsee, so much so that when only ten years old I could imitate the voice of my old schoolmaster to per fection. I was decidedly too perfect. I remember on one occasion receiving for my simulating his voice a severe castigation, which I richly merited. It mattered not what sound took my boyish fancy, whether it was the barking of a dog, the mewing of a cat, the sawing of wood, the voice of a schoolfellow, I could instantly produce it without effort or straining whatever. I am quite convinced that my constant indulging my propensity for mimicing everything in my youth, laid the foundation of my future success as a ventriloquist. I continued at school until I was fourteen years old. Through the influence of Mr Webb, an eminent actor, ;and afterwards lessee of the Queen's Theatre* Dublin, I made my first public appearance on the stage of the Queen's Theatre in Dublin as ventriloquist and Irish comedian. Owing to my extreme youth {I at that time only 15 years old), I took the cognomen of the Dublin " Boy." My entrance into public life was eminently successful. I procured immediately plenty of engagements* and played in all the principal cities of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. When about nineteen years old I made the acquaintance of Dr. James Roberts, a retired physician, a man well ad vanced in years, and a profound scholar. He, admiring my ventriloquism, advised me to assiduously study the anatomy of the vocal organs. I followed his excellent counsel, and became familiar with the mechanical construction with all those neces sary to ventriloquism. After an absence of 5 years I returned to Dublin, yearning to see my parents and friends. Daring this period I performed at Dublin Castle before

the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, the late Earl of Carlisle, who presented me with a handsome watch and chain, honouring me with a few appropriate words of approbation, at the same time predicting for me a brilliant career as a ventriloquist. Since that time I have performed before several of the crowned heads of Europe, and to the most fashion able and critical audiences of the Old World, receiving from many admirers of my art splendid tokens of admiration. Somo few years after that I married. My wife advised me to give an entertainment consisting of ventriloquism only. Con sidering it advisable to cultivate to the

utmost and improve the gift I was by nature so richly endowed with, I commenced with the two figures "Tom" and "Joe," and added by degrees different imaginary voices, discarding entirely from my enter tainment the imitations of animals' peculiar cries, the sawing of wood, in fact everything appertaining to mimicry, giving strictly a legitimate ventriloqueal performance, calling my entertainment " Valentine Vox," resus citated by E. D. Davies in his original enter tainment entitled "Anecdotes and adventures of the funniest of funny folks." My'enter tainment on being introduced in London,

England, created a perfect "furore," it being so entirely diffeernt to any of my compeers, always presenting to my audience a front face, never turning my back to them, articu lating my words as plainly and clearly in ventriloquism as when speaking naturally; my simulated voices never appearing to emen ate from myself, even singing songs in ven triloquism without any visible movement of the lips or muscles of the face, previous artists in my line as a rule making their efforts more or lefs painful to behold. I received visits from celebrated physicians, philosophers and savans, those gentlemen wishing to see me, and judge for themselves the perfection I had brought ven triloquism to. I received, on con cluding my first engagement at the Royal Polytechnic Institution, London, an institution devoted especially to science and arts, testimonial from the late celebrated Professor Owen, the chairman of the Board of Committee connected with the institution. I played at all the principal theatres and halls in London, performing frequently five times in one day and as many as 400 consecutive nights. I had repeatedly received offers from American managers. Finally I made an engagement with Mr J. E. Mc- Donough of Philadelphia. I made my first appearance in America at the St James' Theatre, 28bh street Broadway, New York, Oct. 23rd, 1871, achiev ing a perfect triumph, receiving from the audience on concluding a perfect ovation. I had intended only staying in America six.or nine months. How ever, engagements poured in which I accepted, taking me nearly two years to fulfil them. I could fill a large book with detailing practical jokes I played in my youth on different indi viduals, but for some years new I bave retained my ventriloquial powers for the stage." —Mr Davies has written

many ballads and popular songs, and has been a contributor to one of the most popular American comic paper*;, under a well-known nom-de-plume. He is also the author of several valuable works on ventriloquism. The " Art of Ventriloquism" has already reached the fifth edition. Mr Davies was the first public performer who gave entertainments for the benefit of charit able institutions. He inaugurated thoae perfomances at Paisley 15 years ago, for the benefit of the patients in the Lunatic Asylum, and in whatever town he is staying he invariably takes his company and amuses those poor people who cannot amuse them selves. This he has done all over the world.

c^-2^:^^^^^^^_/

Cream Colour.

