Brother is coming to rescue The 99! (Post No.4191)

Written by London Swaminathan

 

Date: 7 September 2017

 

Time uploaded in London- 21-18

 

Post No. 4191

 

Pictures are taken from various sources; thanks.

 

A minister was deeply impressed by an address on the evils of smoking given at a synod. He arose from his seat, went over a fellow minister, and said:

“Brother, this morning I received a present of 100 good Cigars. I have smoked one of them, but now I am going home to burn the rest in the fire.”

The other minister arose and said it was his intention  to accompany  his Reverend Brother.

“ I mean to rescue the Ninety- Nine”, he added.

 

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When Dr Creighton was Bishop of London he rode on a train one day with a small, meek curate. Dr Creighton, an ardent lover of tobacco, soon took out his cigar case and with a smile, said: “You don’t mind  my smoking. I suppose?”

 

The meek curate bowed and answered humbly, “Not if your Lordship doesn’t mind my being sick.”

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PROFANITY ANECDOTES

Mark Twain’s Vocabulary!

Mark Twain’s habit of swearing  was revolting to his wife, who tried her best  of it to cure him  of it. One day, while shaving he cut himself. He recited his entire vocabulary and when he was finished, his wife repeated every word  he had said.  Mark Twain stunned her by saying  calmly, “ You have the words, dear, but you don’t know the tune”

 

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A minister on a fishing trip was delighted to find his guide was once hired by Bishop Philips Brooks . They immediately began to talking about him, recalling many noble traits and characteristics.

“Yes”, said the guide, he was a fine man ‘cept for his swearing”

“What” exclaimed the minister, Bishop Brooks swear? Impossible.

“Oh he did sir. Once he looked a fine big bass. Just as he hoisted him into, the fish slipped and went clean off the hook. So I said to the Bishop, that is a damned shame and the Bishop came back and said, “Yes, it is. But that is the only time I even heard him use such language”

 

–Subham–

 

Poverty Anecdotes (Post No. 3104)

holes in socks

Compiled by London Swaminathan

 

Date: 30 August 2016

 

Time uploaded in London: 9–53 AM

 

Post No.3104

 

Pictures are taken from various sources; thanks for the pictures.

 

 

Comedian’s Poverty

Ned Shutter ,the 18th century comedian, was often very poor, and being more negligent than poor, was careless about his dress. A friend overtaking him one day in the street said to him,  “Why Ned, are you not ashamed to walk the streets with twenty holes in your stockings? Why don’t you get them mended?”

“No, my friend”, said Ned,

“I am above it and if you have the pride of a gentleman you will act like me, and walk with twenty holes, rather than have one darn”.

“How?” replied the other, “how do you make that out?”

“Why, replied Ned, a hole is the accident of the day, but a darn is a premeditated poverty”.

 

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elegy

Lincoln’s Poverty

When Abraham Lincoln once was asked to tell the story of his life, he replied, “it is contained in one line of Gray’s ‘Elegy in a Country Church Yard’:

“The short and simple annals of the poor.”

 

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EdgarAllanPoe-42

Edgar Allan Poe’s Poverty

In December 1846, Edgar Allan Poe, being in the direst need, inserted a notice in ‘The Express’:

“We regret to learn that Edgar A.Poe and his wife are dangerously ill with the consumption (T.B.), and that the hand of misfortune lies heavy upon their temporal affairs. We are sorry to mention the fact that they are so far reduced as to be hardly able to obtain the necessitates of life. This is indeed a hard lot, and we hope the friends and admirers of M Poe will come promptly to his assistance in his bitterest hour of need.”

 

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george_ade

Writer’s Poverty

During his early newspaper days in Chicago, George Ade was accustomed to pawn a large old-fashioned gold watch every Monday morning, to tide him over that trying period between weekly pay checks.

Many years later, when he had become nationally known and attained a certain degree of affluence, Ade met his old pawn broker friend on the street.

“Why, George”, asked the old pawn broker “what happened to you? I haven’t seen you in years. Did you lose your watch?”

 

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Mark Twain’s Poverty

When Mark Twain was a young and struggling newspaper write in San Francisco, a lady of his acquaintance saw him one day with a cigar box under his looking in a shop window.

Mr.Clemens (Mark Twain), she said, I always see you with a cigar box under your arm. I am afraid you are smoking too much.

“It is not that I am moving again, said Mark

 

m twain

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Quarrelsomeness Anecdotes

Keats was a famous little fighter, less in truculent self-assertiveness than by way of high chivalry and defence of the right.

