JUDGING BY APPEARANCES.

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 204, 28 August 1926, Page 26

JUDGING BY APPEARANCES.

(By EDITH BURTON.)

It is a habit human nature has to judge by appearances, and appearances 60 often lead us astray. Yet we are not entriely blameworthy when we strive to arrive at conclusions by tlie aid of "outward and visible signs." At the same time an old saw advises Us to "believe only one quarter of what we hear, and one half of what we see." This last injunction of course sounds absurd, until ,ye realise that "things are not always what they seem," which is another canny saying bearing on this subject. "What a perfect bore that man Jones _3," says someone. "I pity his poor family." "You need not," answers a friend, who knows Jones well, "he is just delightful in his own home; he keeps his best side for his own fireside." A trait wihch is rather rare. "Did you notice those dreadful ornaments at Mrs. C.s? Yet the rest of the room was very nice; appalling taste poor thing." The "poor thing" is not "tasteless," she is only loyal and staunch to those dear old friends, who spent much good ;roney on those atrocious "art" objects. "The Robinsons are terribly mean," neighbours say; "give such miserable 6ubs. to any poor purpose, and he has such a splendid income and only two children." Robinson is sending monthly sums to an aged mother and delicate sister, but does not fee' disposed to explain to all and suudry why he has to practise economy. Porter wants to get a very special birthday present for his wife this year, and takes the rather dashing little Mrs. Brown into hie confidence. Twice they meet in town to look at various articles, and the least Porter can do is to provide tea; and of course each time they run into mutual friends, who shake their heads sadly (outwardly) and gleefully inwardly, and say "Poor Mrs.

Porter, and poor, poor Mr. Brown; but we always 'thought" Mrs. Brown was yery "deep."

Someone saye, "Did you ever see any"thing so perfect ac Mr. Tompkins' manner to Mrs. Tompkins? He won't let her carry the tiniest parcel, and he greets her in the street more like a dear friend than a wife," and they rave and gush over Tompkins. That is Tompkins , beat street manner. At home, he is blind when his wife 6truggles in with a heavy coal scuttle. The beet arm chair is his, and even then he never thinks of drawing the second best one to the fire for Mrs. T. When the phone rings he is etone deaf and Mrs. T. has always to get untang'xl from her knibting or crochet with a weary sizh, to answer the call.

"What an extremely dainty girl Mice Rosebud is," everyone remarks. "Every garment so fresh and fragrant." They have never seen her at 7.45 a.m. in a grease spotted wrapper fastened with a hairpin, a soiled boudoir cap dipping over one eye, heelless stockings in shape" less clippers and spots of yesterday's face cream still in existence.

No, certainly one jc..i.'t judge by appearances; and often one gete some of the nicest surprises in life from those one hae in haste, and rashly, judged by appearances as f earful old duds. We have found under that distracting cover such a 'beautiful inner •hrine. And alas! how often we have flvttered like helplees moths roind that fascinating—that perfectly charming— exterior, only to find at last that we have to drink once more the bitter of a broken friendship. The brutal insincerity of a false friend. '

cl l e WaS , UDveile d in the Ethical Church, Queen's Road, Bayswater, London, recently, a beautiful window which represents Florence Nightingale and wbach stands on the right of the St Joan window unveiled a year ago. As in the former below the saint stand Anatole France and Bernard Shaw, so in the Kigbtmgale window stand a nurse and a soldier among Flanders poppies and English roses. Below are Eiatq'e Republic and the New Testament, the eourcee of Florence Nightingale's inspira-