THE SNACK.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 46, 23 February 1935, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE SNACK.

"Railroad journeys in this country seem to me to be just one big eat." said an American woman tourist, who has spent some weeks in the Dominion. Remarking on the number of stations on the various lines at which time was allowed for the procuring of refreshments, the visitor said: "People seem to jump out of trains at every opportunity for the purpose of joining the scramble for the refreshment rooms, and return to their cars laden with cups of tea and food, which appear to satisfy them for only a few miles." He paced the platform, haggard, spent, forlorn, Longing for sustenance. For two drear hours HcM starved. Oh for the pleasant home Where dwelt the traveller on that dreadful murn. Breakfast, alas! had been a hasty Snack, A few slight eggs, some bacon, porridge (twice), Little indeed to strengthem liira—alack. E'en with some simple toast—a onceround slice.

Some simple sandwiches, two cups of ten, To fortify his tissues —pregnant need ! Two hours to luncli ' Ye gods what ecstasy To be allowed a little wa.vside feed ! Then with a frugal bag of chocolate creams, Or oranges (couple), grapes a bunch, To sit a-dreamin;:. lovely hopeful dreams 01' a good " binder " when it comes to lunch.

The leaping Limited (lies southward fast, No peanut vendors dot the wide terrain, All hope of sustenance, alas! seems past, No cutlets cooked in oil are on the train. Hope springs eternal in the hungriest soul, The fainting passenger has but to ask For biscuits, apples or tho (lowing bowl; The man in summer togs presents his flask.

Ah ! Is there time at Wharetikipu To dash across the metals?—oh he fears They'll have no bread and cheese. Alas! 'tis very I rue, Two minutes are too short for two long beers. Still, bodied comforts, biscuits and the hoard Of packet-lunches wile the weary way, And (iie official cry of "All aboard!" Heralds the passing of a hungry day.

The destination ! Thanksgiving for a town Where passengers 110 longer faint and pine, When good fat pork and crackling crisp and brown, Will forfifv the innards like old wine. Too weak with hunger, he will take a cab, And feebly mutter "Step on it! What s wrong? 1 long, 1 long four sausages to stab. So'drive me swiftly to a resto-ong."

Then there ensues tho annual banquet too, To mitigate the miseries of the day, Merely seven courses with a toast, or two, (Or' six or &even—too-rooral-ooral-oo). And so to bed. his Spartan meal achieved, A foodless night, oil gustatorial crime! And in his orisons lie asks for showers Of tucker when the gong strikes breakfast —C.J.