THE BEST OF THINGS

Evening Post, Volume CXI, Issue 120, 23 May 1931, Page 22

THE BEST OF THINGS

You know him. lio says: "All you modern - women are so busy and Napoleonic." When lie encounters tho modern child he turns pink and says it ought to have ..been whipped earlier. He says wo all lack a decent dignity. The modern tasto in dress, houses, conversation, and amusements distresses him, and he winces at tho sight of young men and women upending the lovely noble sentiments on which our grandfathers stood to reach what they wanted, writes Storm" Jameson in an English paper.

Tho world rushes on. Inconvenient old msnsions are pulled down and blocks of flais shoot up ovci'-night (perfect in every way except that no one .can afford to rent thorn). Lifts go faster and fasSei\ So. do motor-cars. Modern housos all but-clean themselves. Meals become simpler; and; simpler. Travel becomes easier. Children no longer die of their upbringing. Women have their own way, bless them. Gentility is dead.

Yet there are people who find it in their hearts .to yearn for tho dear romantic world that fell sick about 1900, and died of a fever a few years later.

It would servo them right if they stiffened into pillars ofwax.

No woman in.her senses wants to go back to the days of. basement houses— even though there wore plenty of servants to share them with the cockroaches—windows thickly curtained to exclude air and light, and armourplated clothes.

No modern woman wants to be revered as Victorian women were revered—with the incidental result that a respeetablo woman could not walk abroad without tho risk of insult, countless women died from causes directly traceable to their own ignorance, and countless more died while they were still alive of boredom, thwarted energies, and too much reverence.

It is almost always men—oi* a certain age—who., yearn and yearn for yesterday. Scratch that, wistful, moist-

WHAT THE -WORLD OWES YOU

eyed clubman with the bitter smile, and find Christopher Kobin. "Give me yesterday," he murmurs. To which tho proper answer is: "You can 'aye it for me." .

You can't live .-backwards; STou can try to —but the. effect will bo rather like a pompous old gentleman trying to walk up a down-moving staircase in the tube. Don't blame the onlookers too much if they hoot with joy. Tho more, conscious you arc 'of your superior refinement, dignity, and' Tightness of purpose, tho funnier you will look to everyone else. Besides,, you'ro not getting anywhere. ,The ' staircaso is going ono way and you another, and the staircaso wins.

There is a great deal to be said for the Victorians.

They know what they wanted. They had their own courage and they built solid houses in which to live solid lives. But it is no use pretending that they were careful where they built. The site they chose eventually blew up with us on it, and here wo are, "out in the open with everyone looking," and no time [ .to Jive beautifully, and with dignity—nor very much excuse.

There is only one way to live in 1931, and that is to live in 1931. To look it iv tho face—instead of squinting at it with a pair of grandfather's opera glasses—and. say boldly: "What have you got to give me? I'll have it.",

It has a great deal to give. Comfort —houses that break no woman's poor back; rooms thataro warm in winter and airy in summer; clothes that let the body breathe—compare the effort required to run and clean a house in 1890 with the ease of running a modern house. Think of the energy released by this alone, and seize every laboursaving device modern, invention has to offer, and say "Thank you.'' '■

Mobility—you only live'in this world once, so it is well to look at it while you-can. It is worth looking at.

Instead of lamenting lost quiet, buy yourself a car or a motor-cy'clej or ;a cheap travel tickot and see 4he world.