RANDOM SHOTS

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 53, 2 March 1907, Page 12

RANDOM SHOTS

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Some write a neighbour's name to lash; : Souse vrrite — vain thought — for needful casii. Some write to please the country clash, And raise a din. For mc, an aim I never fash— I write for fun. I wonder if money is scarce* at Home just now than it is here. I have just been reading an account of a highly romantic scene in an English Court, which has driven mc to the conclusion that the gold famine has reached an extreme pitch of intensity in England. A much distressed widow came before a certain London tribunal, protesting with many tears that a creditor had put a bailiff into her house, and that she was out of ■work, but could pay the debt if she o-ot a little time. His Honor melted visibly at the sight of the woman's distress, and offered her 2/ to pay the bailiff an account. But the widow explained that the debt amounted to 5/9. and that the creditor wouldn't take less. ZSTow, what did that generous judge do? Did he at -once pull out the extra 3/9, and send the widow back in triumph to confront the invader of her hearth and home? Not so, my dear reader, you have evidently been brought up wii'u extravagant "colonial"' ideas. What he did was to pocket one of de shillings and give her the other. "'Here, my good woman."' he said (his voice, I presume, half choked with emotion), "take this shilling, and get something for yourself, and God bless you. Xow go and make yourself happy." I intentionally stopped at the end of that benevolent speech, so as to give myself and my readers time to reflect upon it. I can assure you that it was meant quite seriously; and the whole episode was reported in a very eminent London paper as an instance of kindliness and generosity on the part of a public official, whose heart might be expected to have become hardened through frequent contact with the worse side of human nature. ' The only parallel to it that I can recall is the well-worn story of the millionaire—some people say he was Scotch and some American—who, being at last induced to listen to the importunities of a starving cripple, gave him a penny, and urged him to be careful not to make a bea-st of himself with it. I dnn : t say that the learned judge in question was morally bound to pay the old lady's debt. But also I don't see ■why. knowing that she owed 5/9, he should first offer her 2/, and then give her a shilling and tell her to go and make herself happy. And still less do I understand why this should be publicly cited as an illustration of the good" old British characteristic of generosity. If it is so. I am afraid that British" standards of generosity would hardly fit these colonies. Hovrever. as I suggested at first, perhaps the drain of gold has been more severe than we imagine at Home; and perhaps it all has something to do -with Preferential Trade. ■i"l'"l , 'l"i*'i"l"i'"l"3r I "note/ , as commercial gentlemen invariably say. that there is a great outcry in Wellington and Christchurch for ' the free importation of grapes from "the other side." Not owning a vineyard, I have no personal objection to this step. Bvt I feel constrained to remind my readers that there is death in the grape —not in the prohibitionist way, you -understand, but in. the botanical and biological and bacteriological sense. A very distinguished Trench scientist Earned iletehnikoff, has just declared that grapes are deadly. poison, unless you take the most elaborate precau-' tion?. Eating grapes ' ; in the rough" is suicidal he tells us. and to give them to a child is "a deadly crime/ The trouble is not only that the grape seeds are "the liveliest incentive to appendicitis" but the skins are covered, with a line dust "winch is a hot bed for deadly microbes/ Of course, you say, vrhy not wash the grapes? That is not enough for Professor 2\letchnikoff. He has examined grapes microscopically after they have been thus perfunctorily cleansed, and he has found "billions of the most deadly microbes swarming over their skins." Your only chance is to throw the grapes into boiling v.-ater. That settles the microbes, and then if you are careful to suck the gTape-juiee and never to swallow a single stone, you mnj possibly survive. However, the eminent Frenchman admits that you have just a chance of continuing to live even if you don't boil your grapes, and personally I am going to risk it. But tvnat a terribly complicated affair all these restrictions are going to make of our lives! Professor Metchnikoff, for instance, is not content with condemning grapes—he wants to ostracize apples, peaches, plums, apricots, and cherries as well. Then there is another Professor—an Englishman this time — •who would sweep from our bill-of-fare oranjres and bananas, blackberries, almonds and cocoanuts, and all on unimpeachable scientific grounds. Moreover, zor various convincing hygienic reasons, he would prevent us from eating chicken, veal, duck, and turkey, grouse, pigeon, hare, and partridge, pork, nam, and venison, cakes and pastry, puddings and ices. After this I need hardly add that he forbids us to drink tea or coffee, spirits, or liqueurs. And when I had finished with him I came across; a little pamphlet in which some ingenious person had put together a great m-ass of medical evidence, one half of ■which proved that all our food ought to k; cooked, and the other half showed. crtarraflivdy that cooking entirely destroys the nutritious properties of our v;ar.fls. What are unfortunate mortals to do in the fape of these omnipresent and multifarious dangers? Personally, as I said about the grapes, I think I will take my chance. But what a pity it is that these eminent scientists 3iavcn"t enough consideration for us to keep these dreadful discoveries to themselves. President Roosevelt tells a story of a vi=it he once paid to a bookseller's shop in Idaho, just after he had written his work "The Winning of the West" He picked up a copy from the counter, and said to " the bookseller, "Who is this jiuthor Boosevelt?" "Oh," w as tfle an " ewer, "he's a ranch driver up in the cattit; country." "What do you think of hia book'/" "Well," said the dealer, •Tve always thoug-ht I'd like to meet that author, and tell him that if he'd etuck to running ranches, and not tried •to write books, Mi have cut a heap digger furore at his trado and been ft lijgger mas,?»