A Nut lay dying. He was twenty-five. He had had a good time--too
good--and the end was near.
There was no hope, but alleviation was possible. "Is there anything," he
was asked, "that you would like?"
He was plucky and prepared for the worst.
"Yes," he said, "I'd like to know what I've spent since I was twenty.
Could that be arranged?"
"Easily," they said.
"Good," he replied. "Then tell me what I've spent on my bally old
stomach--on food."
"On food," they replied. "We find that you have spent on yourself an
average of a pound a day for food. For five years that is, roughly,
£1825."
"Roughly?" said the Nut.
"Yes. Counting one leap year, it would be £1826. But then you have
entertained with some freedom, bringing the total to £3075."
"Yes," said the Nut. "And what about drinks?"
"We find," was the reply, "that on drinks your average has been eighteen
shillings a day, or £1643 8s. 0d. in all."
"Good heavens!" said the Nut. "What a noble thirst! And clothes?"
"The item of clothes comes to £940," they said.
"Only three figures!" said the Nut. "How did I come to save that odd
£60, I wonder?"
"Not by any idea of economy," they replied. "Merely a want of time."
"And let's see," said the Nut, "what else does one spend money on? Oh,
yes, taxis. How much for taxis?"
"Your taxis," they said, "work out at seven shillings a day, or £639 2s.
0d."
"And tips?" the Nut inquired.
"Tips," they said, "come to £456."
The Nut lay back exhausted and oxygen was administered. He was very near
the end.
"One thing more," he managed to ask. "What have I paid in cloak-room
fees for my hat and stick?"
"Only £150," they said.
But it was enough: he fell back dead.
* * * * *
"An extremely able statement of the case for Federation is made
up in a little book by Mr. Murray Macdonald and Lord Charnwood,
which is just published (T. Fisher Unwin, 22s. 6d.)"--_Daily
News._
Look out for a really big book by the same authors, at £22.
* * * * *
We have long waited for a good definition of "tact," and here it is in
_The Transvaal Leader_:--
"The police handled the large crowds who assembled at the
station with considerable tact. One obstreperous fellow who
appeared to be the worse for liquor got the butt-end of a rifle
in his jaw after grossly insulting a constable, and he was then
chased off by the crowd, who appeared to appreciate the tact of
the police."
* * * * *
A chance for Mr. LLOYD GEORGE:--The Deforestation
of Bootle.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Instructor._ "Now then, none of that hupside down flying
'ere; you ain't in the haviation corps."]
* * * * *
"FOR PROFESSIONAL SERVICES."
"You know this sort of thing isn't good enough," said I, returning the
document to Minerva.
"His charges are certainly high," observed the lady of the house; "but I
don't think, Jack, we could get as good a doctor anywhere for less
money."
"I don't complain about the charges; I suppose they are all right. What
I object to is this pompous way of telling me I am in his debt: '_Mr.
John Spratt to Dr. Thom. For Professional Services to date, Ten
Guineas_.'"
"But, my dear, they all do it like that."
"Then they shouldn't. Tradesmen give full particulars of all charges
made for their services: why not doctors?"
"Oh, they would never agree to _that_, Jack!" said Minerva in surprise.
"It isn't etiquette. After all, a doctor is a doctor!"
"Let us hope so. At times I doubt it. But that is not the story. How do
you suppose I am to check this account without the necessary details?"
"My dear," exclaimed Minerva, "how positively quaint you are! One never
dreams of checking a doctor's account; one simply pays. Imagine asking a
doctor for an invoice! The idea!"
"And a jolly good idea too," I said. "Then we should know where we were.
Would you pass your butcher's bills if they merely said, '_For
Commercial Services to date_'?"
"That is quite a different matter. Doctors are not butchers."
"Sometimes surgeons are, so it comes to much the same. Anyhow, I object
to paying money without knowing what for. Let's apply for an invoice, if
only for the principle of the thing."
"We'll do nothing of the sort," said Minerva rather sharply. "It sounds
so mean, Jack, to ask a doctor for a detailed account--almost as if we
didn't trust him."
"I shall mention that to the butcher next time I see him, and to the
other tradesmen. It will save you a lot of trouble about the domestic
accounts."
"Don't be absurd. If you're so anxious to have those petty details I
think I can remember all the doctor's visits for you, without worrying
him."