AS THE TCA North Star lowered in toward Dorval early one winter evening two Montrealbound businessmen in adjoining seats watched the lights slide by the cabin window. “That’s Lachine down there,” one explained to the other. “You know—when Jacques Cartier got there he thought he was in China.”
“Yeah?” said the other thought-; fully. “He sure goofed.”
A while ago a newspaper in a southwestern Ontario town reported that a man’s grey fedora hat has been found in a bagful of mail collected from local postboxes. If anybody who read the story has been wondering how a man could possibly drop his hat into a mailbox without knowing it the truth is that he probably couldn’t. The explanation subsequently supplied us by a Parade spy in the post office is even more remarkable. It was the route man’s own hat that fell off his head into his mailbag while he was scooping letters from a post box. And he didn’t have a clue where he’d mislaid it until he saw the item in the paper.
Civic morals go all to heck in old Bytown, as chronicled in an Ottawa Journal headline: Ottawa City Council Disrobes.
The elderly usher in the little PEI village church passed the collection plate with great seriousness, fixing the occupants of each pew with a probing gaze as he awaited the plate’s return. His face registered concern from the moment he saw one young teen-ager pass the plate without making any contribution. His troubled look steadily deepened as the plate
reached the rear of the church and passed back to him along the final row. There he hesitated a moment, then darted up the aisle again to the pew where the young lad sat and reached over to thrust the plate under his nose a second time. The nongiver got to his feet, stared steadily back at the determined collection taker and slowly turned his pockets inside out for the whole congregation to see.
A fellow who used to teach school in Dawson Creek, B.C., tells us that the teachers used to take turns making occasional tours of the local pool halls and juke-box joints during class hours on the lookout for errant pupils. One day when it was his turn
to play truant officer our informant found a husky Grade 12 lad in the pool hall and demanded to know what was the idea. “Well sir,” said the youth, “it so happens I’ve just been to the doctor to see about these spots I’ve got and he says I got the measles so I thought I’d better come down here where the light isn’t bright enough to hurt my eyes.”
Turned out he did have measles, too, though the treatment may not have been precisely what the doctor ordered.
We have every sympathy for the visiting minister who preached a temperance sermon in Woodstock, Ont., only to have the choir respond with the anthem, O Taste and See. But we have very little for the minister in Moose Jaw, Sask., who sat down in his home study to compose a sermon entitled Fire and Water without a thought for the consequences. He hadn’t finished before the house caught fire, of course; and after the firemen ar rived there was even more damage s by water, naturally.
The Toronto motorist was in and out of so many gas stations on his trip home from Vancouver that he doesn’t remember just where thishappened, but he swears it did. Drove into one of those big gleaming super-service emporiums, asked for four dollars worth of gas, handea over the money and headed for the washroom. Returning he found the'« whole staff giving his car the works —two men under the hood, one cleaning windows, a fourth checking tires. The way they bowed from the waist as he drove off made him feel like a king, until he discovered they’d forgotten to put in any gas.
Parade pars $5 to $10 for true, humorous anecdotes reflecting the cur * Canadian scene. ISo contributions can be returned. Address Parade, e 3 Maclean's Magazine, 481 University Ave., Toronto.
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