According to his school fellow. E Holmes , “He would be fighting anyone — morning, noon and night, his brother among the rest. It was meat and drink for him.”

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Evolution: Monkey to Man! Some Anecdotes about Ancestors!

a dumas

Article No. 2090

Written by London swaminathan
Date : 21 August  2015
Time uploaded in London :– 15-18

It is a common belief that mankind evolved from the monkeys. But the fact of the matter is man did not evolve from apes like gorillas or chimpanzees but he shares a common ancestor with them. Since there many missing links in the evolutionary ladder, still it debated by the biologists. There are some interesting anecdotes about ANCESTORS.

San-Marino-Abraham-Lincoln-USA

Abraham Lincoln’s Ancestors

Speaking of his ancestry Lincoln once humorously remarked, “ I don’t know who my grandfather was, but I am much more concerned to know what his grandson will be.”

Alexandre Dumas and Baboon!

The elder Dumas was once interviewed by an enterprising reporter, who like many other admirers of the novelist, was curious about his ancestry. “Is it true that you are a quadroon, M.Dumas?”, he asked.

“I am, sir,” Dumas replied.

“So your father……….?”

“Was a mulatto”

“And your grandfather…………?”

“Was a negro.”

Dumas’ patience was running out but the reporter was a bold man. He continued: “And may I inquire who your great- grandfather was?”

“A baboon, sir!” thundered Dumas. “A baboon! My ancestry begins where yours ends!”

((Quadroon : a person who is one quarter black by descent.

Mulatto : a person of white and black ancestry.

Alexander Dumas was famous for his novels and stories such as Three Musketeers. His novels were translated into 100 languages. 200 feature films were on his stories. He wrote 100,000 pages in his life time.))

CONGO - CIRCA 2008: stamp printed by Congo, shows Olive baboon, circa 2008

   CONGO – CIRCA 2008: stamp printed by Congo, shows Olive baboon, circa 2008

baboon2

Mark Twain’s Ancestor!

The story is told that Mark Twain was once a guest of an Englishman who took him, with some pride, into a manorial hall hung with huge tapestry depicting the judging of King Charles the First. The host placed his fingers with great pride upon the figure of one of the obscure clerks of the court and said, “An ancestor of mine.

Twain, always offended by such ostentation, casually put his finger upon one of the judges seated on the tribunal and remarked, “An ancestor of mine but it is no matter, I have others.”

ROMANIA - CIRCA 1960: stamp printed by Romania show Mark Twain, circa 1960.

ROMANIA – CIRCA 1960: stamp printed by Romania show Mark Twain, circa 1960.

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To a man who had proudly said, “My ancestors came over in the Mayflower,” Will Rogers retorted, “My ancestors were waiting on the beach.”

may flower mayflower13

Never lend A Book!

mark twain  clemens

Article No.1978

Date: 6 July 2015

Written by London swaminathan

Uploaded from London at  21-48

A saying in the book Samayochita Padyamalika says,

“Pustakm, Vanita, Vittam Parahasta Gatam Gatam!”

The meaning is that once a book or a woman or money is gone from your hand, it is gone for ever. The following episodes explain it beautifully well.

Mark Twain once went to borrow a certain book from a neighbour.

“Why, yes, Mr.Clemens (Mark Twain), you are more than welcome to it” the neighbour told him. “But I must ask you to read it here. You know I make it a rule never to let any book go out of my library”.

Some days later the neighbour wished to borrow Twain’s lawn mower.

“Why, certainly”, the humourist genially assured him. “You are more than welcome to it. But I must ask you to use it here. You know I make it a rule”

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A visitor in the home of Mark Twain remarked upon the great number of books, many of which piled about without any adequate provision for them.

“You see”, Twain explained, “it is so very difficult to borrow shelves.”

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“I visit my friends occasionally”, remarked Hazlitt bitterly, just to look over my library”

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french stamp  voltaire

The famous French satirical writer, Voltaire, was worth $500, 000 at the age of forty. But he did not earn his money from books. He made most of it by lendng money to noblemen. He would lend an heir to an estate a large sum on condition that he would pay him 10% interest on the amount as long as both of them lived the heir would be neither required nor allowed to pay off the principal; and the agreement ended only when Voltaire died. Voltaire picked only younger men, and because of his tubercular appearance, had no difficulty in getting clients. It is said that when a prospective buyer hesitated, the satirist would cough in a way that always closed the deal.

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Having persuaded Benjamin Franklin to lend him $50, his “poor relation” asked for a sheet of paper in order to give him a note for the sum.