A Bomance of Manhattan with a

Pleasant Ending. Jennie June writes as follows to the Baltimore American: A rathe* inter esting denoibement to a little romance occurred the other day, which may be deemed worth relating. Last season, during the latter part of the Winter and Spring, the neighbourhood of one of our most populous and recently fashionable thoroughfares watched with interest the daily comings and goings of a carriage, or rather coupe, drawn by one very beautiful cream coloured horse, and driven by a cream coloured driver; at least that was what he was called, for his cream coloured suit, always the same, and his peculiar cream-coloured, soft felt hat mad,e him look all of a piece with the horse. Twice daily the little coupe stopped before the doors of a well-known up tGwn restaurant, and then a young and.rather distinguished-looking man handed out a pretty, elegant-looking girl, very richly dressed, but not ap parently as blithe and gay as a pretty young girl ought to be. Late in the Spring, a young girl, dressed with seem ingly studious plainness, applied for work at the house of two sisters who carry on together a prosperous, though private dress-making establishment She was told that the lateness of the season rendered it undesirable to take on fresh hands, but her evident dis tress at the prospective failure of her application, and the temporary illness of one of the young la<dies at a time when there was a press of orders, in duced the kind-hearted woman (the general superintendent) to whom she was referred to reconsider her determin ation, and the young girl was taken on with the understanding that the, en gagement could only last a short time. But her grace, her sweetness, the quiet gentleness of her manner and fidelity in executing her work, not to mention a certain deftness and taste in arrang ing trimmings very unusual in an or , dinary hand, endeared her to her em ployers, and early in the Summer they admitted her as an inmate of their 'house, and, had it not been for her

obstinate reserve and deep and constant depression, would have desired to look upon her as a daughter. In the meantime, through the Sum mer, the coupe, with its cream-coloured appendages disappeared—went no one knew whither. About three weeks ago, however, they suddenly resumed their diurnal visits at the restaurant before mentioned, but this time with only one occupant, the distinguished looking man before referred to; and it was this same coupe, its horse, its driver, and its master, which, ten days later, stopped at the door of the private dress-makers' in place, to tho no small curiosity of every inmate of the somewhat staid and highly respectable concern. A request on the part of the gentle man to see Miss P. sesulted in that young lady being sent for, and also in a reactionary shock, which caused her to drop to the floor in a deathly swoon. She was laid upon a sofa, and recov ered to find the gentleman of the cream-coloured coupe applying to her every term of endearment. To be brief, a marriage took place then and there, to the immense astonishment of the maiden sisters, who had so kindly cared for the hapless girl, and though they received a very rich token of remembrance from the bridegroom, they learned very little of the persons in whose welfare they had so strangely become interested, except that the young girl was not originally a resi dent in this city, but had become acquainted with the gentleman at a Summer watering-place; that his re fusal to fulfil his solemn promise had induced her to leave him, and seek to earn a livelihood among strangers; that he had repented, and finally found her through his cream-coloured driver, who had seen her enter the house of her employers.

The following advertisement recently ap peared in the London Times : ' A married lady of position wishes to find a young lady as companion and friend who would accom pany her into society. Age about twenty eight. She must be thoroughly competent to dress hair a la mode, and to undertake the care of chignons, and to be a good needle woman. N« other duties whatever. A lady of affectionate disposition would meet with much kindjpeas and a happy home. Salary £2Q a year, with £4 for beec or wioe/

A Lunatic's Joke.

The superintendent of an insane asylum in France, while passing through the wards recently, noticed a man of very in offensive appearance sobbing in his bed like a child. ' My poor friend, what is the matter?' inquired the physician. ' Ah, sir,' said the lunatic, ' my next neigh bour has played me a sad trick, fie con cealed my knife, and I have been looking for it two hours without being able to find it.' Then, he added, with a smile, child like and bland,' But I will play him a fine trick in return.' ' That's all right.' said the superintendent consolingly, patting him on the shoulder as he passed on. Two days • later, the superintendent chanced to walk through the same room early in the morning. His insane friend stopped him and said, ' I have found my knife again, and have played that trick on my comrade, as I told you I should do.' ' How is that ?' ' While he was asleep I hid his head.' ' This man is very crazy, thought th<s superintendent; theu he asked: ' And what did you do with it then ?' ' I put it in the lineu closet ; but you need not tell him,' was the answer. The physician walked mechanically to the closet, opened the door and looked in. The head of the lunatic's Gomrade was there.

The Village Barber.

He thought he recogniaed me the moment I entered the door, bat I refused to encourage him in the belief. It was a strange town to me, all the ptsople were strangers, and I was so far from home thab I doubted if man, woman or child in that locality had ever met me before.

Tqo barber smiled tenderly as he pointed to the chair, and then led off as familiar as if he had shaved me every day for a month past. I did not pretend to hear him as he was not to be beaten.

"I hope you'll do well here," he s«id as he pushed my head over, and daubed the lather on the right cheek, commencing at the but of the ear.

(Silence on my part.)

"This town needs another dry goods store," he continued after a moment," and I shouldn't wonder if you just coined money." (Long silence.)

