POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXI, Issue 106, 7 May 1931, Page 10

POSTSCRIPTS

Chronicle and Comment

BY PERCY FLAGS ALAS! Yesterday's election figures discloso that while tlio more favoured candidates ■ top]toil the poll, the less fortunate ones . were, regrettably, merely up the pole. « ■& # . SELF-HE Ll\ "Kleptomaniac" forwards this rioia, and supplies the postscript. The publicist responsible for the proposition i* Cyrus H. K. Curtis; . Says Cyrus: ■ lt! you believe in Heaven, it will do half the work —but the last half. Heaven helps those who help themselves. "Don't you believe it," writes our client. "I've helped myself, and it's hell when the cops get you." ■** . * NOT CBICKET. From "J.C." (unemployed). ' .Dear Purse (empty),— As the Frenchmen do not play; cricket, two visiting Frenchmen to London were invited to a match at Kennington Oval. When a batsman missed a ball a bystander exclaimed: ""What a sell!' ' A Frenchman inquired: "Was that a sell?" The man said: "No; that was a byo (buy)." The Frenchmen exclaimed: "All! Sell and buy. Buy and sell! Sacra yon Bouibl Traitors'." . POSTED MISSING-. . "J.H."—Good try . . . but we could not squeeze room for it. '' 8.C.H.,' '—'' EKE." ingenious a» to idea, but typographically beyond tha facilities of this column. "J.C." —One in type . , . others! Thanks all the same. "Convict 36!)."—Meritorious enough,, but advertising considerations intervene. : . "Peree Piring."—Thanks for clipping, but more topical matter is ruthlessly monopolising space. ' ' B.S.P.' '—Pathetic, warn Jt it? Eacfcrenting! Our heart bleeding for you, we give your first, stanza — . The cottage was a scratch one, The landlord old and mean. On everything within.that cot < He exercised a lien. ! "Stripling."—Rippling Kipling, laddie. Be yourself. . "Sweet William" (Karori). —Bather, malodorous, Bill. We buried it in the w.p.b. : '.M.T. Head."—You've said it—if our brusqueness be forgiven. "M.8."( Hataitai). —Can't say until we see it. If we could, we'd go fortune* telling. ■.*-■*: * .'., EEASSUEED. '. ■ It would not bo safe to trust thes9 scientists too far, even if they did not regularly contradict pn© another on. certain matters. There is that, old guess about the sun, as a central heating service, going out of business aeons hence. It has cropped up again in. the "fit" pars. We are thereby reminded of the story of an earnest lay, investigator who.asked a lecturer ta repeat how long he calculated the world, would last. On being told 22,000,000 years,..the interrogator remarked witk a' sigh'of relief: "Thank':heaven! I thought you said only 2,000,000." HIS WORSHIP. In this day's morning tea disquisition Mistress M'Claney soars from Alma. Lane to the Pearly .Gates. .We are permitted to add, to satisfy hundreds of pressing inquiries, that the M'Claney; bungalow is tho one with the senila fuchsia near the gate, immediately opposite the mansion (Spanish . stylo)' where the lights are on all night—to give the milkman a clear run in. Considerate, isn't it? And so— Yoo hoo, ole dear! This is your chair. 'Ow do you like our bran noo Mare? I backed 'mi solid, on the tote — What is to say, 'c 'ad my vote. Noo brooms sweep clean. 'Ell raise a dust . To start with, but I 'opes 'n' trust That Alma Lane will get its share 1 When paviu' stones is in. the air. Troup gave he'es Kelburn friens a go— 'E lives somewhere up there, you know.. The Lane is rough on Sat'dee nights. But, dear, I 'old we 'as our rights. Our footpath's just a mess. . Bill sprained . Hees ankle larst week when it rained. Though, to be honest, dear, I think— I know!—'e'd 'ad a dropper drink. If Hislop don't attend to us About our street, I'll raise a fuss, I wish hees Worship many things, Ineludiu' work and junketings. I'll tell the world 'ell earn his sere*; If 'c does 'arf 'c scz 'c'H do. But then—who does? Who will? Wh» can'?. It's not in any uiortual man. Them polerticians are the dooce —■ They're never short of a excuse To go back on their word. But still, We've gotter grin-'n'-bear 'em till The Noo Jeruzalem is 'ere, . - * An' that won't bo this time lies' fe«§An' any'ow, this shoutin' 'ymus With scrapheens and eherubims Is not me taste. Them things caf wait ■ , Until I'its.the Pearly.Gate, An' grabs 'old of the porter's bell, An', 'car Pete say: "It's Manic! Well* well!" ': »■■■•«■ ' * .;■-.. JAVA DID IT. ; America may have introduced tW "talkies" to the world, but Java did a much bigger (or worse) thing: it. produced the first talking drama, and as far back as 1500 years before Will Hays and Carl Laommle began ta reach for their "dummy." And now for tho Wajang. It is a shadow play; in the true sense of the word. On ond side ■of the ■screen lights* are placed* and on. the other side -the audience- sits. By the introduction oil weird leather figures between the lights and tho screen shadowy forms aro produced, shadowgraph fashion. Although, not strictly realistic in shape, the fornw are highly suggest ivo, and allow full play to tho imagination. Tho figures appear to live,.move, and have being— sing, talk, and danee —all being manipulated by one person known as tuu Dalang, generally anh.Qrcdi.tary office, who also supplies the dialogue^ a species of blank verse. He is generally artistic in his work, and the general effect is pleasing and impressive* The Dalang ntusfc adhere to the text, but in controlling the figures he is allowed freedom of fancy. The orchestra known as the gamelan consists of various curious instruments, wood, string, and reeds predominating, with, the inevitable tom-toms in. the background. Several noted European musicians have in recent years studied these strange musical devices. Accompanied by tho orchestra the play opens with a chanted prayer ensouling the shadows, which come to life under the magic hands of the Dalang. Divided into four acts, the drama is a mystic representation of the struggles aud triumphs of Arjuna, a great teacher and warrioiy whom every educated Javan- ' ese adopts as an ideal of -character aaH a model of life.