RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CIX, Issue 31894, 23 January 1969, Page 16

RANDOM REMINDER

PAGE FROM THE PAST

They were hard times, when our fathers were boys, and there is a distinctive echo of the past in the reminiscences of a Christchurch ' gentleman who writes to us to tell 'us of a strange conversation; his detailed recollection suggests he had a first-hand knowledge of it all. The scene, he says, is a country pub in the waybacks of the north-east of the North Island, the owner of the hotel being a Mrs O’Brien. The time: noon, in January. 1912. The temperature: 102 degrees. •

A wool waggon drawn by six horses arrives. The unshaven driver, all heat and dust, thought it would be wise and kind to spell his team of horses. And if they were having a rest, he argued, he might as well spend a few minutes slaking his considerable thirst While thus engaged, he was asked if he would care to buy a ticket in a local raffle. He took the ticket, but was out of money and said he would pay the five shillings next time he was there —in about two months.

He duly reached the place again, with his five shillings ready in his pocket. It was then the conversation turned to the raffle. . . . Driver: Who won the raffle, Mrs O’Brien? Mrs O’Brien: Faith, and I won the first prize. Wasn’t I lucky? And Dad won the second prize. Wasn’t he lucky? And my son Pat won the third prize. Now wasn't that lucky? And by the way you didn’t pay for your ticket. Driver: No, Mrs O'Brien. Wasn’t I lucky?