“What”, said Franklin, “do you want to waste my stationery as well as my money?”

benjamin

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The first time Jerrold saw Tom Dibdin, British song writer said to him, “Youngster, have you sufficient confidence in me to lend me a guines?”

(guinea is old gold coin used in Britain)

“Oh, yes” was the reply. “I have all the confidence – but I haven’t the guinea”.

SOURCE: THESARUS OF ANECDOTES

INDIAN CROW

INDIAN CROW by Mark Twain

( Mark Twain (1835- 1910) was an American author. His real name was Samuel Langhorne Clemens. His famous works include The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. His essays are popular and his sense of humour is enjoyed by everyone. His essays on the Indian Crow and India are quoted very often).

 

I suppose he is the hardest lot that wears feathers. Yes, and the cheerfulest, and the best satisfied with himself. He never arrived at what he is by any careless process, or any sudden one; he is a work of art, and “art is long”; he is the product of immemorial ages, and deep calculation; one can’t make a bird like that in a day. He has been reincarnated more times than Shiva; and he has kept a sample of each incarnation, and fused it into his constitution. In the course of his evolutionary promotions, his sublime march toward ultimate perfection, he has been a gambler, a low comedian, a dissolute priest, a fussy woman, a blackguard, a scoffer, a liar, a thief, a spy, an informer, a trading politician, a swindler, a professional hypocrite, a patriot for cash, a reformer, a lecturer, a lawyer, a conspirator, a rebel, a royalist, a democrat, a practicer and propagator of irreverence, a meddler, an intruder, a busybody, an infidel, and a wallower in sin for the mere love if it. The strange result, the incredible result, of this patient accumulation of all damnable traits is, that he does not know what care is, he does not know what sorrow is, he does not know what remorse is, his life is one long thundering ecstasy of happiness, and he will go to his death untroubled, knowing that he will soon turn up again as an author or something, and be even more intolerable capable and comfortable than ever he was before.

In his straddling wide forward step, and his springy sidewise series of hops, and his impudent air, and his cunning way of canting his head to one side upon occasion, here minds one of the American blackbird. But the sharp resemblances stop there. He is much bigger than the blackbird; and he lacks the blackbird’s trim and slender and beautiful build and shapely beak; and of course his sober garb of gray and rusty black is a poor and humble thing compared with the splendid lustre of the blackbird’s metallic sables and shifting and flashing bronze glories. The blackbird is a perfect gentleman, in deportment and attire, and is not noisy, I believe, except when holding religious services and political conventions in a tree; but this Indian sham Quaker is just a rowdy, and is always noisy when awake–always chaffing, scolding, scoffing, laughing, ripping, and cursing, and carrying on about something or other. I never saw such a bird for delivering opinions. Nothing escapes him; he notices everything that happens, and brings out his opinion about it, particularly if it is a matter that is none of his business. And it is never a mild opinion, but always violent–violent and profane–the presence of ladies does not affect him. His opinions are not the outcome of reflection, for he never thinks about anything, but heaves out the opinion that is on top in his mind and which is often an opinion about some quite different thing and does not fit the case. But that is his way; his main idea is to get out an opinion, and if he stopped to think he would lose chances.

I suppose he has no enemies among men. The whites and Mohammedans never seemed to molest him; and the Hindoos, because of their religion, never take the life of any creature, but spare even the snakes and tigers and fleas and rats. If I sat on one end of the balcony, the crows would gather on the railing at the other end and talk about me; and edge closer, little by little, till I could almost reach them; and they would sit there, in the most unabashed way, and talk about my clothes, and my hair, and my complexion, and probable character and vocation and politics, and how I came to be in India, and what I had been doing, and how many days I had got for it, and how I had happened to go unhanged so long, and when would it probably come off, and might there be more of my sort where I came from, and when would they be hanged, – and so on, and so on, until I could not longer endure the embarrassment of it; then I would shoo them away, and they would circle around in the air a little while, laughing and deriding and mocking, and presently settle on the rail and do it all over again.

They were very sociable when there was anything to eat – oppressively so. With a little encouragement they would come in and light on the table and help me eat my breakfast; and once when I was in the other room and they found themselves alone, they carried off everything they could lift and they were particular to choose things which they could make no use of after they got them. In India their number is beyond estimate, and their noise is in proportion. I suppose they cost the country more than the government does; yet that is not a light matter. Still, they pay; their company pays; it would sadden the land to take their cheerful voice out of it.
– Following the Equator