SERENADING HIMSELF.
We sometimes think that the funny situations in the pictures in the comic papers are too absurd to be real, and yet every day there happen things quite as absurd as any there depicted. One of the German newspapers gives an account of how a steady old burgomaster recently serenaded himself, which certainly brings before our minds a picture quite as laughable as any we have seen in print. The story is to this effect: Herr Nötel, merchant and burgomaster, who is passionately fond of singing, is the first tenor and president of the Schnitzelburg glee-club. The club consists of only a single quartet, but small as is their number, the greater is their enthusiasm for the songs of Germany. Nötel would shortly celebrate his silver wedding. They must give him a serenade; there was no help for it. But what was a quartet without the first tenor? There was no getting a substitute, but for all that they would give Nötel a surprise. On the eve of the festal day the three members of the club, armed with lanterns, met at the appointed time before the house of their respected president, and after some clearing of throats and twanging of tuning-forks the music began. A small crowd collected in the street, and the windows in the vicinity were lined with appreciative listeners. The Herr Burgomaster and his family also appeared at the windows of their brightly illuminated sitting-room. The first bars of the well-known song, "Silent Night," left much to be desired, but the three voices bravely held on their way amid the surrounding stillness, and in a few moments Herr Nötel went down into the street and joined in the quartet. No sooner was the song finished than he ran up stairs again, appeared at the open window, and in loud clear tones thanked the club for their ovation. Seen on a public stage, an old gentleman madly rushing up stairs to a window to thank himself for serenading himself would cause a good deal of laughter.
ODD ITEMS FROM EVERYWHERE.
It was a very homely old lady in Scotland who remarked, as she gazed into a looking-glass, that they didn't make as good mirrors to-day as they did when she was a girl, because she thought modern looking-glasses made her look so old.
It was said to be a Maine man who told an agent for a cyclopædia that he didn't want one, because he hadn't time to learn to ride one, and he didn't wish to risk his neck trying it, anyhow.
A story is told of a grocer engaged in business in a London suburb, to the effect that he once declined to attend a very popular concert even though a free ticket was offered him. "Ye see," he said to the person who gave him the ticket, "if I went I'd see so many people who owe me money for groceries it would spoil my fun, and the sight o' me would spoil theirs. I'll stay at home."