Lighter Side Of Country Dentist's Travels

I once stayed at the same hotel as a dentist who travelled in the more remote parts of the country. One of his tales was against himself. 

An elderly pioneer, with distinctly spongy gums, took his place in the chair. As the district was one in which a well balanced diet was almost unavoidable with the mixed farming that went on, the dentist concluded that the patient's wife must have been indulging in an orgy of cake-making. 

'You ought to eat more hard food,' he suggested. The patient bridled. 'I've been living on stale bread and salt hard tack all my life,' he roared. 'What do you expect me to start on now— cement and horseshoes?' 

Another pioneer came in, apparently in great pain, and opened his mouth to disclose two pink gums as bare as the top of his head. 'Well, I can't see much the matter with you,' the dentist remarked cheerfully. 'I suppose you want a full upper and lower denture?' 'I don't want any plates!' the old fellow announced. 'I've done without any teeth at all for twenty years now, and my gums will see my time out. The trouble is that I'm cutting my wisdom teeth, and I want the gums lanced!' Sure enough he was! 

A woman came in with a plate for remodelling and repairs. Not only was the vulcanite cracked across, but the teeth themselves were soft and spongy, flakes breaking off on the thumbnail. 'Surely the mechanic who made these didn't put natural teeth in them?' demanded the incredulous dentist. 

'Of course, he did, in spite of raising a shine about it, too!' the patient replied with a pugnacious thrust of her jaw outwards. 'I insisted on it, and the clumsy idiot softened them oh me!' 'Well what am I supposed to do about it?' 'Make them hard again!' A practical demonstration with a vulcaniser finally convinced her that there is a reason for making artificial teeth out of porcelain. 

In case the automatic hammer on his engine should break down far from mechanical help, he used to carry a spare hammer for gold fillings, of a type still used extensively by hand until quite recent times. On one occasion, the contingency happened to arise, just as an old bush man was sitting up expectantly waiting for his filling. 

The dentist completed the drilling operations, and prepared to insert the gold. He took up the hammer, and the patient dived for his hat. 'What's the trouble?' 'I thought you coves used forceps. If I've got to sit up to a hammer and nail again. I'm going over to the blacksmith's for the job,' came the explanation, with a contemptuous glance at the minute hammer. 'It'll only take the one hit with a striker's hammer!' 

Then came the tale of an old woman who demanded a ten years' guarantee with her denture, which was composed, at her request, of the cheapest materials available. Few people know that the best dentist, in the world cannot guarantee a plate to last five minutes after putting it in the patient's mouth, even when it is made of quality ingredients, and the dentist vainly tried to explain this. The patient backed him into a corner. 'Are you going to guarantee my teeth or not?' she demanded. 'Madam,' came the dentist's despairing and successful thrust, 'did the Almighty guarantee your own?' — 'Fisher.'

"There's A Man In Our Room!" 

Many years ago a young man from the South-East journeyed to the city, and applied for lodgings at one of the large boarding houses. 

The landlord of the premises showed him into a room on the top floor with three beds in it, one at each side of the entrance door, and the other across under the window; he accepted the one under the window. 

The young man explained that he was going out to see some friends, and it would be late before he got back. The landlord assured him that that would be all right, but to come in quietly in case anyone else took the other beds. 

He turned up about midnight, took off his boots before going up the stairs, and as there was a street lamp nearly opposite the window, he did not bother to switch on the light, but noticed that the other two beds were occupied. The young man had a habit of sleeping with his head almost beneath the bed clothes and his face to the wall. 

When the morning was well advanced, he was awakened by voices which he thought were those of the house girls going about their morning work. After lying half awake for a short time, he turned over, yawned, and stretched his hands above his head. 

As he did so, he saw two young women stepping in to things, and chatting in lively mood. His yawn caused them to look round, and seeing a man in the other bed they set up fearful screams, and ran out on to the landing yelling — 'There's a man in our room; he's been there all night,' with a good many etceteras thrown in. 

The land lady was soon up the stairs, and the young women, almost in hysterics, explained that there was a man in the other bed, and he's been there all night. The landlady assailed the young fellow for his untoward conduct. He explained that he had slept in the bed allotted to him, and was in no way responsible for the trouble that had happened. 

The landlord, having heard the rumpus, came on the scene, and hesitatingly explained that he had allotted the young man the bed he had slept in, but (scratching his head) admitted that he had omitted to register it. The young man hastily dressed himself and went off to look for fresh lodgings. — 'Tanta Tyga.'

Letting Reins Get Under His Tail 

Mrs. Binns had spent most of her early life in England before coming to Australia had had little experience with horses. After she had been living here for some time, her husband purchased a quiet old pony for her, which she used to drive to the township near their farm. 

It was a very quiet animal, but, as it was not so very young it was full of tricks, as most old horses are. Mr. Binns warned his wife that she must not let the reins get under the pony's tail, as it might get frightened and bolt if she did so. 

One rainy day, as a neighbor was coming along the road, he saw Mrs. Binns standing in the rain with an open umbrella held over her horse. 

'Whatever are you doing?' he enquired. 'Oh,' she replied. 'When we bought this horse the owner said that we must never let the rain get under his tail, but I hope that this shower doesn't last too long, or I'll be wet through myself.'

— Darkie.