Perhaps it was the silence which convinced him that he had made a mistake, but he was not discouraged. As he lathered the other cheek he suddenly said :

" There are three or foui lawyers here now, but, as Christopher Columbia said, ' There's room at the top of the heap,' and I think you'll be fail of business all the time." Ho was looking right down into ipy face

and through the foam of lather hemight have detected a faint smile, a frown or some other expression which hurt his conceit. He in stantly suspected that he had made another mistake. I was looking into the glass on the wall and I Baw his counten ance change. Some barbers would not have pursued the subject farther, bat he was the only barber in the village; and he felt that had certain rights, which he felt I was bound to respect. He might have reasoned that I was mulish and obstinate and needed coaxing and flattering, or per haps he theorized that I was timid and hesi tating, and wanted encourageing. At any rate, he soon attacked me again, Baying :

" This a nice village, but I never saw so much sickness in my life as we have had this year. Our doctors don't seem to know enough to manage the diseases, and I'm glad you are going to open an office. I'm pretty healthy as a general thing, but if I get sick I'll give you my custom in preference to anyone else." Still watching the glass, I saw a self-satis fied smile rippled across his face. For about half a minute he was dead sure in his own mind that he ha d boxed me up.

Then a shade of suspicion crossed his face, Silence sometimes gives consent, but iv this case, after scrutinising my face sharply for an instant, ho interpreted it to mean that he blundered again. He was vexed. I had no right to sit there and treat his round the corner queries with such contemptuous silence. He would pay me for such conduct. I saw the spirit of resolve creep over his face, and he said :

" I was saying only the other day that this town was able to support another black smith's shop! Old Jones is good hearted, but he knows no more about shoeing a horse than a coon does about sailing a canal boat." His eyes glistened, and he took no pains to keep down the chuckle of satisfaction bubbling up into his throat. He regarded it as a line short —a crusher—and if he hadn't boen shaving my chin at that time he would have been unable to suppress a laugh.

His razor cross the chin, scraped up aan down, and skipped around to the jugular vein before the barber's smile faded. He had been watching me to catch a start of surprise or a look of displeasure, or some thing to guide his opinion ; and as he had been unsuccessful, he renewed the lather on the left cheek and sighed drearily. I hoped he was a man of determination, and trusted that he would not give up. Fear ing tbat he would, I was about to speak, when he smiled blandly and remarked :

" I can tell a school teacher the minute I set eyes on him ?

(Lather and silence)

"And it's funny too," he continued, " that I have shaved every professor in the normal school here the first morning of his arrival, and have told each and every one that he was a professor before he had said a word to me.

(Silence and shave.)

"Well, I suppose teaching is a good pay ing business," he went on, as he looked my face over to see if he had skipped a spot, " and I'm willing to help you all I can. I haven't any children—am not married—but if ever I get married and have children I'll send them to school to you." His persistence and flattery deserved some encouragement, but I was determined to hold out to the last ditch. He shut up his razor with a quick, vexed motion, tossed it on the sand regardless of damages, and he smiled maliciously as he got down the bottle of unadulterated bay rum. I knew it would bite like a serpent and Bting like an adder, but could I show less stoicism than he had shown diplomacy and persistency ? Didn't I commence the struggle ? I shut my teeth, looked straight into ; the glass, aud he sopped the fiery stuff over my cheeks and chin. He expected a squirm and a yell, and his surprise was great. The light of revenge had crept into his eyes but it quickly faded away, and as he replaced the bottle and wiped my face with the towel he said :

I never saw but one other man who could stand bay rum like that, and he was a re turned Californian. The climate of that country hardens the flesh, I suppose." I refused to reply. He got angry again, dug my scalp as he combed my hair, gave my head several uneasy twists, knocks and pushes, and he jerked the big calico apron off my lap as if he hated me. However, curiosity suddenly overcame his vexation of spirit, and as he brushed me off he said—

The town ought to support another under taker, and if I can be of any assistance in finding you a shop you can call upon me day or night.

I wouldn't speak, and I heard him gritting his teeth. He also struck me several hard blows with the brush, and once tried to hit me fair on the nose. I thought I had r\i s . couraged him, but just as I put on r^y hat aod opened the door he made a \p_ 6 _ desper ate charge. Smiling sweetly, ho inquired : " Less see ! Eeverend—Reverend— what did you say it was ?—Roy. Mr Brown ?" I didn't say.— The Q.apMo.

One Dr. Befchune used to tell a good story about two Scotchmen, who came to this country several years ago. 'What's the matter, Andrew, that ye seem sac troubled this morning ?' I had a fearful dream in th© nicht.' 'What did ye dream?' 'I dinna like to tell. 5 ' Did ye dream ye saw the deil?' 'No, it vas far waur than that.* ' Did ye dream yer mither was dead-.?.'. 'No it was far waur than that-.' * Well, what did ye dream, mon ?■'. ' Why, I dreamed I was hame again.'

He put an enemy in his mouth to steal away his brains, but the enemy, alter a thorough and protracted search, returned without anything, ™

