IN THE BOX-ROOM.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 171, 21 July 1928, Page 2 (Supplement)

IN THE BOX-ROOM.

(By Wilfred Wharfe, 7, Maungakiekie | Avenue, Green Lane, Auckland.) J It was midnight in the box-room of a country house iu England, to which a number of visitors had come for the week-end. An ancient hair trunk, very bald in patches, had lain in that room without being moved for a century. It naked if tho coach journey had beeu easy. "I havo asked this question every week for years," it said, "but no one has ever answered. I havo always been at the far end of tho room, but this week I havo been moved much nearer to you •11." ''Coach!" exclaimed a hold-all. "What coach ?" "Did you not come by coach?" asked tho trunk. "Then, I suppose, it was a post-chaise 1" "Speaking for myself," said the holdall, "I came by motor; but most of the others came by train. Coaches are quite out of date; and as for the other thing you mentioned, I have never heard of it." i "Well, well!" quavered tho old trunk. "That is strange. I went everywhere in the boot." "Talking of boots," said a very grand boot box, "I wonder how many of you liavo travelled iu tho tail of an aeroplane, as I did the other day, from Paris -—very uncomfortable and dangerous, I thought. Wo wero very ill. I hml uo idea that tho air was so rough." "I dou't know what you ure talking about," s,aid tho old trunk. "I remember the 'Sky Kocket' coach, but we didn't call it an airy anything, although it was airy enough ou the roof, goodness knows." "Speaking of novel adventures," said tho Gladstone bag, who thought that the old trunk had said enough, "I am probably the only bag here that has been slashed open by a thief — a horrible experience, I can tell you. It happened in a Paris hotel, and the thief went off with a thousand pounds. I had a most exciting time. I was powdered for linger prints and a great French detective examined me; but the thief was not caught, and my poor owner had to return t.o l,"iil •• whi»rt» I wis stitched up. It was nothing to do with me, but he never forgave me, and now I belong to his nephew." "How terriblo!" said tho brand-new suitcase, with a shiver. "Oh, you have a lot to learn yet," eaid a kitbag. "You aro still very young," "I may bo young," said the suitcase, "but the cow from whose skin I was mado was old, very old. I heard thq workmen say so." "That may be," said the kitbag, "but what do cow's know, anyway? Nothing but paddock talk and cow-bail chatter. Cows set) nothing of the great world. y<>, my lad, experience in our life can come only with age." "And travel," put in an old, but still active trunk covered with stains and patches and strongly bound at the corners. "Travel is the thing. Age can bo the lot of tho stay-at-homes; experience needs iiion'iucnt. Wait till you havo been to India, as f have, and China, and the Cape, and America." But all travel neeil not bo abroad," ?aid a new voice. "This notion that you are no good unless you have left your own country is absurd." "Who is that speaking?" asked the trunk, whose sight and hearing, from i ago and much battering on foreign raitv.ay stations and sudden bumps into tho holds at steamers had not been improved. J liat," replied the kitbag, "is a leu,iiieretto made of sham leather, vou know," * * wls ] l to k ' low what a lea the r■te thinks about anything?" asked the t link, with dee,, scorn iu his voice. What I should like to know," said an iron-bound box '"is wliv i . A > ""> tltere are no • ;,r "'u ! >oru ' lß <"ore careful. I • till ache till over f r ,„„ the treatment I e.-e.vcd .yesterday. Why have porters no mercy ;" 1 ° 1 it£T""Vn ,lUy I !° VOr travt ' l " sakl the f' -No one has ever seen a porter ravelling. If they did, and their own luggage was injured, they would be more thoughtful 1 hey stay for ever on the same plotter,» .being noisy with doors and rough with luggage." s